About Me

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A writer by predilection, an aunt by blessing and a friend by choice, Shelley has spent many years journaling before sitting down to draft her first novel. She has a B.A. in English discourse and is currently working on her third romantic-suspense, the title of which will be announced soon pending publication. Shelley is a member of the Romance Writers of America as well as her RWA state chapter of the Maryland Romance Writers.
"I love story-telling. It's a way to live an experience through the eyes of a character." - Shelley N. Greene

Sunday, November 15, 2015


This week I was on vacation, the last of the year. The break was welcome as I’d been experiencing a time of change, and it’s good to slow down during those periods. It helps to have the world stop while you’re internally turning on your own axis. The week was productive: I cleaned my car, cut my hair, and walked each day.

I also had the great pleasure of seeing family who came to visit, their first time to the D.C. area. As we toured the National Mall and museums, I got my quota of exercise in, and the trip gave me a renewed appreciation for all the history and education available in my geographic backyard.

My family and I explored. I expected the museums to be the typical school bus tutorial, but what I saw opened my eyes.

It started with the basic stuff.

 Quotes from NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM were thrown around.

          My cousin had thought she’d read about an Okapi in a book a long time ago, and was thrilled to see that they do exist, and not a figment of her imagination.

          What spoke to me was an exhibit on early man. One would think that our beast-like ancestors were basic in their natures. I think of the parallel to the Id of the modern psyche, that base needs would trump benevolence, and that the first version of human was crude in it's development. I was surprised when I stopped by a display that showed the remains of a Neanderthal. The skeleton was aged by the wear on the bones and teeth, showing it to be the body of an elder. Given the time and climate, survival did not favor the mature. The older you got, the less able you were to hunt or protect yourself. The shroud and placement of the body showed that he was positioned carefully, a nascent display of respect.

          The senior had been cared for in his old age and buried. All signs of community, adoration, and love.

          Proof that humans had a sense of connection to one another from the beginning.

          The concept lingered in my mind as my family and I trekked to the Museum of American History. As we walked along, we passed a family ambling down the sidewalk. I noticed their little girl, no more than two-years-old, who was new to walking. The toddler had a knit hat on, the thing pulled down and covering her eyes. Despite not being able to see, the young one took hurried steps forward, sightless but leaping forward with excitement.

I watched in owe as she showed no fear of falling down or misdirection, her parents standing close to monitor her. All the little girl had to do was reach out a hand, and guidance was available to her.

The two scenes made me think about trust and challenge.

I’ve read books that talk of a person’s spirit. When you are young, your personality is at it's strongest. You engage the big world just as you are—without fear of the bad, and devoid of the impact of other people’s opinions. It's time and experience that whittles away at our natural temperaments and forms our insecurities.

My Mom once told me a story about when I was the same age as the little girl, the boy who used to mow our grass had paid me a compliment. He’d said that "Like a cartoon character," I was “full of joy.”

At this time in my life I can’t imagine myself as ever being that way. Unencumbered. Jubilant. Free. 

           Not because I don't want to be, but because the consciousness of responsibility is there - as an adult you must be mindful of other people. And life is a process of learning, some of the lessons harder than others. 

Sometimes a piece of your personality is tested. A facet of you is muted where the rest of you takes on the extra weight, and is given a chance to build muscle. 

It’s proven that when one of your faculties is taken away, the other senses become more sensitive. If you can’t see, your hearing becomes more acute, etc. 

Right now it feels as if an emotional hat has been pulled over my eyes, and instead of playing with the disablement, instead of finding stimulus with the change, I’m feeling disorientation and alarm. I wish I could have fun with the lesson, but all I'm channeling is fear.

The secret of dealing with any impediment is to lean on your strengths and to trust those there to help you on your journey. My strengths have always been a ability to adapt and heal. And I’m tenacious.

Japanese Proverb: “Fall seven times and stand up eight.”

If I get something wrong, I’ll keep trying until I solve the problem. However some issues take many, many, many, many tries to get right.

And trust has never been my strong suit.

I've been staring down that demon a lot. In this current round, I find myself blind-folded and freaked out.

But the elder and the little girl illustrated something to me:

Life is Good and I have support.

          I post a “Smile of the Day” each day on my Twitter page. It’s my way of observing life's little joys. It proves to me daily that even though the world seems so big and intimidating, it's simple and altruistic at its core.

          Independent as I am, I don’t like asking for help, but every time I’ve reluctantly reached out a blind hand, the palm of a family member or a friend has been there, ready to hold mine.

          It's difficult for me to let someone else lead, to let go and trust. If I try, I may even be able to make it a game. I mean, why not play when you can, right? 

          Why not find joy in the challenge like the little girl?

Like the elder, you are someone’s parent, someone’s sibling, someone’s child, someone's comrade, someone's friend.

You are loved.

If you are blind and need a hand, reach out—one will be there for you. That is something I’m learning to do.

It’s called trust, and it’s a beautiful thing.

- SNG 

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