Strategy & Content Services with Sandra Lee Schubert

“People have a hard time letting go of their suffering. Out of a fear of the unknown, they prefer suffering that is familiar” ~Thich Nhat Hanh People stay in dead-end jobs, loveless marriages never leaving the boundaries of their hometowns. Why is it so hard to let go of things that no longer work? The devil you know is better than the one you don’t know. People are willing to live a mediocre life for the safety it provides. But what if you were guaranteed a positive outcome how would you live your life differently? What kind of choices would you make knowing each one would turn out OK? If you can imagine this different life then envision another life where you are still free to make choices but are unsure of the outcome. Except now you accept the consequences of your choices knowing they could be either bad or good. In this life, you feel fear but take chances anyway. Every day we make a choice. You want to lose weight but eat ice cream. You buy a new sweater knowing the money could...

We plan each day. We start with coffee, a shower, or maybe exercise. We go to work or school from Monday to Friday. Saturday is for shopping and errands. Sunday’s, we wake up late; go to brunch or a church service. Maybe you get up and create art or work nights. A routine affords us the comfort to stretch emotionally and physically without distraction. Routines fail us. Tragedy strikes. We go to work and lose our job. A serious illness strikes a relative. Or we look in the mirror and realize this is not the life we had planned on living. A Crucial Point Decisions are normal. We wear blue instead of red. We drop an umbrella in our bag at the last moment. Do you want paper or plastic? Others require more thought. What school we attend. Do we leave a marriage? Should I establish my career before having a child? Situations force us to decide. The longed-for dream house is no longer affordable. We have to decide about a loved one’s healthcare. At this crucial point in life’s journey, the ...

We talked about things, the book. I told you I could not understand what  the fuss was all about. I d i dn’t really like her writing anyway. How about the other one? The one who people think is so smart. I said she is nice and all. But I had a roommate who was getting her PhD who could not boil an egg or iron a shirt. I taught her all that. It’s not the PhD that impresses me, it is the ability to love. I said all these things, stupid things to keep talking, to keep my brain alive. I’ve got wild beasts caught in my throat you know. I have to keep talking to let them out. Ever wondered why all those old people talk all the time? Man, we must keep moving our mouths… move those beasties aside. I told you before when I go on and on about some petty thing the conversation I am having is not the conversation I am having. I am trying to get to something caught deep inside. If I told you all of it, I would have to start screaming. I would scream so loud and so long. I would throw my head ba...

I could leave this world behind. I would crash if I wanted. Spinning me out of time. Instead, I say, “You must write, girl.” Take your pencil. Scrape some lead across the paper. Lick the lead off the white. Lick between the lines. Oh, God. Tongues are so useful, sinewy, and primed for exploration. If one could prod between a verb and an adjective, lick the flavor from a word, would an orange taste the same as a word lobbed around the tongue? I don’t know. Can my tongue feel the delicate line words rest on? Does each greenish-blue line have a texture different from the stark white of the paper? Could I pluck them like a musical instrument? Or would the lines feel like the thread I run through my mouth when I prepare to thread a needle? If words were a meal. If novels were a banquet. If poetry were a dessert, both bitter and sweet. If I licked each word from the paper would they satisfy me? Or do I remain hungry? I want to lick the posters on the subway. Taste the salt of a thousand hand...