BB Webb as BB Webb!

Exploring the Possibilities

An adventure beckons… May 27, 2010

I’m off on an adventure for the next little while.

I hopped (I did, a hop…in red high heels), into my Blue speed racer car around 5:30 this evening and headed north….after a looooong week of the normal ups, downs and arounds.

I felt as though I’d emerged from a tightly knit cocoon!

The wheels of industry have been turned, turned, turned with many good things put directly into action. Bold strokes for sure, some grand leaps, a chugalug or two.

And now, some new experiences call….and I will return once I’ve successfully moved through an interesting new turning point.

And I predict, you heard it here, I predict all manner of grand things upon my return, business growth, travel, romance, the creation of new and OH so lovely things, surprise and fulfillment beyond compare.

Why not? I am (as are you), a creator.

I say it’s so.

Til soon, for sure, til soon!

BB Webb

 

The Road Less…Stingy April 22, 2010

I’m pondering abundance this evening. My own, or lack of it…it thought, forgiveness, awareness, understanding, passion, stamina, love.

Again, energy. This thought around what we attract, where we focus our attention is fascinating me. I’m experimenting, both with my habitual tendencies and a practice in doing things differently. I relish the ‘differently’ most of all these days!

Oh the pull of patterns is strong, but I venture to say my will, when I am clear, is stronger. In those moments anything is possible.

My goal….as always, to wake up a bit more, find a measure of peace, live within a feeling of heart and passion……but never mind all that.

If we are all indeed connected, (I say that and in bits and spurts really GET it and in others am entirely confounded), if we are indeed all connected, I might consider how everyone in my life is in someway a reflection of me and I to them. Think on that a moment should you dare.

And with that, my heart grows full and I realize that everything is just as it should be….always.

From The Red Shoes, (1948)

When Moira Shearer’s character was asked by Anton Walbrook’s character, ‘Why do you want to dance?’

Her response was, ‘Why do you want to live?’

That probably says it all.

Less stingy is therefore, full. Full of all there is to be full of!

Abundance. Passion. Curiosity. Perhaps ornary-ness at times. No need to judge. It’s just all part of the grand dance.

A bun dance!

Shall we dance?

BB Webb

 

Simple perhaps……though… October 29, 2009

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Sufi Dancers

We don’t know what we don’t know….until we know it.

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And at that point, where the sky hits the sea, or the idea becomes form or the mosquito hits the glass, we are but awash in the ever unfolding process of becoming.

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And on and on and on it goes.

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Might we be on occasion privy to the loveliness (really) of the dance.

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BB Webb

 

Navigating anew September 3, 2009

Blue Atlas Cedar

Blue Atlas Cedar

I was leaving work this evening around 7pm, the beginning of autumn promising crisp, starry nights, (a harbinger friend of fall told me so), sweaters and robust red wine drunk on my porch with a fire blazing, a must at my home. (One of my favorite things to do with people I care about).

So yes, there I was walking out from a day, a week, a month, oh, really a year of so much. The tipping point has indeed come and suddenly I am noticing that just as my GPS failed to work this week, (for once I got the extended warranty and it paid off), but that I have needed to ‘navigate anew’, as the old pathways don’t work anymore. Of course it broke!! You can’t follow the same maps when you are going somewhere new! Any road warrior knows that….and I’m certainly a traveler in life this particular ‘go ’round’.

Similarly, as I shared in an earlier post, I dropped my old PC on my wooden stairs, and though she seemed to crumble into a hundred small pieces, she was not gone altogether and limped along til I got my new Apple Pro. Yet such irony.

My old operating system was petering out, my GPS failed….truly signs and symbols to what is occurring on a grander scale. When I am awake I see these things….and I endeavor to be just that. My evening slumber only fuels me to work another day to stay awake.

So, this week the compass turned a notch more and I could feel my sails billow with excitement, much as I do when I feel the crisp hint of fall or the clean clarity of a new direction, with the right energy wrapping its arms around me like a fuzzy sweater. You can feel it, it’s a ‘vibe’ thing. And the new vibes are rolling in like eager waves to the shore.

And as I walked from my lovely Carl House to the car, through the vibrant, twilight gardens, there he was, my tall and handsome Blue Atlas Cedar. He’s been with me all these years, steadfast and true unlike any lover I’ve known. He’s a friend of the truest kind. He is there as I come and go, reliable, a witness, a champion, there for me to rest beneath or just admire. Steadfast. Strong. He wears no mask, plays no games, he is just there. Not judging, just present. There. Regardless my mood, whether I notice him, in all kinds of weather. I feel his warmth, acceptance, love really.

I find this comforting as I navigate anew. If I could wrap my arms entirely around my Blue Atlas Cedar, I would, in thanks and with deep gratitude. Instead it’ll be my intent and he’ll know. We’re just that close.

It’s the little things that make the grandiose possible, my big dreams made up of these small ahas, turns in the road and the recognition of things I just hadn’t seen. It’s funny how one day, there they are. Lovely really.

BB Webb

 

Let it Be Sed September 1, 2009

Let it Be Sed
(To children and best friends)tough little girl

She was the sort who couldn’t sit.
She’d try,
But she couldn’t sit.

Her name was wrong.
Her parents named her Sedriana.
Sedriana Sabastiano.
Her friends called her Sed.
Others called her SS,
Some just hisssssed when they saw her go by.

But Sed couldn’t sit,
She sauntered,
She stood,
She sprinted,
She sunk,
She often swallowed hard,
She tried to sing.

Sedriana Sabastiano was on a search.
Her mother thought it was for a star,
Her Dad couldn’t figure what she was looking for,
She moved too much for him,
He got dizzy and would have to sit down when Sed was around.

Once he said to Sed, “Slow down Sed, quiet down, go to bed!”
But Sed had little time for sleep or sitting or snoozing or even sipping
the tea that her mother brought for her,
Or later that her boyfriend brought for her,
Or later that her husband brought for her,
Or later which she sometimes remembered to make for herself.

Sed was always said to be searching.
“Look,” said a neighbor once concerning Sed,
“She swims, sips, slurps, skates and sneezes always as thought she is looking, peeking, seeking and searching for something spectacular, what could it be?”

Sed was always said to be free, Intense, frantic,… sometimes frightening,
often frightened, but free.

One day when Sed was no longer a child, her friend Sally paid
her a friendship visit.
Sally was a sweet, silent, contented sort.
Sally worked from 9-5, had clean cupboards and never seemed to mind.
She served on all the local committees, raised her children bright and strong,
She and Sed were said to be the bestest of friends.

One day Sally was on her way to visit Sed, walked through the door
And Sed was on her head!
“Sed,” Sally said, “Why are you on your head?”
Sed came down,…one never talks while on her head.
Sed merely sighed and said,
“Sally,…Sally, I’m looking for a thread!”

Sally nodded and understood, put down the cookies she’d brought for Sed
and grinned and smiled with a nod of her head.
Sally understood for she loved Sed.
Sed packed her bags as Sally sat nearby and read.

Years later after having traveled far,Train
To Paris, Caracus, Toledo, Zanzibar,
Sed was on a train, munching a fig,
She wore a hat that she knew was too big.
Suddenly as the brakes on the train squealed to a stop, Sed slid
Forward and in her head went a pop.

She stood up, startled, shook her head once or twice,
And as if possessed, laughed and wept til the day turned to night.

The moon came out full and Sed sat alone,
Bouncing on the train realizing she was home.
No matter where she roamed she was home,…inside herself.
She hugged herself, her wrinkled brow softened,
Her search was alive, but her heart somehow blossomed, with a
murmur that can listen as well as be heard,
Sed found her star and bounced quietly along.

The train ran its route,
The moon flared its glow,
Sed was found quietly sitting,
As the train’s whistle did blow.

By BB Webb

 

Words and their impact… August 26, 2009

Filed under: Business,Dancing,Possibility and Intention,Reflection — BB Webb @ 11:35 pm

I’m curious about words and the power they hold.  Consider how words come and go in popularity, fashion.  I remember years ago my brother suddenly adopting, ‘later’, as his good-bye to me, my brother or mom.  ‘Later, man’, actually.  One day it was ‘see ya’, the next day ‘later, man’, really without warning.

I was not too long ago informed that in today’s vernacular, (among young folks in particular), to ‘hook up’ means to have sex with someone where as to ‘connect’ is to get together.  When I hear unaware colleagues, (more around my age), share how they’d like to ‘hook up’ with me over coffee to discuss one business issue or another, I can feel my forehead wrinkle with qunadary. ‘At Starbucks….really….I didn’t know you FELT that way.’ They are merely unknowing. A tall, frothy, mocha latte with carmel drippings coupled with public sex, (as lovely as that might be), is really not my thing. Certainly not at Starbucks!

Words come and go and are always infused with one meaning or another.  I find it all curious.

So, I am pondering the word discipline and what its impact is on me.  I yearn for more discipline in much of what I say I want and how I go about achieving one goal or another, though I don’t like following rules. So…when I feel my own self proclaimed intentions are caught up against a feeling of discipline defined as…

an instrument of punishment, esp. a whip or scourge, used in the practice of self-mortification or as an instrument of chastisement in certain religious communities.

…whoooooa Nelly, damn if I don’t somehow sabotage myself.

I then look at what I want and wonder why I’m the only one in the way of my GETTING it.

Then I consider THIS outlook to bolster my journey toward my said desire…

activity, exercise, or a regimen that develops or improves a skill; training: A daily stint at the typewriter is excellent discipline for a writer.

Okay…..I’m encouraged here, bolstered forward, excited as I can feel the win, I get it….though back comes…

behavior in accord with rules of conduct; behavior and order maintained by training and control: good discipline in an army. Training to act in accordance with rules; drill: military discipline.

…and damn if I don’t break out in a cold sweat, am ready to bolt and a ‘pissed off’ gene seems to recklessly take control. I must have had a most distasteful army incident in a previous lifetime!

My mentors need be sneaky and masterful in keeping me directed toward my own potential. Though I am learning to be my own best advocate and cheerleader; patterns and who I am can certainly create challenges. Again I am reminded that I must make things what they ARE so I might change them.

So, my work is evident AND self awareness rules. My need to become conscious of why I do or don’t do what I say I want is key.

And as a side result, as I become compassionate toward my own frailties, I might become more compassionate toward others. Maybe.

Humanity. A pickelish state indeed!

So tonight I’m sitting with this thought of discipline and how maybe I need a new word to walk me down the path toward my most EXCITING dreams.

BB Webb

 

Vampire Envy…(a bitty, itty change)…. August 24, 2009

Filed under: Dancing,Friends,Music — BB Webb @ 8:22 pm

Bite me!

Bite me!


UPDATE: STAY TUNED, STAY TUNED…VAMPIRE NAUGHTINESS WILL HAPPEN IN FEBRUARY….AND OOOOOOHHHHH……WE PLANNERS ARE CREATING A STIR, AN EVENT, A HAPPENING INDEED…..STAY TUNED!!

Immortal Life….on earth….not sure that’d be my bag….but a luscious bite on the neck from a hot vampire?…well, suuuurreeee! Just let me die when it’s my time. There is only so much earth fun a body can stand!

BIG news…..we’re holding our first VAMPIRE BALL at Carl House on Halloween eveDATE TO BE DETERMINED THOUGH SOMETIME AROUND CUPID’S DAY IN FEBRUARY!! Ooooooh, more fun than I might share at this juncture, but trust me, I have a team of creative minds planning all manner of naughty, playful, exciting, daring, exhilarating, creative fun with shuttle service to and from Atlanta and Athens for anyone wanting to hoist down a cocktail or two. (Provided by none other than extraordinary, ‘shuttle em in style’ crew of Cooper Atlanta Transportation).

More news upcoming….but gather your dancing shoes and best Vampire garb as there WILL be prizes and OH so much more.

You’re been forewarned!! Spread the good and scary word!

BB Webb

 

New Addresses Abound… August 19, 2009

I’ve moved a lot throughout my life. I’ve liked it that way. I’ll move again I am sure. Though, my bungaloo with the high ceilings tucked away in the forest with 3 ferocious dogs and 3 killer cats, suits me fine just now….trekking into civilization works for the moment. My car takes me all kinds of places. There are not many amenities where I live, ‘cept some great fields for walking and trees to sit beneath. It’s a lovely getaway…an incubator of sorts.

So my addresses change.

I have a new Arriving with BB Webb address….FYI…..(if you read below, the old one was confiscated by adolescent pirates, the most ferocious sort). The new address is http://www.arrivingwithbbwebb.com This site will herald in new work, new projects, speaking, writing, tv stuff….so please, stay tuned, or sign up for my newsletter for a periodic update.

And, I’ve taken to the occasional twitter….so please feel free to ‘twit’ me. My address is http://www.twitter.com/bb_webb

So….addresses change, locations come and go, but I, well, I am always here. And that’s comforting to me. If I feel lost I merely look down and there I am. Every time. It’s nice to be able to depend on some things. I am, when all is said and done, reliable to myself.

I like that.

And I am glad YOU are out there.

And while I have you here, I’m collecting new music, and perhaps you have some to recommend to me….music ripe for the soul, music to run to, music to sing to, music to dance to….I’ll take it all.

And hey….thank you in advance.

And because you care enough to show up, I have a song for YOU! (I’m on a Weepies kick). Here’s to all the REALLY good things!

BB Webb

 

Oh Sinnerman….

A favorite song, a favorite scene, a favorite theme….

Slight of hand…perspective….Magritte….life….Nina Simon…

Intriguing…

Where ya gonna run to….?????

BB Webb

 

A Room of One’s Own August 16, 2009

Virginia Wolfe was in touch with what she needed. She also contended that EVERY woman needs her OWN money and her OWN room. I agree. Or at least I know that I do. I’ll get back to this point if you’ll stay with me.

My friend Katja joined me for a long walk and dinner at my house tonight. (Just back from Napa with her husband, she brought the most yummy Rutherford Ranch Cabernet Savignon, 2007. I highly recommend this to folks who savor a robust and tantalizing red. Great with salmon, but I think everything is great with salmon and well, everything is great with a robust red…fish, fowl, the right brand of cereal or dark chocolate). I digress….

We came back after our walk and went directly to my kitchen ready for our anticipated glass of red lusciousness. Katja had read about the sad fate of my goldfish, Saskia from a former blog entry, ‘My Fish Died Today‘ (scroll down the page if you’ve not read the woeful saga). Katja had named my other goldfish Fritz, (my remaining one), after her motherland several months previous.

A note about my pal Katja. I adore and respect this woman immensely, and she’s fun, (a prerequisite for all my pals). She is a journalist, international media consultant and German tv celeb of sorts, (Katja Ridderbusch), (a regular on the German equivalent of ‘Meet the Press’), skill sets in international relations which intrigue and inspire me. She made a switch, followed her heart and is building a formidable career basing herself from Atlanta. She’s a special, (in the way that I boast about several of my few friends), most talented and unique woman. And she adores me which makes me shine from the inside out. It’s totally mutual.

Back to fishiness…..when we returned to my home, (smelling of freshly sauteed almonds for our greenbeans), Katja noticed my fish tank with just one goldfish and remembered the sad story of about a month ago. (However, I can now relay with some hubris, a fresh and clean tank, with lots of bubbles and no murky algae, not at all the scene from my not so distant travesty). Looking at her expression as she gazed upon my tank, I was reminded that Katja and I are both emotional sorts, we can get gooey over the smallest thing.

Katja: ‘Awww BB, poor Saskia.’

‘I know,’ I responded, ‘it was sad that she didn’t make it. But Fritz, he seems to be thriving, he’s shinier, he’s pumped up a bit.’

Katja could not take her eyes off the tank. ‘He really seems happy BB, and look, he’s smiling at me.’

A side note here…women can sense these things, honestly, I think I shared in my former post that my Saskia and Fritz would jump up in the tank when I entered each morning at feeding time. They did.

Katja moved closer to the tank, her German brow knit with deep complexity.

Women see things in their own unique way!

Women see things in their own unique way!

‘BB, Fritz is not a boy. Fritz is a girl. This is a female fish and it’s not Saskia…she had different markings.’

‘Well yes, I know she did, but how do you know Fritzy is not a boy.’

‘Look there,’ Katja pointed to the rear end of my gold and smiling fish.

‘Really!’ I retorted. ‘You’re kidding, I had no idea. I wonder why we hadn’t seen that before.’

‘It doesn’t show as much when they are young.’

‘So, you’re saying that Fritz….Fritzina is a mature young woman fish…female?’

‘It seems so,’ Katja responded in her adorable German accent.

I have to step back a moment, here we are, Katja and myself, two respected women in our various careers, professional, credible, speaking with 100% seriousness about the sex of my goldfish, with sadness in our voices about having lost a female named Saskia and delighted that the newly christened female, once named Fritz, now Fritzina, was looking effervescent and robust since the passing of her tank-mate Saskia. How funny and delightful really, in a most absurd kind of way. It is afterall the ‘little’ things that make such a difference in life.

‘Well BB,’ surmised my pal, ‘I think she is flourishing on her own, really, look at the golden glow she has.’

‘Well, I must say you are right, she’s grown, she seems to have a special swag when she turns and you’re right, I think she IS SMILING. Maybe it’s the bubbles I added to the tank after the last sad day of Saskia’s swimming career.’

‘Well, she does look robust, indeed. And really, it’s as though she now has highlights, she’s positively glowing.’

It was at that point that we moved to my chestnut wooden dining table for some olives and cheese to go with our Napa wine.

Katja looked just like she did when I saw her on her German tv show, serious, introspective, and totally credible.

‘BB, I think having her own space has made all the difference. A girl fish needs a tank of her own. She really is flourishing.’

I too was deep in contemplation, the wine going only a little bit to my head. ‘Yes, it’s as though she’s coming into her own, into her power. You know Katja, I think she’s even jumping a bit higher each morning than when she shared the tank with Saskia. I really do.’

Katja nodded her head vigorously. ‘Could be, could be. Yes, she’s positively glowing BB. I think the bubbles help and certainly how you’ve rearranged the plastic bushes and cleaned the place up, but yes, I think she’s coming into her own. Definitely.’

‘Can I pour you some more wine my friend.’

‘Surely’ responded Katja.

And so it is, we determined that a woman thrives when she has a room, (or tank) of her own.

BB Webb