Good Morning America, How are ya,

So I will be posting the next two poems for my 31 in 31 later, but for now I am just going to try and post a blog about my ride on this magic carpet made of steel.
The most important thing I have learned is to love America’s Native Son even more than I did before the trip. Best movie I’ve ever streamed has passed by this windows. All my views have justified my lifetime love of trains, 

The food is tasty, most people swear by the Train French Toast, it was good, but Iam stuck on their continental breakfast with oatmeal and berries for breakfast, a  square croissant for midmorning coffee and later a yogurt snack. All three of my Hobbit breakfasts (1st, 2nd and elevensees for under 10$ when I am in Coach and delivered free in 1st class (except the tip). Dinners are presented as pretty as the food is delicious. My favorites are the tender and perfectly seasoned Southwest Chicken Breast and their vegetarian plate.

As to my beverages on the train, just say choices are many and their best quality, including coffee (sigh) is, well, they are ample.

 Train travelis comfortable! The reclining coach seats are wide enough for my fluffy butt and I sleep pretty well there, the bed in the sleeper car is like being rocked gently in Momma Earths arms. 

Overall the service has been excellent, and fellow passengers, both local and international,  are friendly and kind.

Crowfae says when its all about the destination, fly; but once or twice in your life, slow down and make it about the journey  and take the train.

When You Wish Upon a Star, Makes no difference who you are…

…she realized she had spent too little time recently in daydreaming or wishing with her heart.

Her dreams now, even at night, were absent or were filled with running, running away from the wolves, running to find the solution, running from a hurricane only to be pulled under by flood waters or sometimes she would stop and turn because she wanted help and saw a friend, so she would stop running, and turn and then she just get shot in the chest.

It was always one of the same two friends firing the bullet.

The other dream she had repeatedly was being given a precious little toddler to care for, and then having her attention drawn away by a thousand other tiny tasks, or her Prince’s kiss or even a Remarkable Shiny Thing. The distractions were varied and multiple but they always led to the same result. The baby would cry, and she would come back, and the baby was somehow tinier and weaker, and there was no food. In the dreams she would then just breastfeed the starving baby, until her mind would break in and remind her this was impossible; cancer took her real breasts years ago, she had no milk to give.

She knew the baby was her “better self,” the one who bravely completed things she wasn’t good at like triathlons. The baby was the part of her that never made promises it couldn’t keep, paid its own bills, focused on helping others, found the good in every situation; knew it wasn’t important who was to blame or who was right but but important to assess the actual situation and find a solution. Grandma knew that the baby was her SOFT Hero and her hero needed nurturing.

The rest of that dream would then become running here and there trying but never finding milk for the baby, because something was always wrong.

Looking at her “20 Wishes Book,”*** Grandma realized what was wrong.

She had a really big problem.

Her problem wasn’t the lack of income, although finances had not been this bad since she had children at home.

Her problem wasn’t her health, although her mind, body and heart had all been dealt significant and almost mortal blows this calendar year.

Her problem was not the world, not her friends, not her enemies and definitely not her situation.

Her problem was simply her fears; fear and some poor choices surrounding that fear, and not having the foggiest idea where she was going.

The grandma knew her dreams were telling her that her heart absolutely DID NOT like a lot of things about where she was in life and she needed to find the right direction, but in dreams just as in life, to get the right directions you have to have a destination.

So the portly little Grandma put her mobile phone down, shut off the television and computer and poured herself a nice cup of tea. She closed her eyes and followed Ilyana VanZants guided meditation for “A Perfect Day”, then began to page through her book to see which wishes she had fulfilled, which needed some more visuals (She loved to cut and past collages from magazine pictures since childhood and found it a really fun way to recycle magazines and figure out what she was actually drawn to in life, not just how others thought her life should look) and which wish would be her next great adventure.

After all, when you wish upon a star it might not matter who you are, but it does matter what you wish!

***I made my first 20 Wishes Book a few years ago, the idea is from Debbie Macomber. If like me you are struggling with depression and/or chronic health issues (I have both) I highly recommend reading her little romance of that title. If nonfiction is more your style find a self-help book on vision boards.