One Word

I just glanced at the clock on my computer and realized there are ten minutes left to the first day of this new year and I find myself asking already ... "Where has the time gone?!"

My mother said the older I got, the faster time would pass... and I hate to admit that she was right; perhaps this is why I have been focused on learning to live in the present these past few months.  I spent so much of my youth wishing I was "old enough to...." and I have spent many mid-life years just waiting for this phase of life to pass.  And now I find myself wanting time to stand still.

Living in the present won't add minutes to my life, but I do believe it will enable me to better enjoy those minutes.  I cannot slow down time, but I can slow down myself.  Rather than focusing on doing and productivity, I can begin to focus on being and the sensory details of the world around me.

There is a movement in the blogosphere to select one word for the year.  One word that will help focus energy and bring about change in a very subtle yet permanent way.  I have participated in this tradition for the past two years.  In 2012 my word of the year was balance... a great word, but in the end, I realized was not at all practical.  Last year I chose the word peace... which moved me to closer my desired destination.

This year I did some research.... yes, I want peace, but that is a rather lofty goal; what is the best path to achieve peace in life?  I researched the definitions of words such as:  joy - happiness - satisfaction - contentment - harmony - tranquility.  And I concluded that one of the key ingredients to finding peace in life is learning to be content:  content with what you have; content with where you are; content with who you are.

Content to me does not mean laziness.  It does not mean that I will say "this is the best there is ... or this is the best I can be" and just lay down and give up.  NO!  Content means being satisfied with the way things are today.  I hope that I am never too old or too weary to stop growing, for to me lack of growth or learning is certain death.  But I do want to learn to be content ... accepting... satisfied... that what I have and I have achieved today is good (enough).

So my word for 2014 is:  Content.

And as I glance once again at the computer clock and realize that it is already the 2nd day of this new year, I will look back at yesterday and say.... It was good.

Happy Birthday....

My youngest turns 20 today - a special milestone for both of us.  Mandy can say good-bye to those teenage years, the ones filled with awkward first loves. fancy school dances, and the drama of high school friendships.  She is now entering a new decade where her entire life is before her - filled with dreams, hopes, and the knowledge that anything is possible.  Mandy is a bright young lady, if I do say so myself, and I am so blessed to have had the opportunity to witness her grow into an independent young woman.

But today is significant for me as well.  I am no longer the mother of a teenager - a role that I have played for fourteen years.  I am not necessarily melancholy, just reflective.  We certainly had our fair share of struggles and differing opinions, but for the most part my children managed to navigate the turbulent teens with maturity and intelligence.  They are all well-adjusted adults, living on their own and supporting themselves.  What more could a mother ask?

Mandy has lived two decades, and when I stop to remember the day she was born, it truly does not seem that long ago.  It causes me to wonder ..... how quickly will the next twenty years pass?  What is my future calling?  How will I continue to make a difference in this world?  What limitations (physical as well as mental) will hold me back?

The first two decades of my life focused on education... to be the best student I could be.  The second twenty years focused on marriage and raising a family.  The past ten years returned me to the classroom,  this time as a teacher.  What will be the focus of this next phase of life?  Writing?  Perhaps.  Grandmother-hood?  For sure.  But is there something more?

My mother once said, there is a fine line that separates, "some day I will...." from "there is not enough time to..."  I need to start prioritizing those dreams and hopes,  begin to set deadlines, and become serious about planning for this golden age.  I do not want to look back on life with regret.

So I will say a fond farewell to the teenage years... at least for another decade, when my granddaughter will be on the cusp of her thirteenth birthday.  There is certainly a lot of living to do between now and then.

Mumford and Sons Concert: Bonner Springs, KS

Mumford and Sons - Lion Man

Music has always played a large role in my life, but live concerts have never interested me.  I think it is the large crowds and deafening instruments that leave me anxious and overwhelmed.  And in fact, I have only attended three live shows in my life:  Chicago when I was in college (circa 1980); Bruce Springsteen for my 27th Anniversary, and Mumford and Sons this past Friday night (a belated Mother's Day gift).  However, I must say that this latest concert exceeded all expectations and I am already dreaming of attending another ... except on their home turf in London, England.

I will not pretend to write a detailed account of the concert or the band's  musical talent - my brother is the music review guru in our family... and I will not pretend to discuss the acoustics or the lighting or any of the other technical specifics, as my son is far more qualified.  But I will tell you that I LOVED the concert and their dedication to fans, their passion for music, and their commitment to delivering a quality performance.  I appreciated that they sang the songs as we know them from the album, with limited harmony variation.  The audience, myself included, sang to every song and thoroughly enjoyed this intimate connection with the band despite the thousands of people in attendance.

The light show was engaging without distracting from the music.  The introductions were kept to a minimum because the band acknowledged that they knew we "all came to dance and listen to their music."  Because I knew I wanted to remember this special occasion in great detail, I made note of the night's playlist - and I thought I would share it here, for those who might also find it interesting.

The Playlist:

• Lovers' Eyes
• Babel
• Lion Man
• Below My Feet
• White Blank Page
• For Those Below
• I Will Wait 
• Lover of the Light
• Thistle and Weeds
• Ghosts That We Knew
• Roll Away Your Stone
• Awake My Soul
• Holland Road
• Dust Bowl Dance

Encores:

• Two Songs A Capella with just acoustic guitar accompaniment --- fabulous!!!
• My Love Don't Fade Away
• Timshel
• Both opening bands + Mumford and Sons
• Bruce Springsteen's, Meet me Tonight in Atlantic City
• Final Mumford and Sons Encore
• Winter Winds
• The Cave

Mumford and Sons - A Capella Encore

While I did not time the show exactly, I can tell you that it started around 9:20pm and the band walked off the stage after the final encore at 11:10pm --- nearly two hours of non-stop, high energy music.  And if you bothered to count the selections ... a total of 19!! Even between songs, when the band was reorganizing the stage and adding or replacing instruments, music was always playing in the background.  The pianist was able to showcase his skills and I was truly amazed.

I am not sure if this was a typical show on the concert circuit - perhaps others were shorter, perhaps not.  Bonner Springs, KS  had the dubious honor, however,  of being the final show of this two album tour.  The band told us that they were headed back to England for some much needed R&R --- and they assumed we wanted them to write more songs (insert "thunderous applause")

As my daughter noted on our drive home after the concert, I would love to see them again.. but I really want to see them in a pub.  The way they connect with their fans and their music, made us feel like they would have enjoyed giving the same performance for an audience of ten as for an audience of ten thousand.  Truly an amazing evening.... and I owe it all to my attentive, generous husband.  There is a joke in the family about a certain ruby bracelet that I did not appreciate as much as was anticipated..... This, dear Geoff, is my ruby bracelet; you hit the ball out of the park!

I feel that I must apologize for the quality of these two photos, however, dslr cameras were not allowed in the venue and the iPhone was all I had to work with.  But in this case it was not the photo that made the evening, it was the music that allowed us to escape from our routine lives and the lyrics that reached deep within our souls that is most memorable.

Arboretum Reflections

In celebration of cooler temperatures and bright sunny skies, I decided to take a photo safari to our local arboretum.  Of course the nice weather encouraged others to enjoy the outdoors as well, so it was a bit more crowded than I anticipated. I only stayed for about an hour, but in that time I was able to take a few pictures and reflect on this time of year.... and life.

This week one of my students reminded me of the prologue to Tuck Everlasting - an exquisite passage of literature for me, although not necessarily a favorite of the student.  Natalie Babbitt sets the scene by describing a summertime heat spell:

The first weeks of August hang at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning.

When I taught the book to seventh graders, we discussed this simile at length:  if seasons of the year are compared to a ferris wheel, it is then logical that the hottest part of the year would be at the top before it "falls" into autumn.

This also corresponds to a lesson I teach in my British Literature class.  Currently we are discussing symbolism in literature and how each season often has an archetypical meaning:  spring symbolizes rebirth; fall symbolizes old age.  We all found this a bit incredulous, however, because when we think of fall we imagine vibrant colors, delicious hot drinks, and warm comfortable clothing.  We don't think of old age and dying.

But if we look closely at nature we discover that this is indeed a seasonal affect.  And while I recognize that my age indicates I am "over the hill" ... I prefer to think that I am in the autumn of life.

I might be losing a few petals....

or be a bit withered around the edges...

But I still have purpose in life...

and I welcome special friends

Life's Accomplishments

For those who follow this blog on a regular basis, I am sure that it comes as no surprise that I have been dealing with some kind of "mid-life" crisis.  And while I truly hate the cliche aspect of that statement, I am beginning to understand why it is often a necessary transitional phase of life.

1. According to the Social Security website .. the average life expectancy of a female in the United States is about 86 years.  That means that once we turn 43 we are, indeed, "over the hill"  If this information is correct... I have approximately 32 years left.  I want to make the most of these three decades, but that adds a bit of pressure to life.
2. After nearly 25 years of being a full time mom... my youngest moved out of the house leaving me with the proverbial "empty nest"  Now, I am not complaining; this is not all bad, especially for an organized neat-freak such as myself.  But it is a defining moment when the life I have known for a quarter of a century is dramatically changed.
3. While it is not true for all, it so happened that both my parents passed away close to my 50th birthday.  As my husband admitted when both his parents passed away... that makes us orphans.  And for me, it also meant I became the matriarch of the family --- and the image of Angela Channing of Falcon Crest instantly comes to mind (trust me, she was not a loving, compassionate character...).  This is not a role that I would search out myself; I much prefer to be behind-the-scenes in any dramatic situation.
4. In a two week timespan I not only became the matriarch... but a grandma.  Not that I mind that role (I absolutely adore Brynn and she seems to enjoy my company as well)... but I am not fond of the title.  "Grandma" conjures up the image of a frail little old lady with gray hair and arthritis.  I hope that I am not that "old" for a long, long time.
5. And... I look back over the past half century and I wonder....what have I accomplished to impact this world?  A lofty question and yet one that I feel I need to answer.  Is it teaching?  Hardly.  Perhaps I have motivated a few to do their best...and inspired even fewer.  But I fear there is a greater number whom I have discouraged, who perhaps had an interest in writing but I pushed too hard.  Is it catering?  A very part-time career that was fun and creative, but did it impact the world for the better?  I doubt it.  Is it market research analysis?  I know for certain it is not.  Does it really matter if a study is conducted in order to perceive customer reactions to charging for ATM transactions? I don't think so.  But is it being a mother? The one job that does not compute on the 21st century scale of profit margin and measurable improvement....  

But over these past few days I have realized that being a Stay-at-home Mom does indeed qualify as the most significant job I have held.  And while my personal accomplishments are small, my children's accomplishments are great and worthy of praise.

Megan, my eldest, has grown into the most amazing mother.  She is far more patient with her  daughter than I ever managed to be... and she edifies, encourages and inspires Brynn to reach her full potential.  While Megan did not gain these skills from her own mother, I am so pleased and proud that she has overcome childhood detriments and become an extraordinary mother to her own daughter.





Brian has had a future in music since he was five years old.  He has always had a song in his heart and quite the stage presence... but in 9th grade he self-recorded his first song and was hooked on audio engineering.  He has parlayed that experience, along with his natural talent for videography, and is making quite a name for himself in Nashville, the Music City.  His latest claim to fame was to record Martina McBride's recent behind-the-scenes video at the Grand Ole Opry.  Brian recently married his high school sweetheart and they are going to take the city of Nashville by storm.

And then there is Mandy, my youngest... and the one who is probably most like her mom.  Mandy loves to read.. and she loves to bake.  She is tender-hearted and takes life, perhaps, a bit too seriously.  But Mandy also has an amazing writing style (and as a high school English teacher, I think I can recognize that without too much prejudice).  She has maintained a low-profile catering business for the past two years and has just recently started her own blog, Treats and Tidbits, which not only showcases her baking ability but her writing talent as well.

My children are now grown and independent.  They are leading productive lives and are happy and well-adjusted.  What more could a mother hope for?  What is more important in life than to help raise a next generation who will positively contribute to this world?  Nothing, I say.  And my heart is full....

Personal Reflection: An Evening Walk

Today was the first day of a new school year for me.  Three classes in a row from 8:15 to 12:20 on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  A livable schedule.  And while I will not pretend to think that is the extent of my duties, I do plan to reserve Mondays and Fridays as sacred time for me to pursue personal interests like writing and Bible study and perhaps taking my granddaughter to the local library for two-year-old read alouds.

And since this is the start of a new year... I thought it only fitting to get back into a walking regimen.  I did so well at the beginning of the summer, walking 3.1 miles five days a week, but then a bum knee sidelined me for a couple of weeks and well... it is far more difficult to start a healthy routine than it is to maintain one.  And while I prefer to walk in the mornings when I am a bit more alert and the midwest weather is a bit less steamy, I forced myself to head out the door this evening and begin yet again.

As I huffed and puffed along the familiar trail listening to my playlist, I noticed a bunny dart across my path; apparently I startled him as I walked by.  And then I noticed another bunny quickly hop out of sight as I neared his location.  I found it quite interesting that they were perfectly content in the grass next to the road with the cars zooming by, headlights shining brightly, but the rabbits were fearful of me... the lowly walker who adores animals and would not dream of harming them.  Were they perhaps familiar with the traffic patterns and realize if they stay on this side of the curb they will not be harmed?  Was I the unknown factor and therefore cause for suspicion?

I continued to walk on, but I could not help but wonder if perhaps I am like those little rabbits.  How many times have I been scared of the unknown and shied away, when in reality there was nothing to fear. What blessings have I missed because I am not willing to stick around and take a risk?  On the other hand, how comfortable have I become with the familiar, edging too close to the fine line of temptations and bad habits that if crossed could cause me great harm?

An interesting point to ponder, and when I reached home I realized that taking a walk is not only good for the body, it is good for the mind and spirit as well.  Nature has a lot to teach us, if we are only willing to stop long enough to take a look.

Sunday Salon: Paris for the Semester

This time last week I had just finished reading my first Historical Fiction saga, Paris, and absolutely loved it!  I entertained the idea of reading another one of Rutherfurd's works, I have both London and New York sitting on my bookshelves, but instead I decided to linger in literary Paris a while longer.  In fact, I think I may spend the entire semester here.

There is good reason for this decision; let me share a bit of background information.  For about four years now I have had an idea for a story that just won't go away.  I have done extensive research on the lives of several Impressionists and the Paris of that time period.  I currently have three Moleskines filled with notes.  I have visited three museums, most notably The Frist in Nashville, The Art Institute of Chicago, and the Musee d'Orsay in Paris, to view firsthand these famous works of art.  I have collected images of many of these paintings to help me develop characters, settings, and plot ideas.  I have fleshed out the protagonist, antagonist, love interest and mentor.  I know at which point the story begins and how it will end.  What I am missing is a compelling conflict.

I have challenged myself to write this story during NaNoWriMo, which begins November 1st - a little less than three months away.  I have decided that I will try to immerse myself in this time period as much as possible between now and then, in the hopes that my subconscious will work some creative magic.  Many of these books I have already read and reviewed on my other blog:  Dancing for Degas and From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E Frankweiler; Luncheon of the Boating Party; Life Stories; and Marie, Dancing... but I plan to re-read them over the next several weeks.  I recently picked up The Painted Girls (by Cathy Marie  Buchanan) from my local library and plan to begin reading it today.

Reading is not the only activity I will pursue while preparing for NaNoWriMo.  I hope to complete several detailed character sketches where I not only know their physical characteristics, but also their most intimate thoughts, secrets, and motivations.  I have many images of 19th century Paris, either digital files on my Pinterst board or as postcards purchased during my 2011 trip. I want to study these pictures and practice writing sensory details of each of these settings.  I want to envision this Parisian time period as vividly as I see present-day Kansas.  While I would relish the idea of re-visiting the Art Institute of Chicago this fall, I may content myself by viewing the few Impressionist paintings at the Nelson-Atkins.

It's rather funny... from the time I was eight years old I have wanted to spend a semester abroad.  It looks like I may finally achieve that dream, albeit in a slightly different manner than I had imagined.

Where did that come from?!

Tonight was back-to-school night... my twelfth as a teacher, but the first in which I did not have to welcome parents and attempt to give a twenty minute speech in seven minutes flat.  I made the decision to "semi-retire" last spring and have relished the thought of fewer classes, fewer preps, and fewer papers to grade.  That is... until I was driving to school this evening and realized that my sole duty was to distribute yearbooks.  I had no copies to make - I had no room to set up - I had no syllabi to review.  For all intents and purposes, I was going to be a non-entity, without purpose and value... and my eyes filled with tears.

WHAT?!  Why the tears?  I am thrilled to have long weekends where I can focus on my own hobbies and interests rather than tweaking lesson plans.  I love the idea that my husband and I can take off for four day adventures throughout the school year.  I have accepted the calling to write (whatever that means....) and gladly devote Mondays and Fridays to develop this new "career"  I have burned the candle from both ends for so many years that I crave the solitude and peace that this new teaching schedule will afford.  And yet....

I did not realize the fulfillment and satisfaction I derived from teaching a "full load"  I was a part of the inner workings of the school.  At one point not too many years ago, I was teaching 7th grade - 8th grade - 9th grade - 11th grade - 12th grade English classes PLUS computer apps and yearbook.  I knew practically every secondary student in the student body.  I was a long-time member of the Academic Committee and my longevity at the school earned me some respect.  But now... I teach two upper level classes on the "off" days.  I will not interact with other teachers - barely interact with administration - and only be familiar with juniors and seniors.  Yes, the subjects I now teach, I am truly passionate about... but my sphere of influence has dramatically decreased.

This evening during the Principal's introduction of teachers... it was quite apparent who are "popular" among students --- and with total reason.  Loud claps, hurrahs and cheers were elicited when the Algebra teacher, Biology teacher, and World Views teacher names were called.  And at one time - a couple of years ago, I was  a recipient of that kind student applause.  But this year, there was the token recognition at the name of "Mrs. Totoro" while the principal continued on.  I always knew I was replaceable... I suppose I had hoped that I would not be forgettable.

This sounds so narcissistic of me - and I hate that.  I am thrilled that other teachers have come to replace me.  I am honored that my lesson plans, syllabi and handouts have made it easy to pass on that responsibility to someone else. I am glad that my peers are loved and honored by the students.  I am excited to have a some personal time to devote to other interests.  I suppose that I am just mourning the fact that this time in my life is coming to a close.  And perhaps I am realizing for the first time that ... I really am a teacher, despite the lack of certification.  For I do not think I would miss the hustle and bustle of back-to-school if I were not.

Morning Musings...

This morning I was determined to get back into my walking routine after a three week hiatus due to knee problems.  In all honesty, the injured knee was only out of commission for two weeks but that was apparently long enough for old habits to return.  I enjoy walking.  I like the challenge of pushing myself  to improve, and I like the residual energy I seem to have throughout the day.  My workout playlist is upbeat and always puts me in a good mood.  So why do I resist?

Musing #1:  It occurred to me today as I was dressing for the activity... that the hardest part of the walk is putting on my shoes.  As silly as that sounds, I feel the most resistance when I first slide my foot into the sneaker and then begin to lace it up.  Once I make myself overcome that hurdle, it seems as though I am at the point of no return.  I suppose my mind reasons that if the shoes are laced, it is more trouble to take them off than it is to complete the route.

Musing #2:  I had walked about a quarter of mile, just long enough to complete the first song and increase my heart rate.  I was feeling good.  I was feeling confident.  And I noticed a woman across the street who was also walking, however her speed was significantly less than mine and I was certain that she would not break a sweat.  I reasoned that she was out for a stroll and that was better than sitting on a couch.  I did not necessarily snub her choice of exercise, but I wondered if she would receive any health benefits from it.  I continued on my way.

My route consisted of walking up the street to the junior high, walking twice around the track, and then walking back home.  It is a little less than three miles but is a pleasant path.  As I was walking home, breathing quite heavily and sweating more than a little, I noticed this same woman walking back carrying a plastic bag.  She had apparently gone to the grocery store and I calculated she must have  walked at least two miles round trip.  More than a little stroll, I'd say... she was exercising with a purpose.

and that led me to Musing #3:  One of the cultural traditions that I love about Europe is the daily visits to the local market.  Women (and men) gather their fish net bags and walk to open air shops to find fresh produce, bread, cheese, and perhaps a bit of beef, poultry or fish to take home for dinner.  The menu is devised on the spot, dependent upon the selection, and the daily outing is an adventure.  Perhaps this is why the Europeans are not as obese as Americans?  Perhaps this daily walk to the store, rather than get-in-the-car-and-drive keeps them fit.  And perhaps as they walk every day they are more mindful of the groceries to select:  striving for heart healthy foods, reasonable portions, and lightweight items.

This woman I saw today is living that European life - or at least I like to imagine it that way.  And if this is a tradition that I admire, why do I not implement it in my own life?  I live less than a quarter mile from the store and yet if I need a quick item or two, I drive rather than walk.  Maybe I need to keep those sneakers out in the open...

Musing #4:  Convenience and efficiency.  I marvel at the conveniences we have in the 21st Century and I am truly grateful to live in this technological age.  Indoor plumbing is something I cannot fathom living without... and a washing machine and dryer are necessities.  Dish washers are wonderful, especially at the holidays, but sometimes I wonder if I miss some peaceful solitude by not hand washing the dishes in a sink full of warm sudsy water, gazing out the window at the beauty of nature?

Computers and smart phones have enabled us to be so much more productive.  GPS systems prevent us from getting lost, cell phones are invaluable when the car breaks down on the highway, and apps can help me keep track of my to-do list, grocery lists, calories consumed, etc etc etc.  I can certainly type much faster than I can write, and emails are a way to communicate irregardless of the time of day.  But I question whether my pursuit of efficiency and productivity is a valid one? Ideally I would hope that by taking advantage of these productivity tools I would find more time to relax with pleasant past times that promote peace and tranquility.

But instead I seem to be addicted to the treadmill of life.  The more productive I am, the more I want to fit into my schedule.  The more I fit into my schedule, the more items I can check off the to do list.  The more items I check, the more accomplished I feel.  The more accomplished I feel the more I want to do.  It is a never ending vicious cycle.  But perhaps the time has come to wean myself of this addiction and balance productivity with peace --- convenience with mindfulness.  And perhaps the morning walk is a great place to begin.

Personal Reflections: Sterile Surroundings

I have been organizing my nook in preparation for back-to-school planning that will begin next week.  I weaned my bookshelves of five bags of books and took them to Half Price so that others might have the opportunity to offer them a good home.  I sorted through office supplies to ensure I had ample pens of various colors, pencils, paper clips of assorted sizes, index cards, and post-it notes.  And I cleared the craft tables of project remnants like scraps of cardstock, assorted rubber stamps, and corresponding ink pads.

Yes, the nook is tidy... not necessarily clean (as dusting and vacuuming are not my strong suit)... but everything is in its proper place.  And while there is a deep feeling of satisfaction that I have a well-maintained area, I also have this nagging feeling as if something is missing.  And surprisingly the word "sterile" came to mind.

Now when I think of "sterile" I immediately imagine a hospital:  solid white walls, shiny linoleum floors, and the unmistakable scent of rubbing alcohol.  Not a place I enjoy visiting.  So why would I associate sterile with my beloved nook where I enjoy spending hours each day?

I decided to look it up in the dictionary and realized that there are two distinct meanings associated with sterile: one matching my image of the hospital, that is disinfectant and germ-free - but the other definition is barren, empty, unfruitful.  At first glance it does not appear that my nook is barren - one look at the loaded bookshelves and overrun craft center would dispel that assertion; and it is certainly not germ-free as the light coating of dust that clings to all flat surfaces would attest.

But then it occurred to me:  my space is empty of any sensory inspiration.  I sit here in silence most of the day, not because I need silence to focus... but because I never think to turn on music.  Why is that?  Music was such a large part of my life in high school.  Why do I deny myself of its richness now?

And while the room does not have the lingering scent of Lysol, it is also lacking any fragrance  whatsoever.  I am always attracted to the pleasing names of the popular three-wick candles - Caribbean Escape, Salted Caramel Latte, Lavender Vanilla - but for some reason I never choose to light one when I am in the room.  

And for the most part, my sense of touch is confined to either the laptop's keyboard or the swipe of the tablet's screen.  I use Pinterest as a virtual dream board rather than cutting magazine images and creating old-fashioned collages; ebooks are slowly replacing the print copies; and writing in a word processor is far more efficient than handwriting.  But what have I compromised in the long run?

Could it be that my desire for a tidy nook has sabotaged my own creative efforts?  Have I inadvertently cast the muse outside the door so that my sterile silenced will not be disturbed?  I complain that my right brain has atrophied, and yet I have established an environment where it cannot flourish.

Well, no longer.

As of today I will reconnect with that music loving girl of high school.  Between iTunes and Pandora, I am bound to find any style of music to match my mood and project.

As of today I will light a candle and allow the pleasing fragrance to transport me, if only for a short while, to a happy place of my choosing.

And while I will not completely give up my valued electronics, I will try to spend a portion of my morning writing the old-fashioned way - with paper and pen.  Slowing down to allow the hand to catch up with the brain could be a good exercise in fully fleshing out ideas.  Gliding the pen across the paper, focusing on the image of connected loops and appropriate dots resembles the act of painting - which is good food for that malnourished right side.

And occasionally reading a book in print, with highlighter in hand, could provide that perfect textile experience that reconnects me with the storytelling muse.

Sterile surroundings?  No longer.  I should like to think of the nook as cozy and inviting, with perhaps just a bit of a mess.

Personal Reflection: Shades of Gray

If you came here in the hopes of reading a book review of the popular adult erotica trilogy... you will be sadly disappointed.  I have not ... nor do I plan to read them.

But I have been ruminating on this idea of shades of gray for quite some time.  I have tried to live my life by following the rules --- ALL the rules.  I have always prescribed to the notion that rules are in place for a reason:  to protect others and to protect ourselves.  Some people, however (many of my close relations), tend to live life by viewing rules as mere guidelines - subject to personal interpretation.  And as you can imagine, this has created some conflict over the years.

For me, life decisions have always centered around what is either right or wrong; good or evil; black or white.  But I am learning that this dichotomous view of life is too rigid.... there can be a gray area.  And as it turns out, there can be many different shades of gray, or black, or white.

I am a rule-follower and a perfectionist by nature... a deadly combination.  But when I add this absolute dichotomy to the mix, I sometimes feel as though I am going to implode.  Let me give a humorous example.  It was mid-afternoon on a warm summer day and several of us decided that ice cream would be the perfect snack.  Dairy Queen was the chosen destination.  Now, I had never been to a Dairy Queen, but was looking forward to a new adventure.  How could I go wrong with ice cream, right?

I distinctly remember walking into the shop, looking at the menu, and instantly feeling overwhelmed.  At that time we had the choice between ice cream or yogurt - vanilla or chocolate.  Ok, I could handle that... but did I want syrup - and if so, which of the five different flavors?  Then there was the decision as to which add-ins to choose:  fruit or candy or both?  I was literally paralyzed from making a decision and, I kid you not, I walked out of the shop empty handed.

I can look back now and laugh at myself, but not at the time.  Was there a "right" or "wrong" decision?  Of course not.  Might I like one combination over another?  Probably, but I could still enjoy the tasty treat.  Would there be an opportunity to return again sometime and try another flavor?  Absolutely.  But none of these "shades of gray" entered my head.  There was either the perfect Blizzard or failure.  And I could not risk failure.

A more recent example - and one in which I have shared on this blog - is the decision to become a writer.  I am still working through this one... as silly as it sounds.  But in my mind I can either call myself a writer - or not.  Do I write?  Yes.  Am I a writer?  No - because I argue, writers must be published, they must have an audience, they must be more creative, etc.  Is it possible to be a writer and a teacher?  Of course it is... but it took me a full month to realize that it was not an either/or decision; it was an "and" decision.

Perhaps that is the key.  To add "and" to my vocabulary and delete the "or"  And invites gray to enter the picture; Or maintains the black/white perspective.  Old habits die hard and I anticipate that this one will be quite difficult to break, but I am at least aware of this limited view, and I have a sincere desire to broaden my mindset in the future: to become more inclusive rather than exclusive - to promote multi-tonal harmony rather than single note melody - to embrace coexistence rather than adhere to strict interpretations.

It is somewhat interesting I have always shared a fondness for color, perhaps it is to compensate for the lack of shading in my mind's eye.  I enjoy scrapbooking and card making - mostly because of the colored paper used in these  projects.  And I am drawn to quilting even though I hate to sew.  I love the combination of bright vibrant colors with shades of subtle hues in precise geometrical patterns.  It is the perfect partnership of the right brain (abstract) and left brain (structured).  It is my hope that in this discovery of shades of gray I might open my mind to adding shades of other colors as well.... to invite the entire 64 color box of crayons for a visit and show me the endless possibilities of creative thought.

My Paris Room

The completion of this room has been a year in the making... and quite honestly if it were not for the creative vision of my son, it would never have happened.  But this francophile now has a Paris room that comes incredibly close to experiencing the real City of Lights on this side of the Atlantic, and it is easily accessible at an affordable price!

pre-renovation

The room originally belonged to my youngest when she was a toddler through elementary school.  The mint green wall paper with soft pink rosebuds suited a little girl just fine.  But she moved out of the room in sixth grade and it has remained a catch-all dressing room ever since.  At one point we tried to remove the wallpaper, only to discover that there was at least one more layer beneath that had been painted over twice.  Too much work for our busy lifestyles.

But last summer my son had a vision that the room could be transformed - and he made that dream a reality.  Rather than scrape wallpaper for days, he used a texture technique that could be applied to the existing walls.  Using ordinary tissue paper that had been wadded up and then re-flattened, he adhered each piece individually to the walls using a small amount of paint (in our case, a soft antique white).  While this was very time consuming and elicited the help of most family members, the result was a stucco appearance that rivaled the feel of vintage European architecture.

Parisan Cafe

It was my idea to try to replicate the feel of a Parisian cafe on one side of the room ... in the hopes that following the routine of Hemingway might inspire my own writing endeavors ... and then an indoor apartment on the other side, complete with a window view of Sacre Coeur, my iconic Parisian monument.  We were fortunate enough to find this lovely bistro table setting for two on one of our many visits to Lowe's ... and I purchased it on the spot (well, after much coaching from my son).  I found the black-and-white striped cushions at Hobby Lobby and a perfectly matched valance on Amazon.

The light reminded me of an old-fashioned gas light, which would be perfect for an al fresco setting, and the ivy garland at the top was to help recreate the atmosphere of an outdoor experience.  I managed to find a copy of the menu of Le Moulin de la Galette (my ultimate Parisian dining experience) which I printed and framed, and I used a collage frame to showcase some Parisian postcards circa turn of the 20th century.

When you enter the room you see the "indoor apartment" view.  My mother's red couch was the perfect  accent piece, and coordinated perfectly with the silk geraniums I used to adorn the window boxes.  While I have another room, which I fondly call my nook, that houses most of my book collection, I have chosen to keep only those books that pertain to writing and travel on this bookcase.

While it is hidden from view in this photo, I did manage to find an Eiffel Tower desk lamp at a local flea market to use on my French provincial nightstand from childhood that serves as the perfect side table where I can put my beverage, a scented candle, and a holder for all my writing utensils.

But the piece de la resistance... the one item missing until just this week... was the framed picture of Sacre Coeur that I can view while sitting on my couch.  We found the window frame at a local flea market ... along with the matching red shudders.  I took the picture when I last visited Paris two years ago, and found a terrific online printing service that cropped the photo to my specific dimensions and mounted it on foam board for stability.  My husband was able to use his carpentry skills to tape the photo to the back of the frame, adhere the shudders to the side of window, and then secure the window to the wall.  The result was perfection!

The trunk belonged to my husband's grandmother and is the quintessential symbol of exotic travel.  And while it is impossible to tell from this photo, I have small tea lights embedded within the ivy that add a warm twinkling glow after dark.

I also have a fountain in the room, that lends a soothing sound of trickling water... albeit a bit too loud for this small space.  And in an effort to entice all the senses, I have a Baguette scented candle that when lighted takes me back to the fragrant aroma of the small neighborhood boulangerie ... and I recently purchased a 3-CD collection of Parisian Cafe songs that I play in the background.

It might be a number of years before I return to my beloved Paris... but until then, I can come very close to recreating that intimate cafe experience every single day.  Many many thanks to my son... and husband... who made this dream a perfect reality.

Personal Reflection: Christmas in July

Like many people my age, I remember hearing stories of the Sears Roebuck Wishbook -- Mom anxiously awaiting its arrival so she could pour through the pages of Christmas possibilities.  Of course money was almost non-existent, so the wish lists remained a figment of dreams, and eventually the catalog was recycled by making paper dolls.

I do enjoy the excitement of the holidays, although now I focus on the gift giving rather than receiving... but there is one other time of year that I anticipate with the same joy and wonder as I did when I was a child:  Back to School shopping!

I can spend hours (and often do...) walking slowly up and down the aisles looking at all the different colored pens, decorative notebooks, and colorful folders.  I try to envision a color-coordinated office desk complete with vibrant paperclips (we no longer have to settle for the industrial bland silver ones), a variety of post-it notes in several shapes and sizes, and a well-stocked pen holder filled with all the writing instruments I can imagine:  ballpoints, roller balls, gel pens, and flairs, along with bright yellow highlighters and several well-sharpened pencils.  Oh... the creative possibilities that are available right at my fingertips!

Yesterday I made my first back-to-school purchase (yes, I will go again... at least once) and I had a blast.  Many of the items are annual purchases, stocking up now while the prices are low.  But I also found a few new supplies to add to the cart.  Here is a quick run-down of my loot:

• Index Cards (with box):  I LOVE index cards!  They are the perfect size to store anywhere, and they provide just enough space to jot a few notes.  I use them when I teach the research paper project - but I also use them when I teach a novel study:  I have one notecard per lesson for pertinent questions or information I want to discuss in class.  I also think I might use these for my own writing this semester, perhaps using them for scene development or character traits or any other worthwhile notes.
• Colorful Sharpie Markers:  remember when the sharpie only came in black and only in one size tip?  Well, no longer!!  There are neon sharpies, pastel ones, and I think there is even a pack showcasing "80s colors"  Right now I do not have a project in mind for these... but I am hoping that having them in my house will provide inspiration for a use.
• Packs of Pilot G2 gel rollers (the unofficial moleskine pen):  I have experimented with these pens for the past month or so and have decided they are the perfect pen to fit my needs.  Unlike a ball point pen, these pens literally glide across the page, with no skips or scratches.  The ink dries quickly (I have yet to have a smudge problem) and it does not bleed through the page (a huge requirement for me).  They now come a wide variety of colors (purple is my favorite) and I know that I will have no problem using these to their full advantage.
• Crayons:  I have always loved to color - and now that I have a two year granddaughter I have a valid excuse to buy them!  Not surprisingly my favorite is the box of 64 crayons with the built in sharpener in the back, so that way I can have a perfect point all the time (yes... I am a bit OCD) BUT.... this year they have something new:  packs of 8 in a single color family!  I purchased the pink pack for Brynn, but they also have 8 shades of green, blue, yellow, sand, pastel, and gray.  I have a future blog post that will showcase the gray pack I purchased.
• Pen/Pencil Bags:  I cannot pass up the opportunity to stock up on supplies when the prices are reasonable --- and come fall, the variety of school supplies will dwindle.  So, when I saw these cases in purple, I just couldn't resist.
• Glue Sticks:  One of my favorite hobbies is to make greeting cards using rubber stamps and various embellishments.  I also use lots of card stock that requires adhesive.  At the price of 2 sticks for 50 cents, I knew I had to squirrel several away.
• Notebooks:  I saved the best for last.  I have never been fond of spiral bound notebooks - the spiral begins to unwind and catches on clothing or skin... and tearing pages leaves a snow flurry aftermath - but composition notebooks do not lie flat and make writing for long periods of time quite difficult.  These notebooks are perfect!!  They are composition style, but the front cover is soft and malleable, meaning I can fold it back and still write with ease.  The pages lie flat and are college ruled, a perfect combination.  And the fun, decorative colors are an added bonus.  At only $1.97 a piece, I bought several and may return for more.

While several friends and family members feel I am a bit crazy to indulge in this kind of retail shopping therapy, I simply cannot imagine that I am the only one.  Do any of you anticipate this time of year as much as I do?  I would love to hear....

An Insightful Week...

Many of you know that I have been struggling with the idea of calling myself a writer.  My hands still sweat as I type that statement.  But this week I have had  to confront this issue head-on.... and this morning I feel as though I have direction.  Indulge me as I record the events of the past few days so that in the future when I have doubts about this decision, I can look back and review.

• On Monday evening a dear friend, who has a vested interest in my teaching career, admitted that she feels I am being called to write and I need to pursue that calling.
• On Tuesday morning I read in Galations 6:1 (The Message translation) - LIVE CREATIVELY, FRIENDS ... and I was dumbstruck!  It never occurred to me that living creatively was scriptural.  It sounded too whimsical .... not serious enough.  Could it be that my recent desire to focus on a bit of fun and color and childish dreams was exactly what I needed to do?
• On Tuesday afternoon I visited with a counselor who is trying to help me sort through a few of life's recent changes.  After a lengthy conversation, he spent the final fifteen minutes convincing me that I need to write... and in fact, that I need to call myself a writer.  But what would I write?  What would people think?  What if I am never published?  Wouldn't that be a waste of time... a waste of life?  So many fears to work through... which is exactly where he said I needed to start writing.
• On Wednesday morning I followed his suggestion (because after all, I am a good student and try to complete all assignments).  I journaled a lot ... about 2,500 words.  But ultimately, I discovered that I have two basic fears:  #1 --- I do not trust that God loves me enough to have me "succeed" doing something that I love.... and #2 --- I fear rejection:  rejection of what others might think while I pursue this little hobby... and (if it gets to this point) rejection of my work by other writers or publishers.  In other words, that I will be discovered to be a fraud.
• This morning I was once again pondering (perhaps obsessing...) this idea of Molly the writer... when I realized that too many confirmations have presented themselves for me to ignore:
• I have had no less than five validations that I should pursue this vocation ... and not all of them from faithful friends who would encourage me no matter what (but I so appreciate their support and kindness!!)  
• Scripture reveals that I am not only to live creatively ... but also to follow my heart's desire (Psalm 37:4 - Take delight in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart)
• The realization that it would be in keeping with the Lord's character to use my passion to help me face my biggest fears - and to learn full dependence upon Him
• The A-ha moment when I became aware that my calendar has already been cleared to transition into this part-time career.  This academic year I will only teach on Tuesdays and Thursdays which leaves three weekdays free to write.  The Lord knew all along.

And so I have come to realize that if I say "no" to writing, I am living in disobedience to His will for life right now.

I do not know what I am going to write... but I am going to learn to trust Him to inspire me.

I do not know if what I write will be of interest to others... but I will trust His timing.

I do not even know the end-goal... but I will rest in knowing that He will guide me one step at a time.  And for now... I just need to take that first step.

So... today is my first day of orientation.  I need to create some organization systems and I need to brainstorm some possible projects.  I leave for Iowa City tomorrow to take my second writing course for the summer, Spiritual Journaling, and when I return early next week, I will begin my new job.

The jitters are there.... but so is the excitement of a novel adventure (yes... pun intended... sorry!).

Personal Reflection: Nouns vs Verbs

While I may teach English and my students believe I invented the concept of proper grammar.... I assure you that this post has nothing to do with that dreaded subject.

But I have been reflecting on these two parts of speech for the past several months, ever since I took Patti Digh's online class, Verb Tribe for Teachers last summer.  And while this notion I put before you is not my original idea, it is a culmination of my musings.

Nouns and Verbs are essential in our English language, but they serve two different purposes.  Nouns name.... or to put it another way, nouns label.  If, for example, I say the noun "table" - you will immediately conjure an image of that object.  Verbs, on the other hand, show action... or in other words, verbs DO.

And while nouns serve me well in everyday life, I have come to discover that they hinder me when I try to express my purpose in life.  For example, if I label myself a teacher... I immediately think of all the positive teacher role models of my past (those who encouraged me,  inspired me, pushed me) as well as those who humiliated me and led me to believe that I was not good enough.  And with those opposite ends of the spectrum I am left to wonder.... what kind of teacher am I?  It is often paralyzing, for I fear that I am the latter.

But if I use the verb instead... I teach... judgement seems to disappear; comparisons are not an option.  I do, in fact, teach.  It simply states the action without any reference to the quality of its performance.  This puts me at ease and allows me to accept myself.

And the same could be said for other noun vs verb scenarios.  It scares me to death to say that I am a writer, for being a writer (to me) means I must be successful and then I must ask the question, how do I define success?  A published work? Probably not good enough.  A New York Times Best-seller?  If only one time, then I would reason it is probably a fluke.  Several weeks on the best seller list?  Hmmm... not sure.

But if I say instead... I write... the pressure is off.  I do indeed write.  I write journal entries, blog posts, books reviews, personal essays, travel articles, etc.  I have never been published but somehow that is inconsequential.  I write... and that is enough.

And let's not even venture down the path of photography.  I could never call myself a photographer! Up until two years ago I never knew there was a "rule of thirds"... I always thought centering the subject was the point of a good portrait.  I took a photography class two summers ago, but rather than encouraging me in my new hobby, the instructor made me feel completely incompetent.  Call myself a photographer?  NEVER.

But... I do take pictures.  And I enjoy taking pictures... of landscapes and nature and travel excursions.  I like to capture a moment in time in order to revisit those memories again and again.  I like to edit the image and try to bring out the emotion of the moment and not just the subject matter.  If I were to focus on the noun I would sell my camera on Craigslist tomorrow.  Instead, I need to focus on the verb.

Yes, nouns serve a purpose in life, but they also label, and with labels come judgments - and harsh judgments can prevent me from moving forward with life.  So instead, I will choose to define myself by my daily verbs and take those necessary baby steps towards progress, attempting to enjoy the process rather than solely focusing on that final result.

Morning

Yesterday's photo prompt for the 31 Things project was "morning" ... but since I did not review the list until late afternoon, I had to improvise.  I did like the idea of capturing my morning routine for this period of life, however, so today I set out with that purpose in mind.

My morning perch

Not a great picture, I must say, but it is somewhat of a challenge to deal with the low light situation while at the same time trying to keep three dogs at bay.  This is, however, my typical a.m. perch:  coffee on the shelf within arm's reach, laptop precariously balanced on the arm of the well-worn couch, and the local news providing white noise in the background while I review emails, check Facebook postings, and begin my morning writing routine.

During the school year I typically wake up around 5:15.  I make the coffee the night before and set the timer for 5:00 so that it is ready to pour when I walk into the kitchen.  I then walk downstairs into the family room (or as we fondly refer to it as the "dog" room) to let out the pooches, ensure they have food and water, and take my proper seat.  In the summer I am not quite the early-riser, getting up anywhere between 5:30 and 6:30 depending on what time the dogs bark (they are more reliable than a rooster, I am certain).

The banner I had in my
room throughout
high school
and college

While I have never considered myself a morning person, I much prefer to leisurely start the day rather than sleep an extra few minutes and then have to hit the ground running.  I typically spend about a 60-90 minutes here in this solitude (except for the occasional canine snuggle) slowly acclimating myself to daylight.  I take time to review the events of yesterday... typically in my morning pages; quiet my soul with a devotional reading and prayer; and then begin to plan the day's activities.

Lately I have followed this routine with a morning walk.  It can be beastly hot in Kansas in the summer, and I find the early morning hours to be the most comfortable of the day.  I'm not sure if I will continue this portion of the routine when school starts.... but it works for now.

Writing Dreams and Routines

Over a year ago a good friend and I joined Ali Edward's class entitled 31 Things.  The concept was simple yet profound.  Ali offered a list of 31 items (one for each day of the month) that we were to photograph and then write a journal entry.  Talk about a class that is right up my ally!!  I have had a three year dream of marrying my photography endeavors with my writing to create a photographic essay, so to speak. Well, that enthusiasm lasted the sum total of one day and then life happened and the list was filed away.

But July 1st marks the beginning of the second half of the year and I thought it would be a great time to resurrect this project.  Now, I believe that rules are to be followed and a classroom syllabus is more than a guideline, but in an effort to lighten up a bit and have some fun, I have decided to view the list as a starting point rather than a mandate set in stone.  The prompt for "writing" does not appear until day 23... and there are some prompts that I may not use at all.  But that's ok.  I am slowly returning to the joy of taking pictures, and I am moving forward on my photo essay dream.

I will not necessarily post all the entries on this blog, but I thought today's was relevant and fitting.

I have maintained a fairly consistent morning writing routine for the past few months.  I complete my morning pages (the wonderful idea of 'brain dumping' first thing upon waking up as Julia Cameron describes in her book, The Artist's Way) and then review two daily devotionals and journal my thoughts and prayers.

All of this activity takes place on line.  I have fully embraced the computer format of writing (I can type much faster than I can hand-write and therefore my fingers can keep up with my brain)... and I even use YouVersion to supply my devotional readings and Bible Gateway to provide my scripture references.  I discovered the online journaling site, Penzu, which I absolutely adore.  For a mere $19/year I have access to unlimited journals that I can customize (to a certain extent) with my own creative design.  In addition, these journals can be password protected, if desired, and all entries can be tagged for easy reference at a later time.  This morning routine works well, and I have no desire to attempt to fix what is not broken.

However... I have long harbored the dream of regularly writing at an outdoor cafe:  sipping on a hot espresso, pondering the next line to write in my moleskine notebook, joining the tradition of other great writers such as Hemingway and Fitzgerald.  And of course, if the cafe were in Paris... along the Seine... with the Eiffel Tower looming in the distance... that would be magnifique! Quite the romantic notion indeed!

But I have this odd hangup of not wanting to sit in a restaurant (or cafe) by myself.  I feel so self-conscious and wonder what others might think of the odd eccentric sitting in the corner writing by herself.  And I also have this hang-up with perfectionism:  wanting every pen stroke to be of genius quality rather than brainstorming dribble.  And so I have allowed these negative thoughts to prevent me from pursuing this simple pleasure in a writer's life.

However.... last summer my son was kind enough... and innovative enough... to transform a homely spare bedroom into a Parisian paradise.  The walls are textured to resemble European stucco; the table and chairs are reminiscent of an authentic bistro; and the small details of red geraniums and lamppost lighting captures the true essence of a literary cafe.  I have my writing dreams within my grasp, and yet I have ignored them.... until now.

While I love the speed and seamless perfection of a word processor (the delete key is my best friend), I think that handwriting with old-fashioned paper and pen causes us to be more methodical... so that our fingers cause our thoughts to slow down and capture small sensory details rather than merely fleeting ideas.   And handwriting is as much an act of artistic expression as it is a means to record thoughts.  Handwriting is as unique and personal as our fingerprints --- readily identifiable by those who love us. When I was a scrapbooking consultant I would ask students:  wouldn't you rather have a recipe handwritten by your grandmother rather than one that is typed?  And the answer was always a resounding yes.. handwriting captures personality, individuality and emotional make-up; a keyboard only captures words.

And so I plan to revisit the Paris room on a regular basis.  I plan to sit at the bistro table with a cup of coffee... or glass of tea... of goblet of wine... and stare out the geranium framed window and slow down my thoughts.  I plan to daydream for the first time in years... and write nonsense or whimsy in one of my many journals with different colored pens and have fun doing what I love to do.

Happy Music

I was working through some writing exercises the other day and one of the prompts asked, "what music makes you happy?"  Now oftentimes rapid fire prompt activities cause my brain to freeze and I need to let it sit and simmer within my head before I put pen to paper.  But such was not the case with this question.  The answer came to me immediately ... and took me by surprise.

My Workout Playlist.

For someone who has always loathed the word "exercise" and has never adopted any kind of regular workout routine (most likely stemming from the fact that I am athletically challenged and somewhat uncoordinated, rather than I do not see the value in keeping fit)... I almost wondered if my brain had misunderstood the question... or perhaps blurted out the wrong answer.  But as I considered the possibility, I realized how blessed I am to have found a reason to want to walk each day, rather than dread it.

At this point I have maintained a regular walking schedule since April 8 -- striving for a minimum of two miles a day five days out of seven.  I have not achieved "perfect attendance" but I have not allowed that failure to keep me from starting over again the following week.  I even treated myself to the first pair of running shoes I have ever owned --- purple of course --- and I am anxious to start logging the miles.

So in honor of "happy music" I thought I would share this eclectic play list... although I feel I need to offer a disclaimer of sorts for some who may be reading this blog.  I first and foremost choose music based on rhythm and beat.  I like fast-paced, spirited songs ("foot stomping" music my kinfolk might have said).  Secondly, I listen for melody.  I enjoy music that has a memorable tune - one that I can humm along.  And lastly, I listen for lyrics.  In fact, sometimes lyrics are incidental to me (except for those of Mumford and Sons which are always supreme)... and thus will explain why perhaps a couple of these songs are not exactly rated PG.  But it is the rhythm and melody that keep me moving... and that is what makes me happy.

1. Send Me on my Way by Rusted Root
2. Awake My Soul by Mumford and Sons
3. Don't Stop Believin' by the Glee Cast
4. My Hallelujah Song by Julianne Huff
5. I Gotta Feeling by The Black-eyed Peas (video = adaptation for the literary lovers)
6. Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men
7. Roll Away Your Stone by Mumford and Sons
8. Viva La Vida by Coldplay
9. Such Great Heights by The Postal Service
10. Beautiful Day by U2
11. Sigh No More by Mumford and Sons
12. Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield

Quotes I am pondering this day...

This is a summer of reflection and (hopefully) reconnection.  Using an assortment of methods, including online journaling classes, summer writing courses, and a myriad of spiritual writing books, I am slowly rediscovering life.

And while I have no earth-shattering experiences to share today, I thought it might be beneficial to record some thought-provoking quotes I have read while working my way through The Artist's Way.  Perhaps you might enjoy them as well.

We will discover the nature of our particular genius when we stop trying to conform to our own or to other peoples' models, learn to be ourselves, and allow our natural channel to open up.   --- Shakti Gawain

What doesn't kill me makes me stronger.  --- Albert Camus

There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening, that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique.  And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost.  --- Martha Graham

Look and you will find it --- what is unsought will go undetected.  --- Sophocles

Often people attempt to live their lives backwards:  they try to have more things, or more money, in order to do more of what they want so that they will be happier.  The way it actually works is the reverse.  You must first be who you really are, then do what you need to do, in order to have what you want.  --- Margaret Young

Writing Adventure - Day 1

As I mentioned in the last post... I took a major step outside my comfort zone by signing up for a Travel Writing workshop through the University of Iowa's Summer Writing Festival.  It sounded like a great idea in March.... I like to write; I love to travel; the University of Iowa has the number one ranked MFA program in the nation so it would only make sense that they would attract top writing instructions for these non-credit classes.  However, this morning I had a much different outlook (the following is an except from my daily journal with my post-class comments highlighted in red):

I thought it might be worthwhile to write down all the things I worry about before going to this travel writing class.  While these are in no particular order....  I am excited to report that nearly every single one of these worries was unfounded (found in the red commentary).

• my book bag is too big - I am taking too much stuff and will look like a bag lady rather than a literary scholar; my book bag is not a backpack - which is always the going fashion statement
• no one cared about the bag I carried ... and by the end of class, neither did I
• I brought the wrong kinds of books - my books are all thematic stories and I should have been interested in books that are travel articles
• We did not even discuss the books that we read prior to class
• I am interested in travel writing for stupid reasons - others have vast travel experience and I just go to a few select places
• tis true... many have traveled to far more exotic places all over the globe; but that did not seem to matter. My few travels were sufficient.
• I have no travel writing experience - and others will be travel writers from way back - or already be published - or already have several ideas that they are ready to polish
• While there were many published writers... most had published only free-lance articles in a variety of other genres.  And there were several who had nothing published at all.
• I will be the oldest one in the class - and appear like a fool
• Oh contraire.... I was definitely on the younger end of "average" age.  And it was a marvelous feeling not to have to compete with 20-somethings.
• my writing is not good enough - focusing on the wrong theme - or wrong details - or not enough details
• I discovered that we all focus on different details and they are neither right nor wrong.  Some focus on humor; others on sensory perceptions; others on prevalent life themes.  There was evidence of terrific writing in each of the eleven participants
• I will have nothing worth sharing and we will all have to share
• Indeed... we all had to share.  And it was nerve-racking.  But I learned that in a crowd of ten other participants, I found a sympathetic ear with at least one other person.
• I will have no commentary worth adding and we will all be expected to add our own constructive criticism
• Well... this remained true.  I have a difficult time voicing my opinion in a group setting and so I remain quiet and reserved.  But... I don't think others minded; and I was not made to feel inferior because I chose to remain quiet.
• I won't be able to find the room - or I completely misunderstood the booklet and I am in the wrong building
• Again... no worries.  The entrance was easy to navigate; the greeting staff was warm and inviting; and all classes were held in the adjacent building.  It was a non-issue
• I won't be able to find my way around campus
• Well, since all the activity surrounds just two buildings and both buildings are adjacent to one another... this was also a non-issue
• I will be alone at lunch - and not know where to go or be too afraid to eat on my own
• Biggest surprise of the day!  A lady from Des Moines came up to me after class to discuss the sample I had read aloud... and we ended up having lunch together at an Indian food buffet (not my normal fare, but it was an adventure).  It was the second best part of the day.
• I will be unable to answer any of the writing prompts 
• Well, nearly true.  There was one writing prompt in the morning which I attempted (it is very difficult to write anything of value in a five minute timespan) ... and then another prompt in the afternoon which fortunately, we did not have to share (as I only wrote notes and not a cohesive paragraph).  I was definitely outside my comfort zone but... I survived.
• I will feel so out of place
• Not so much.  As I looked around the auditorium in the morning I felt as though I was among compatriots rather than an outsider looking in.  The classroom consisted of 11 students and I felt as though I belonged, as we were such a diverse group of individuals.  I always feel uncomfortable sharing... but the group and the instructor helped all to feel welcome and appreciated.
• the class will not be nurturing but very judgmental
• Totally unfounded.  The instructor is amazingly gifted at listening to our new material and offering nurturing comments that are not empty flattery nor deflating critique.  Fellow classmates were also quite nurturing with nary a single negative comment.
• the instructor will find me crazy if I mention Ken Mott at Gettysburg
• Actually I went up to her after class to explain my connection and we spent nearly ten minutes discussing the changes within the Gettysburg College community.  She knew Ken and it offered a nice connection between us.
• my notebook isn't appropriate - but I would rather use my laptop but no one else has one
• It truly did not matter.  Some used netbooks; others full size laptops; some used moleskines and others cheap spiral notebooks.  The point was to write ... the method was irrelevant.

The true highlight of the class was after the session was over.  Geoff drove me to the local independent bookstore, Prairie  Lights, and I had a wonderful time perusing the books on travel, writing, and art.  I met a fellow classmate, the one with whom I had lunch, and we started talking about writing in general.  She is a published author... writing articles for various publications and copy editing for several others.  She has been in the business over a decade and I believe she knows the writing craft.  

In our casual discussions she complimented me on the two pieces I had written in class, and then asked if I had considered writing fiction.  When I told her my YA novel idea... the one that I have considered for the past four years, she was intrigued.  In fact, she spent nearly half an hour brainstorming potential conflicts and various plot trails.  In the end, she offered to collaborate with me and even offered her copy editing services.

I was floored!  This woman is "in the business"  She has read extensively in the genre of my possible novel (time travel).  She was an art history major (the time period and focus of the novel) and she reads the writing endeavors of many... making her a credible authority of "good" and "bad" writing.

While I have had several friends and family members encourage me to pursue this writing craft.. and I do not take their support lightly... I also felt as though they were being kind.  They wanted to offer support because they like me.  But this woman was different.  She had no vested interest; we would not have to see or talk with one another again after tomorrow's session.  She has been in the business quite a long time.  And still... she took the time to let me know she thinks I have talent.

I believe that this was the reason I was supposed to be in Iowa City this weekend; not so much to take a travel writing class but to be encouraged to pursue this interest.

I am on top of the moon... and I feel quite blessed.