Dame Helen Mirren who turned 70 this week.

Hi, My Lovelies!
Here is my latest Huffington Post essay on rocking the years after your fifth decade, AND, there’s a cool, humiliating, humanizing, little life lesson attached.

I know there are a few over the fifties in this group and you guys will appreciate this post. So you get your glasses while I find mine…

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/janet-bertolus/turning-50_b_8282198.html

Anyway, the lesson is this: I gave this to the HuffPo over three weeks ago. Cue the crickets…

I was well aware that the divorce pieces had gotten some legs, but come on! There’s more to my story than that—WAY more! Yet the divorce pieces continued to run and my thought process went like this:

“Why didn’t they run the Over Fifty piece, it’s been a week?”

“Clearly they hated it and are rethinking their decision to make me a blogger. Shit. I’ll just lay low…”

“It’s been two weeks, I can’t continue to just lay low, maybe they never received it. Should I risk seeming desperate and re-send it?” (I sent something else instead, an essay on unsolicited advice, you know, just to check the system for bugs—no bugs detected, the piece ran the next day).

Instead of making me feel better I was now convinced they HATED the Over Fifty piece.
In my imagination, they all laughed over lunch about how stupid it was, “Can you believe that Janet Bertolus! She doesn’t know shit about being over fifty! Or writing for that matter!” Bahahahaha! (diabolical editor laughter).
Fuck.

By week three I decided that for the sake of my mental health and to maintain any shred of confidence (that was hiding somewhere in the vicinity of my big toe) —I had to just forget about it and go on with my life.
That was last week.

Yesterday they sent me the email that they were running the Over Fifty piece.
Well, that’s…unexpected…

When I pulled up the link I gasped (and you will too). There, at the end of the essay, is one beautiful photograph after another of spectacular women over fifty! What a great surprise!

Sometimes I can be such an ass.

They’ve obviously been busy the last three weeks compiling pictures to run in this section—and here I thought was all about me.

Lesson #1789–Trust the process. At a certain point, it has nothing AT ALL to do with you. I think this applies to every situation in life!

Carry on,
xox

Because it’s Sunday.

Carry on,
xox

Have you ever hugged a porcupine? Yeah me neither.
Although lately I could swear that I walk away from some hugs covered in quills.

I’ve developed the good sense to steer clear of the obvious porcupine people—the toxic, difficult, hard to love ones.

I don’t even own the suit of armor it took to get close to them anymore.
I think I sold it years ago at a garage sale.

Anyhow, lately I’ve suffered some pretty prickly encounters with previously un-prickly people.

Which surprised me. Then it didn’t. Because I had an Ah-ha.
Let’s hear it for those Ah-ha moments!

The other day while I was pulling embedded quills from my forcepts (ouch) I had time to think, and it occurred to me that certain people (The obvious porcupine people) wear their quills facing out, mostly as a defense, and after a while—people tend to leave them alone.

While others wear their quills on the inside—hurting only themselves in the process.

I saw a video recently of a snake that swallowed a porcupine whole. It was gross but kinda cool. Anyway, the poor mis-guided snake who never received the DO NOT EAT PORCUPINE memo died soon afterwards, the quills rupturing all of it’s internal organs.

Eventually, I suppose we all figure this out—because the pain gets too great …and we’re smarter than a snake.

We take our quills and turn them inside-out just before we discard them for good—as an act of self-loving transformation—in order to save our own lives. It leaves us raw and vulnerable, and some innocent (or not so innocent) people may be stuck by our pointedness in the process.

Note to self: Hug at your own risk. Oh, and use oven mitts.

I know for me, during times of intense introspection and change, as my quills work their way from the inside-out, I get pretty prickly, and if I’ve left a quill or five in your arms during a hug—I’m sorry (Raphael).

It’s all about empathy and compassion you guys. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go watch a video of a porcupine eating a pumpkin.

Carry on,
xox

I just was left a message on my phone from my darling niece.
She is currently deep into her post-graduate studies in New York, and since I live in LA it’s been months since we’ve seen each other.
I miss her.

Now, if you had asked me if she ever gave me a moment’s thought, I’d have said: Hell no!
But I was wrong. And I don’t mind being wrong…in this instance.

Let me just describe this virtual hug, because it was delicious.
It was so delicious that I’m going to use all of its ingredients to craft my own and I’m going to surprise hug someone. That’s how nice it was!
You should do it too.

Timing: IMPORTANT. Not before 7am and not after 10pm. Those calls are fraught with anxiety and just plain annoying.
You always think: Uh oh, aunt Barbara died. Mid morning is good.

One large scoop of warmth: Make sure this is pure organic warmth, not that imitation stuff.

Tone of voice: Very important—not rushed, not like you’re jumping out of a cab or racing to a hair appointment. Slow and steady. Chill.

Just a dash of well-chosen words, don’t ramble. Rambling just confuses people.
Remember, this is a virtual hug. Can’t be too short (insincere) or too long (awkward).

Mix all these ingredients gently into a phone message.
Serves—All

I think a message is preferable. Pick a time you know they can’t answer.
It wouldn’t have been AS effective if I’d picked up, but hey, a hugs a hug right?
But, the surprise of listening to it later is part of the whole virtual hug experience.

Seriously, she just said: I hope your day is going well, just sending you a big warm hug. Know that I’m thinking of you and I wished we talked more, I love you and have a beautiful Friday.

Short. Sweet. Delicious.

Let’s all do it.
I encourage you
No, I challenge you,
No, I double dog dare you.
To virtually hug somebody this weekend.

Xox

Ahhhhhh clarity…my elusive friend.

Trial and error. Success and failure. Happiness and despair. They all bring clarity.
After I thought about that for awhile I made a list:

I got disappointed into clarity
I got frustrated into clarity
I got angered into clarity
I fumbled my way into clarity

I ran toward clarity
I commando crawled toward clarity
I skipped joyfully into clarity
I’ve been dragged into clarity

I found my footing on my way into clarity
I danced my way into clarity
I stumbled my way into clarity
I lost my footing on my way into clarity
I fell headfirst into clarity

I prayed myself into clarity
I chanted my way into clarity
I meditated my way into clarity
I hiked my way into clarity
I exercised myself into clarity

I lost friends on my way into clarity
I made new friends on my way into clarity
I lost jobs on my way into clarity
I got hopelessly lost on my way into clarity

I cried my way into clarity
I shouted and screamed my way into clarity
I slept my way into clarity
I got scared into clarity
I lost money on my way into clarity

I resisted my way into clarity
I argued my way into clarity
I changed my mind to find clarity
I took advice to gain clarity
I shunned advice on my way into clarity

I read books to find clarity
I listened to talks, music and Oprah to find clarity.
I reinvented to find clarity
I talked my way into clarity
I found out who I really was to gain clarity

I had luck on my side on my way into clarity
I hustled, whined and begged in order to gain clarity
I had magic with me to show me clarity
I laughed my way into clarity

I made mistakes on my way into clarity
I fucked up big time on my way into clarity
I may have gotten fucked on my way into clarity
I got better glasses in order to find clarity

I gained insights on my way into clarity
I was loud on my way to clarity
I was silent on my way to clarity
I realized I didn’t know shit on my way into clarity

I’ve had great, inspired ideas on my way into clarity
I’ve had sucky, horrible ideas on my way into clarity
I’ve been funny on my way into clarity
I’ve been completely humor-free on my way to clarity

I’ve been exhilarated on my way into clarity
I’ve done the “dead man walking” Zombie limp into clarity
I created my way into clarity
I destroyed my way into clarity

I got annoyed into clarity
I joined the crowd on my way into clarity
I bucked the status quo into clarity
I became still enough to find clarity

I loved my way into clarity
I followed the signs into clarity
I ignored the signs on my way into clarity

Then I lost it…
And every single time—I started over.

Carry on,
xox

Cartoon by: http://www.justzhm.blogspot.com

It seems everybody’s afraid these days.
Whether it’s Isis, the elections, or what will happen to your waistline if you eat that last piece of cake.

So…what to do?

Live a life consumed by fear? Hell No and no thanks!
What a hollow shell of an existence THAT would be!

We have to fight the temptation to give our lives over to this thing that is just an emotion.
Would you let lust run your life? Okay, bad example. How about anger? Really?
Come on you guys, who is calling the shots in your life? Who is in the driver’s seat?

Here are two interesting perspectives that I came across in the last few days, I like them both.
The first one is by author and entrepreneur extraordinaire Seth Godin, called The Power of Fear:

The Power of Fear

Fear will push you to avert your eyes.

Fear will make you think you have nothing to say.

It will create a buzz that makes it impossible to meditate…

or it will create a fog that makes it so you can do nothing but meditate.

Fear seduces us into losing our temper.

and fear belittles us into accepting unfairness.

Fear doesn’t like strangers, people who don’t look or act like us, and most of all, the unknown.

It causes us to carelessly make typos, or obsessively look for them.

Fear pushes us to fit in, so we won’t be noticed, but it also pushes us to rebel and to not be trustworthy, so we won’t be on the hook to produce.

It is subtle enough to trick us into thinking it isn’t pulling the strings, that it doesn’t exist, that it’s not the cause of, “I don’t feel like it.”

When in doubt, look for the fear.

This second perspective is by the author and speaker Elizabeth Gilbert from her new book Big Magic. Liz anthropomorphized FEAR which is something I like to do with emotions—it makes them easier to handle. You can substitute Creativity in this piece with Relationship or Career, take your pick—just make sure Fear stays in the back seat!

“THE ROAD TRIP is where I explain the conversation that I need to have with Fear, before beginning any exciting new creative project. I long ago came to accept that I can never get rid of Fear — that it follows me along wherever I go, and that it is especially provoked whenever I try to be creative. (This is because Creativity demands that we constantly enter into realms of unknown outcome, and Fear HATES realms of unknown outcome.)

So I always explain to Fear that me and Creativity are about to go on a road trip together, and that Fear is invited to come along (since it always comes along, anyway!) — but that Fear is not allowed to drive, not allowed to make decisions, not allowed to choose the songs on the radio, not allowed to select the snacks, not allowed to suggest detours. Fear is welcome in the minivan, in other words — because I do not exile any of the parts of myself along the creative journey — but Fear must sit in the back seat.”

Love you! Carry on,
xox

Waiting to give or get some unsolicited advise? You can catch my latest Huffington Post blog here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/janet-bertolus/master-of-silent-advice_b_8333632.html
I’d love it if you would like it or tweet it or leave me a comment…or some advice 😉 xox

Thank you gluttonous mosquito for turning my Saturday night into your own private all-you-can-eat buffet.

We are lucky enough in SoCal to escape summers of swarming mosquitos and bugs in general; we traded them for earthquakes, epic traffic jams and no NFL football team, so yep, I still think we’re ahead.

There is only one of you, you persistent little shit, I can tell by your distinctive, stuttering, high-pitched whine (you might want to get that checked out ), and I have no idea how you got into the house seeing that it’s been as hot as the surface of Mars these past few weeks and no door or window has been open for more than the three seconds it takes to exit or enter our seventy-five degree, humidity free sanctuary.

It was the doggie door wasn’t it? Well, you’re resourceful, I’ll give you that.

I apologize for trying to kill you, swinging wildly in the dark every time you dive-bombed my left shoulder.
I’m a pacifist at heart. Really.
I carry spiders outside for crying out loud —because spiders have the good sense to hang out up on the ceiling and they leave my left shoulder alone. Besides, spiders are fellow artists, spinning their stunning webs all over the property. What beautiful thing have you created lately, besides this humongous welt on my back?

Still, I have to thank you. You taught me patience and you made me appreciate my little family.

First the patience…okay, well, that was about as long as they lasted.

I have exactly zero tolerance for a mosquito that has no self-control and can’t realize when he’s full. You served yourself at my shoulder four times, my knee (I don’t even want to know how you got under and out of the covers)—and my pinkie. Seriously?
You, my friend, need to practice some portion control!

After hearing your deranged buzz and feeling you near my face as you flew your little scouting missions for several hours, I wanted to scream and pull out all of my hair—instead, I got up, ran to pee,(I didn’t want you to follow me, I was trying to avoid a fish in a barrel situation in the bathroom) and made sure my husband and the boxer-bitch were covered.

My husband is made from very rare and delicate French stock.
His skin is…different from my tough American horsehide—it just is.
It is void of pores and as soft as a baby’s ass and when bitten it gets as hot, angry and red as Donald Trump’s face when asked the names of foreign Heads of State.

The boxer-bitch is simply too spoiled to bite.
Super cute, but ornery as hell—I know you wouldn’t bite a teenager for the same reason, but I covered her nubby little butt anyway, and as I found my way back to bed, flailing my arms around like a crazed scarecrow, trying to find you in the dark, I was filled with love and appreciation.

I kid you not.

I was thankful I wasn’t in the Amazon with bugs so prolific I was forced to sleep in a bed under a full mosquito net—or in South Africa avoiding deadly black mamba snakes on my way to pee, (With those guys you hit the ground dead in three minutes, so I know my last thought would be: Did I pull up my pants?), I was thankful that I had a tube of Benadryl handy for the itching—and I was thankful there was only one of you. It made me feel better about my odds of hunting you down and killing you.

Thankfully, I fell asleep and we all survived the night.
Since I knew you were fat and happy, and we had formed a relationship, an uneasy truce of sorts—the next morning while it was a bracing 78 degrees at 6 am, I opened all the doors in the bedroom to facilitate your clean getaway.

Thank you and you’re welcome.

Carry on,
xox

“Creativity is domesticated madness.” – Anonymous

Right?

Whatever it is that you’re making in the world right now—you are a conduit for greatness.

I believe that from the core of my being—from my big toe.

Keep up the good work you guys! Continue chasing inspiration.
Carry on,
xox

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/janet-bertolus/a-love-letter-to-my-divorce_b_8223504.html

Hi you guys!

Many of you have asked about the interview I did Wednesday with HuffPost Live on My Love Letter To Divorce. By the way, thank you! You guys are the best! Several of you even watched it live—in the middle of the day! My husband wasn’t even able to do that! THAT is above and beyond!

If you don’t have 30 minutes to watch, (because really, who does?) Huffington Post has put a very civilized 3+ minutes at the top of the article.

Please share this with anyone who you think might benefit from it and have a great weekend!

Carry on,

xox

The whole enchilada:
http://live.huffingtonpost.com/r/segment/huffpost-divorced-by-30-blog-series-interview-/5616c59599ec6d4da7000379

“Whether or not it is clear to you, the Universe is unfolding as it should.”

This poem, the Desiderata, was popular when I was a teenager in the 1970’s. I remember hanging the poster on my closet door—between Bobby Sherman and Davey Jones of the Monkees.  At the time it made very little impact on me. I thought it was pretty, but I was busy chasing boys and singing in Glee club!

The other day I was reminded of it, so I looked it up. Shit! I had to share this with you guys! This thing feels more relevant than ever!

The Universe quote above—holy cow! I’m JUST getting that! Now—after forty plus years!

“Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.”

Silence? Peace? Oh man! I needed that yesterday!

“Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.”

Right?! So true! That 3am awefulizing that we all indulge in occasionally. FEAR.

The take away? Old posters from the walls of your teenage bedroom possess a wisdom you were completely unaware of! (Maybe I absorbed some of it through osmosis!) AND…

“Even with it’s broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world.”

“Strive to be happy.”

Love you guys!

xox