Resisting Conversation

 

It’s far too early to report on my new Q. and A. format in my journal. Just haven’t been at it long enough. One week of it isn’t enough to tell if it’s worth continuing, but I do have a hint that it might be. That hint is called resistance, and I’ve been playing with those thoughts all week long.

It started with questions and answers, of course:

Q. Why am I doing this?
A. I don’t know, it sounded good.

Q. Is this supposed to make some sort of difference?
A. Yup, but before you ask, I don’t know what the difference is and won’t know until I’ve been at it for a while.

Q. The old way was so much simpler and easier, why not go back to it?
A. Yes, it was simpler and easier and this seems like a lot more work. But, the fact that the old way was easier may have been a problem. I was operating on automatic pilot, not really paying attention. At least with this change, I am more alert and actually listening to, and hearing what I am saying.

Q. Well, I hope you remember that you ask hard questions. Don’t you think you might be setting yourself up for failure?
A. I might be. That remains to be seen. I haven’t failed yet, so we’ll deal with that if and when it happens, not before.

Q. This is all kind of silly, don’t you think?
A. Silly or not, it certainly seems to be going somewhere.

Q. Yeah, but do you have any idea just where it is going?
A. No. I don’t. Is that important?

Q. Well shouldn’t you know where you are going before you set off?
A. Yes, but not specifically, a general direction is quite enough at this point.

Q. Well, what’s the general direction?
A. Toward a keener sense of myself and how I operate.

Q. Lol, you’ve been doing that for ages and ages. Isn’t it about time you found a new and different subject? Aren’t you afraid that you are simply in a rut?
A. Well, it’s the rut I have chosen, and before you ask, no, I’m not done yet.

Q. When do you think you will be, finished, I mean?
A. The morning I don’t wake up.

Q. But, don’t you get really, really tired of all of this? Wouldn’t you rather be free of it and able to do something else, something new, maybe even exciting?
A. Yes, I do get tired sometimes, but that’s the very reason I’m trying this new format. And by the way, it is new, different, and therefore exciting.

Q. But what if you run out of questions?
A. Lol, I haven’t yet, have I? And do you really think that I will?

Q. No, I guess not. But aren’t you afraid that you’ll, you know, ask the wrong question and get yourself tied up in knots and then not be able to continue?
A. Again, we will deal with that if and when it happens. And yes, I am a bit worried about that, but also a bit excited by it as well.

Q. You are excited about being afraid? How smart is that?
A. Well, the fear itself seems to point to the fact that I’m on the right track. I don’t know if it’s smart of not, just know that fear is never a good reason to stop doing whatever it is I’m doing unless I am in danger of harming myself or others.

Q. Are you in danger of harming yourself or others?
A. Don’t know that at this point, won’t know that til I follow through and find out.

Q. That’s rather selfish, don’t you think?
A. It might very well be, but there are those who believe that a certain sort of selfishness is a virtue in many ways. And we’ve covered this ground already many, many times.

Q. Well, personally I think you are just being stubborn and will probably fall flat on your face. You’ve done that often enough in the past, haven’t you?
A. Certainly enough to know that it proves I’m human and that’s not a bad piece of information to have, is it? And again, what’s wrong with being stubborn?

Q. Well, a lot of people don’t like dealing with those who choose to be stubborn. Doesn’t it bother you that people might not really like being around you?
A. Umm, this is my journal. There are no other people involved, just me, myself, and I, and you, the voice of my own resistance to change.

Q. I might not be just the voice of your resistance, you know. I might just be the only voice of reason within miles. Have you ever thought of that?
A. Now who is afraid? And yes, I have thought of that and decided that in a very real way, that is a bit of what you are. All your questions help me to sort out what it is I am thinking and feeling, but also help me to know that I am on the right track, doing the right thing for me. And most important, why I am here and doing it in the first place.

Q. Wow! I do all of that?
A. Yes, you do and I thank you for it.

Q. Well, you are welcome, I guess. Think I better get going, but I’ll be back. See you tomorrow morning?
A. Yes, of course, tomorrow morning. (sigh)

Q and A

 

I started something new in my journal this morning. At the end of the page, I wrote out a question that I will respond to on tomorrow’s page. I used to have a friend who did that everyday, in an attempt to keep herself doing her morning pages. I thought it was a really good idea and have considered doing the same for several years. Yet, never did so until now.

I truly believe that my morning pages are the most important task of my day. Getting through them is not always easy, or quickly accomplished. Some days, I am shocked by the end of the page and have even been known to continue on to a second or third one. Those days are few.

Mostly, I start out by writing about some detail of the day before and end up exploring something in those details: a concept, issue, or question that arises as I am writing. The questions are always there. They are the consequence of an active mind. Responding to them is simply a quest to continue activating that mind. But, until now, I have not actually written out any specific question. Have even hesitated to do so.

Writing out the questions gives them a voice. It makes them solid and concrete. What if I can’t, or don’t want to find an answer? When I finally allowed that particular question to come to the surface, I realized why I hadn’t employed what I have always thought was an excellent practice. One that is particularly difficult and not an easy choice by any means.

Too often, questions feel like some sort of test. And I do remember, quite clearly, what test anxiety feels like. To belay that reality, I studied for hours and quizzed myself before hand, yet was always surprised when I did well on my exams. But, this is not an exam, its my journal: a dialogue with my own person. And it stands to reason that part of that conversation should be in question format.

I also think that a part of my hesitation had to do with whose voice I was actually activating by writing the question. Of course it is mine, but there are past voices I would truly desire to avoid, if possible, especially that of the finger pointing fault finder.  I know she is there inside of me, ready to place blame instead of holding her tongue til the truth of any given situation can be found. Judgment and blame are fairly easy excuses when the why of the thing is difficult to sort from all those other pieces of information.

Yet, it is truth that I am seeking. And my journal pages are a concrete aspect of that continuing search. Which means those difficult why questions must be confronted, explored, examined, and studied. The truth I find will always be subject to my own senses and interpretation. And if I ask enough of those questions, I may even curtail some of that too quick finger pointing while subduing that all too quick blaming and judging it is so easy to fall prey to.

In a recent email, someone said that she is learning, in her art, how to follow herself rather than pull herself along. I loved that insight. For years, I have been following the words to whatever destination they arrive at. In my art, I follow the lines and patterns in the same fashion. The image of dragging my own person from point A to point B looked an awful lot like an invitation to depression or worse.

So, how do I follow me in my journal? By finally writing out the questions, then seeking answers that carry some truth within them. Giving those questions the voice they deserve, making them as solid and concrete as possible. Far more direct and straight forward, I should think.  And I don’t really have a problem with writing “I don’t know,” inside of those pages. What’s more, I can also see me writing, “Here are few questions you might want to consider, first?”

I think I have found the pattern. The lines that lead more directly to where I actually want to be. Giving voice to those questions, also gives me words to follow to some unknown, but findable destination. Much better than facing off with the fog of depression that occasionally settles into this valley I call my life.

Here is the image that is dancing through my head, at this moment. All of the questions are held in a brown paper bag. Shake it up, then put your hand inside the bag. Pull one out, write it down, and begin. What’s on your slate? Questions looking for answers? Truth? Or answers just waiting for the right questions? Test anxiety? Blame and judgment? Following self, or pulling it along behind you?

I am known for asking the hard questions. Just ask me.

Evidence of Fear And Freedom

 

The notes gave physical substance to her words, leaving Starkey feeling vulnerable because she thought of the notes as evidence.

Demolition Angel
__Robert Crais

I believe that the greatest fear of anyone who even considers keeping a journal is that someone might some day read it and find them lacking. Might misinterpret what they read and come to rather strange or erroneous conclusions. Might question the sanity or balance of the individual who wrote the words, kept the notes from his/her life in just such a manner. Or, simply not like the author of those words and notes.

I read a great deal. Mostly I read suspense and mystery novels because I like the particular tension that develops as clues and connections are gathered, some discarded, others pointing in unknown directions and often creating more questions than answers. To me, that seems a lot like life itself.

We are most often, a mystery even to ourselves. Moving through our lives, gathering information and knowledge, creating goals we hope will lead us to what we really want our lives to be and often questioning our own actions and thoughts and trying to figure out what it all means.

In the novel, mentioned above, the author seems to set out to create a character it is hard to like. Starkey, that main character, is obviously dealing with alcoholism, and is stuck in a past experience that is driving her to explosion or implosion, using booze and medication to just get through the moments of her existence. Angry at what life has dealt her, she lashes out at anyone who gets close enough to get a glimpse of her reality. A reality that she denies and works hard to cover up.

The above quote is on page ten of the story. It caught my attention and kept it. I often think of my journal pages as the notes I am keeping on my own existence. Notes pertaining to where I have been, what I might think or feel about any particular subject, clues as to where I might be going. But, the word evidence sort of stopped me in my tracks.

Evidence sometimes implies some sort of guilt. That is what mystery novels are all about: collecting evidence of someone’s guilt or innocence. And the thought that I might be collecting evidence about my own person was rather striking, even though very true. But, evidence of what?

I already know that I am guilty of being an imperfect human being, one who makes mistakes. But, I am also an individual who occasionally does do it right and gets all the i’s dotted and the t’s crossed. I have the ability to get angry and even explosive and have even imploded at some points in time. I also know that I can be loving and giving, silly and redundant, soft and fragile, and hard as glass that shatters in a million pieces. That all just says the same thing: I’m human.

What’s more important, my journal pages, those notes I’m taking as I move through my days, prove that I am actually working on and through all those dichotomies and question marks. Using my energies and resources to try to resolve the problems and issues inherent in being human. So is the Starkey character. The notes mentioned in the quote are ones made by her psychiatrist.

Although the vulnerability she feels is due to the knowledge that someone has gotten close enough to know or remark on her reality, she is there, continuing to work at finding some answers. Big point in her favor. I didn’t much like her character, but at that point she did become human and I could definitely identify with her. And even more important, I wanted to stick around and find out more of her story. Kudos to the author for that one.

Although I have been keeping a journal for more years than not, I still have to occasionally deal with the thought of what might happen should someone stumble upon my notes and find something, someone they really dislike. And I don’t necessarily mean me, although that might be a secondary response to what I have written. At those times, I have to go back and remind myself of several things.

One, these notes are for me, by me, and about me. They are my private exploration of my own existence, person, and character. And by the way, I don’t always like the main character that appears on those pages.

Two, because they are private, they aren’t meant to be read by anyone else. Anyone who would do so is guilty of invading my privacy, without my permission. What’s more, any response they might experience because of their choice, is also their responsibility, not mine. They are eavesdropping, nothing more.

And lastly, I will more than likely not be around should such a thing take place. I would probably be dead and all concerns about the consequences of such a choice would be completely beyond me and totally out of my hands. That doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t like to be a wee small mouse, hidden in a corner of the room, should it occur, lol.

My journal, its pages and notes, are a freedom I grant to myself. Fear of what others might think is an interference with, and of that freedom. But, because I am its only intended audience, what happens if I find evidence that leads to my not particularly liking the main character? That might be the second greatest fear of those who choose to do this thing.

I guess I could come back and read this entry of my blog. But, better yet, I could remember that any freedom also entails a certain responsibility. If I don’t like the main character I find in these notes, then as the author, it is my responsibility to change her, recreating someone I can see as a human being, one who is actively seeking to know herself as well as giving herself a hand up in that process. Then she becomes someone I can like, encourage, and support by continuing in the process. Taking notes and finding evidence that will lead to a better, perhaps more favorable conclusion.

Following The Words

 

When I write, I usually begin with a vague idea, put down the first words that come into my head, then simply follow them wherever they lead me, or choose to go. I think I first came across that concept in a book by Natalie Goldberg, or maybe Julia Cameron.

Like everyone else, I had been taught differently. One might begin with an idea, but then comes an outline of points to be followed to that flashing light at the back of ones mind. Next comes the hard work of fleshing out each of the points in that outline, remembering to include at least one argument against whatever the main thesis that develops around that original thought might be. And if I’m really going to be honest, that’s about when the whole thing became really hard work and I would start pushing against it.

Mainly because I already knew that whenever I finally got to the writing, no matter what I wrote, it must be carefully, and several times, rewritten and revised to ensure clarity and coherence. And, again, to be perfectly honest, if I had continued in that programmed vein of how to do this thing, I would never have allowed myself to become a writer.

Both of the authors I mentioned above are far more concerned with simply getting on the page and staying there. No thoughts about eventual outcomes, doubts about ability, or fear of success/failure. Just do it and be done with it. So much easier than all that wasted paper, energy, and time, far more satisfying to ones sense of accomplishment ( a page filled, even with nonsense, is still a filled page), and the very real possibility that one can cut out all the crap and maybe even find something valuable in the process.

Amazingly enough, after trying and liking this new process far better than the headaches created by that old one, I discovered something really valuable. I’d already been engaged in doing the same thing when I wrote poetry. And poetry was the very thing that had gotten me thinking about becoming a writer.

With poetry, I found that a ‘catch’ phrase would lodge itself in my head. I would jot it down and then simply follow wherever it wanted to go. There were no thoughts of outlines, arguments, explanations, etc. It just sort of fell into place. The rewriting and revising were automatic and came after the writing was finished as I worked to make my point as clear as possible, when word chose became especially important. The original idea was already there waiting to be fulfilled in whatever manner I chose.

Once I had gotten past all of my own doubts about this ‘easier’ (therefore less appropriate or adequate process), and realized that I could use it because I’d already been doing it for some time, I relaxed and just followed the flow.

 What’s more, I also realized that I’d been practicing doing just that in my morning pages. My journal is nothing but off the cuff writing. Not always smooth and coherent, but it certainly was the process of following the words and feelings, the thoughts and ideas to whatever conclusion was available, or waiting to be found. 

That is not to say that giving up all that early training about how to write was simple or easy. It wasn’t. There are still mornings when I simply sit and stare at a half blank page of white paper and wonder if I’ll ever move again. I do, but on occasion it is still a stop and start process and a lot of pushing to get there. But, I have also discovered a great deal more.

My journal is a sort of shorthand process of that old training. It could be seen as the flash of an idea, a less rigid type of outline, and a revising and rewriting process all in one page. It is also just plain good practice, warming up or stretching exercises, for whatever might follow.

Furthermore, those stretching exercises often clear the emotional baggage attached to further writing. Because we have already begun, the actual beginning is far easier and less apt to encounter resistance. A filled journal page puts us in the zone, far more ready to continue than we might otherwise have been. It warms up the muscles and prepares them for the real work of getting on with whatever we are getting into, be that more writing or punching a time clock fully aware and alert.

For me, personally, following the words is a way of life. It begins on that journal page, but often results in blogs of poetry and personal essays, email exchanges that enrich my life with further questions and ideas to be explored, images that need to be expressed in vivid color, authors waiting for discussion, and all types of people wanting to converse and communicate. It makes all of my experience richer and fuller.

We are told that we are born with a clean slate. We grow up putting together some vague outline of where we want to go and what we want to do. But then, there are all those changes and surprises and that only call for more  revisions and rewrites. If we adhere to that original rigid outline, we may end up frustrating ourselves or just giving up in defeat. Daily, or regular practice, even if its only on paper,  can open doors, suggest new ideas and avenues, allow a coherency that might otherwise be lost, as well as the opportunity to try it all ahead of time, in private.  

I am thinking that I need to go back and thank that woman, the one who, over thirty years ago (maybe more), decided to get rid of the outline, the arguments and explanations, the rewriting and the revisions, and just get on the page and follow the words. For a youngster, she was pretty smart back then, and I can only say thank you to her for giving me that chance to become.

About That Plan, And Would You Care For Some Lemonade?

 

Just reread my last blog here. Had it all ready and set to go, yesterday. Even got here early, typed three words and the phone rang. A change of plans. That seemed to be the gist of my whole day yesterday: make a small adjustment, only to confront another change of plans. Not my doing, just life going on and throwing me small curve balls.

For instance, my counselor’s office called and said she had a cancellation and would I like to come in at two? But, I had just made another plan to wait for someone to come get something, and was unsure about what was going on with my car. So, I had to decline the offer, with regret, because I could have used an airing by that moment. As it turned out, the person who was supposed to come, never showed up. Late last night, a good friend called and we had the opportunity to talk for some time. I did get my airing, just not in the actual manner I had thought was necessary.

I really like the course my doodling has taken. I can pick up my sketchbook and do an image in what feels like minutes. It is satisfying. However, I started an image two days ago, got interrupted and didn’t get back to it until yesterday. When, of course, I was once again interrupted. This image is really a bit different and seems to be coming together in layers. It still isn’t finished, but I am intrigued by what is happening. And I have taken the time to keep a record of each layer as it develops. Apparently my morphing is morphing again.

Oh, there’s more. Because my early morning plan had been altered, I decided to cook lunch here while other things were going on. Got it all ready, only to find out that my brother had brought lunch for my Mom and I didn’t have to go over there until supper time. That just means that I have today’s lunch all ready to heat and serve. Almost sounds like a set-up, or a plan, doesn’t it?

My original plan was to get on the computer and write a blog here, off the top of my head. Like I said, that got changed after the first three words. But, I had been playing around with a poem in the preceding days, so went to that, cleaned it up and posted it on another site. Not what I had planned to do, but that gave me more time to think about what I really wanted to write about here, and as you can see, it also gave me the subject for this blog as well, lol. Love it when a plan, that isn’t a plan, comes together.

There is an old saying, “When life hands you a lemon, make lemonade.” I think I made enough lemonade yesterday to whet the whistles for an entire choir and all its attendant musicians. Have even had a passing thought that I should get a bottle of Amaretto and make another batch of slush (another kind of lemonade?). If I do, you are all invited.

When I wrote that last blog, I was aware that life is very seldom a smooth working plan and that, at best, one must make adjustments and even some compromises, or end up frustrated and fighting self and what seems like the rest of the world. I just didn’t think it would happen all in the same day. Yet, this morning as I wrote about all of it in my journal, I couldn’t help but see that with each adjustment, each change in the plans, I was also given time and space to do other things and actually accomplished a great deal that I wouldn’t have under other circumstances.

I was able to clean up some of my house, finish a poem that might have gone wanting, gain some distance from present moment frustrations, allow my doodling to once again morph into something new and even exciting, not have to worry about fixing lunch today, and clear out this morning so that I could easily follow through on that original plan and its consequences. Altogether, not a bad day and certainly not one that got busted because of personal angst.

Furthermore, last night, I finally finished reading a book that has been bothering me for a week. It was a difficult read, a story about a major disaster that disrupted untold lives, destroying others completely, and overwhelming many of the characters by demanding the type of courage we all hope we are never forced to face, or be in need of.

Although the plot is fiction, the background is a real occurrence that took place only a few years ago, a very real, life-altering disaster. It was hard to read and I did it in increments, small ones. I really like this author and wanted to see where he would take it. I wasn’t disappointed. He made a lot of hard lemonade. He left his readers with some hope, even in what he saw as a hopeless situation.

Yesterday was a learning experience. We can only live one moment at a time,  and we tend to frustrate ourselves when those moments don’t go as planned. A journal can be a place to make those plans, but it can also become a new recipe for lemonade. That is a choice we can continually give to our own person and, in that process, give ourselves hope and a willingness to continue into the next moment.

Would anyone like some lemonade?

It’s A Plan

 

Have said this before: I don’t do New Year’s Resolutions. For me, they are simply opportunities and invitations to failure. We make them year after year, and within short order, they most often go the way of the lemmings: following a straight path to the edge of a bottomless abyss and then right over that edge. They don’t work for me and take a hell of a bite out of my meager supply of gathered self-esteem.

But, due to circumstances and timing, I do have a plan for these coming months. It all sort of fell in place and I much prefer that course to others.  When I started blogging, I was as usual, a bit on the gung-ho level. I liked the whole environment and plunged in without a great deal of thought or concern. But, as will happen, circumstances changed abruptly and I found myself playing catch up more often than not, and eventually sliding toward feelings of hopelessness and failure ( a lot like a New Year’s resolution, yes?).

Over the past few months, it has become quite clear that some changes needed to be made, and because I was the one who was aware of it, that left me being the one who needed to act on that awareness. After some amount of thought about choices and time and energy levels, as well as lots of notes to myself in my daily journal, I figured out what I really wanted to do. I made a phone call and a suggestion which was very quickly accepted. That one step cleared my mornings and will allow me to put my personal plan into action.

As I said, at the beginning I had a very gung-ho spirit about blogging. This was my first step into that world and I loved it. But, then I also wanted to do a blog devoted to poetry and music that touches the soul and alters ones perspective. And then another about intuition and synchronicity, mythology, and symbolism. Can you see where this is going?

All of that was fine and actually working rather well, but at the same time, I had also opened the door to new creative endeavors and activities. I was now juggling, but much more satisfied than I had been in a long time. Then my mother got ill and we moved her into the apartment complex where I live. That sort of put me on call because I could just walk over and take care of whatever the problem of the moment entailed. I do have siblings and they have all pitched in and we have reaped many rewards from our care-giving activities, but my blogs were getting short shrift in all of it.

That was a problem for me. One I couldn’t seem to figure out or resolve. I felt a deep commitment to them, but obviously the commitment to my Mother’s care took priority. I did have a regular schedule when I started the blogs, but that sort of got blown out of the window by everything else that was happening. I felt pulled, pushed, and a bit worn and torn. Not good for anything or anyone.

Yet, with one phone call and one suggestion, all of the stress (or at least, a great deal of it) was relieved. I now have a plan and a tentative schedule that will allow me to continue my blogs, still work on my other creative endeavors, and care for my Mom, and not feel so exhausted half way through the day. It’s a plan, not a resolution or a new set of rules and commitments. Plans can and often do get changed.

One of the things that I do in my daily journal is to finish it with a very brief emotional weather report. Those were getting to be rather difficult over the past months. Lots of predictions about storm fronts moving in and nasty little squalls erupting willy-nilly on my inner landscape. Since forming my tentative plan, they now often mention Southerly breezes that have little to do with the freezing temps of my outer environment. At least, on that level, my plan is working.

I can relax a bit and that is important. My counselor keeps reminding me that there is far more danger to the care-giver than to the care-given in that particular situation. Lots of what I do is aimed at taking the time to take care of my own person. For the record, that isn’t selfishness, it’s self-preservation. If I’m always a bit tired, exhausted, and feeling like I’m moving under a cloud of pending depression, that affects everyone I come into contact with. Everyone.

My plan, and my softly spoken suggestion does the same thing. At least, I hope it will. If it works, it will ease not only my own situation but that of others around me. That is the difference between a plan and a New Year’s resolution. Those yearly resolutions are meant to change or alter only the individual who creates them. Have to wonder if that isn’t some of the reason they so often fail. My small plan was meant, and is intended, to move outward from my own space and into the lives of others that I care about and worry over as well. I have hope and crossed fingers.

Where are you on the New Year’s Resolution issue? Do you make rules then feel absolutely astounded that your first response is to break them, or at least fudge on that committed position? Do you make plans and hope for the best outcome, ready to accept the changes those plans might entail?

It Was A Very Good Year

 

That’s what some folks say about wine when it pleases their palette. They then go on to speak of the smoothness, robust flavor, color and taste. And, on some levels, I could say the same for this past year of 2009. For me it was filled with activity, creative process, changes in schedules and tasks, as well as in mobility. It has been a full-bodied year.

And this is the final day of that year. Last year, on this day, I did a sort of look back accounting of the year itself. Went back and read that yesterday and found some of the seeds that began to flower in this one. Last year, at this time, I had just opened the door to a delightful new activity: coloring.

I was thoroughly enjoying my own personal exploration and finding a wealth of expression in the process. It was soothing and healing. That eventually gave way to Mandalas, Zentangles, and sketchbooks of my own doodlings. Then I got involved in the Sketchbook Project at

www.arthousecoop.com/

I finished that project a few days ago and will mail it off later today. It was a bit overwhelming, but I did mange to complete it and am pleased, not only with the project, but the inspiration I found within it. I love the fact that all of the above has made me eager to face off with this New Year. If I had to define those experiences, I think I would have to title this past year, The Year of Creative Explosion (or Expansion).

I have written a great deal about the Wild Thing that resides in all of us. Yet, when I look back on these past twelve months, I find a very colorful Wild Thing that has patiently abided within me, waiting for just this opportunity to speak and express itself. One that never quite found complete satisfaction in the black and white world of words.

Due to a very limited budget, I had to make most of my Christmas gifts this year. And it was a delight to realize that I had spent so much time preparing for that without actually once thinking about it. There were all those images, full of color, harmony, beauty, to work with. Married to a few words of poetry, they were the perfect expression and vehicle for what I had to do. I loved the outcome and so did those who received them. Those were very special gifts and I loved giving them.

But, this year was also been  The Year of The Car. I hadn’t owned a vehicle in five years, and had the opportunity and took it. What a difference that has made, not just in my mobility, but in the way I see myself and pursue those things that interest me most. It meant freedom in so many little ways, and an expansion of my choices as well. Although it also limited my meager budget even further, it was well worth the stress and worry I put into making that decision.

Also, in this past year, my relationship with my family has been altered a great deal. My sisters and I have been able to care for my Mother with some amount of smoothness, a lot of humor and laughter, and a lot less distance. We have all gained support from one another and, that in turn, pleases my Mom probably more than anything else could.

But, that also means that my time and energies have been altered in both large and small ways. My blogs have suffered, simply because I have had to let go of some of what I had been doing. I refuse to give them up completely because they satisfy that Wild Word Thing that also abides within me. Although they are not anywhere as prolific as they had been, they are still a basic form of satisfaction that I can’t afford to let slide away completely.

Best of all, I have been able to keep my journal up on a daily basis. It still forms the beginning of my day and is still the best friend I have ever had. When I jot down ideas about things I would like to do, or images I would like to try, it is almost as though those thoughts move from wishes to promises I am making to my own person. Some, like the Sketchbook Project, seem a bit overwhelming, but just writing about those feelings seems to become a prod to simply keep moving forward. I have no desire to disappoint my best friend.

Looking back on this past year, what I find is an element of contentment and satisfaction I have not known in the past. It’s also a bit scary. Could next year be even better? All I can do is hope. That’s not a bad way to begin another year. Are you hopeful for the same?

A Christmas Wish For You

 

Home-made Christmas card, please click on the image to enlarge and read it. 

 

 

All of my gifts are hand-made this year, so colored this and wrote the greeting to all who happen to click here. Found the image online and had an hour of fun coloring it. Hope all of you have a Wonderful Holiday.

Taking A Snow Day

 

I have been very remiss with my blogs of late, pleading busyness. I’m caring for my Mom, trying to make Christmas gifts, finish up a project I committed myself to, and also trying to maintain some sort of routine that allows me to relax during each day. Then came a blizzard and over fourteen inches of snow, followed by wind chill factors not meant to sustain human existence.

Definite snow day(s) for most of the school aged children in the region. I liked that idea: a totally free day to spend doing something I wouldn’t ordinarily do. So, of course, I made myself a spur of the moment project. I created my second Mandala Gallery and posted it on my poetry site:
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/

Spent several hours browsing through my files, picking out the images I thought were the best. That was far more difficult than I had thought it would be. I’ve been coloring these designs for months and enjoying the process, but never realizing just how many I had accumulated. And the funny part was that some of the ones I had thought didn’t really work, turned out to be quite striking and even satisfying.

Then came the process of placement and naming. I really like these designs and each one says something different to me. Wanted to be sure that they were shown to good advantage and still supported and enhanced the others. And, although they do speak to me, I have some trouble finding appropriate titles for some of them.

Had been thinking of doing this for some time, but was hesitant because I knew it would take time and lots of thought. There is also the reality that each design had to be uploaded and I am definitely not a computer techie. But the fact that it is my second gallery attempt, did ease the process a bit, even though I get a bit squeamish at anything that goes beyond simple word processing.

With only a few minor glitches here and there, I did eventually have it all up and running. Then simply posted an invitation to everyone to have a look/see. Only realized afterward, that it is my Christmas present to anyone who takes the time to respond to that invitation. It is a gift of color and beauty. No small thing when considering that I am far from the only human being running around like a directionless widget in the middle of a blizzard of other things to do.

The amazing part is that my gift was given to me, by me, and even for me. Those hours I spent totally engrossed were, by far, the most satisfying I’ve had in several weeks. It was an incredible break and one that was more needed than I could have imagined. Yes, there were a few moments when I considered the insanity of my own choices, but dismissed that thought and simply plunged into it. And it was far more rewarding than anything else I could have done.

That time altered my person. I came away refreshed and ready to get on with all that other busyness. In fact, shortly after completing the Gallery, I also did two more pieces of that other project I had committed myself to doing and was having many second thoughts about finishing. Actually did start the part of it that I have been avoiding for a month. The part I had pretty much decided was silly, perhaps a bit immature, maybe even inappropriate.

And, as is often par for the course, all that worrying and procrastinating simply fell away once I took that first step. What came after, came with an amazing amount of ease, and even satisfaction. It allowed me to see the project as a whole and that is always very important. I now know that I am into the final phase and headed into the home stretch. That is such a good feeling.

Creativity feeds on creativity. It’s called inspiration. Yesterday, I allowed myself a snow day. A space and time to do what I would normally have not done. In the process, I surrounded myself with bits of color and beauty, my own creativity. Actually allowed myself to get lost inside of it for several hours. It was both healing and inspiring.

My younger sister, who shares in the care-giving for my Mom, is leaving town for a few days. She gifted herself and her daughter with tickets to a musical concert. I could be jealous, I suppose, but instead am glad that she too is allowing herself to have a snow day of her own. She will surround herself with music that will lift her up and perhaps help her get through these next two weeks of hectic Christmas activity. In preparation for that, she did more than her fair share of care-giving and that, in turn, let me have a necessary break and create my own snow day. Not a bad exchange.

My hope in all of this, is that you too will allow yourself a snow day, blizzard or no. Find a way to allow yourself to make a snow angel, some bit of color and beauty that would otherwise not exist. Refresh and refuel, if only for a few hours. Christmas is coming fast, and although that may mean fun and even excitement, it also means hectic activity and a depletion of energy sources. Take the time to gather a few extra ounces of that commodity and feed yourself on some moments of color, music, and beauty. You definitely will not regret it.

And my invitation is extended to you as well. If you have the time, feel free to come and see my current ’snow angel’. Who knows, it might even inspire you to make one of your own.

A Walk-About

Last night, my oldest daughter and I watched The Hallmark Hall of Fame movie, A Dog Named Christmas. At it’s very beginning the author of the tale defined the animal as a walk-about dog. One who travels on foot, may settle for a time, but then at some point, simply moves on. A seeker, perhaps following his nose, but always moving forward in search of something. A wanderer.

For many of us, it is difficult to understand why any creature would choose to wander and never really establish a home. There are many sayings that in one way, or another, tell us that “Home is where the heart is”. Yet, many of us have known wanderers, people who wander into our lives and then leave it again after a time.

We may remember them clearly, even recall their names long after they have moved on to other places and other people. While others, may become only vaguely remembered persons who might have shared some time, or even one experience, and then chose to continue to be a ‘walk-about.’ We, ourselves might be just such an individual to countless others.

In the movie, the dog wanders into the lives of a family and changes the dynamics of their lives. Touching and altering the manner in which they deal with one another and the way in which they see themselves and others. But then chooses to stay instead of moving on. No one can know his reasons, maybe he just got tired. It doesn’t matter because he brought them something they might never have known without his presence. In a very real way, he changed their definition of home. Expanded it, made it different and better than it was.

I am over sixty years old. In those years, I have met and gotten to know a great number of individuals. Some retain a clearly defined image in my memory, while others are no more than a blur, and some have been forgotten entirely, as have I, perhaps by many of them. But each of them brought me something, shared it with me, and maybe even altered my destiny with the gift of themselves.

Some of them have been my friends and I have missed them when they have chosen to move on. Some have brought me hard gifts, lessons I would have chosen not to learn, but still needed to do so. And my one hope is that I have been able to do the same for at least a few of them. I don’t remember all of their names, and doubt that many remember mine.

Here on these pages, I often speak of life as a continuing journey. One that doesn’t have to leave home to become a walk-about. If one keeps an attitude of openness, it is a journey without end, but not without a home. And each individual that we encounter is simply another walk-about, a seeker, as well as a teacher.

There is another saying, a caution as to how we should deal with strangers because we can never know when we might be entertaining angels. That might become even more important if we realize that some angels might choose to stay in close proximity, becoming living members within our own families.

When one embraces the idea that each of us is created with a purpose to fulfill, and a function to be completed, then all people have something to offer and gifts to be given. And each of us becomes a walk-about, following our senses and seeking our own destiny. Perhaps helping our fellow travelers in known and unknown ways. That is not to say that we should throw all caution to the wind. But if we are to trust the heart which is our home, there comes a time when trust must take us forward on our journey, or fear alone, will stop that journey.

How do you deal with the walk-abouts in your own experience? And how do you deal with the walk-about you yourself might be? Do you recognize the angels that you entertain, and do you offer the gift of yourself in small and even larger ways? Are you like me: sometimes patting yourself on the back for how far you have wandered and explored, but at other times realizing that you may have backed yourself into a corner and become only a watcher of other peoples’ journeys? Do you accept the gifts that come your way, or dismiss them out of hand believing you really don’t need them.

One last question: If you were to become a walk-about, which direction would you head in?