I hesitate to mention this, since it could easily be viewed in a "sideshow" way. However, on this occasion my better instincts are at work, and I'd like to ask you to look at this situation in an empathetic way.
Last night, as I was doing my crunches and channel surfing, I came across on The Learning Channel a documentary on a pair of conjoined twins, formerly called Siamese twins. These girls, Abby and Brittany Hensel are 15; they are two distinct personalities, two people. Each girl has a head and a face and a mind, and otherwise the two of them share one body, each with feeling on her respective side of that body.
At first glance, it didn't seem possible. After watching them being interviewed for a few minutes, my startlement wore off and they seemed to present simply another of the endless million variations on ways to be human, on how to be confident, outgoing sixteen year old girls.
One of the experts interviewed said that the singlets in the world have a couple of important things to learn from those who are conjoined. One is openness to a wider range of human differences, and the other is cooperation. Brittany and Abby have to somehow come to an agreement moment by moment about their every action, and they have to coordinate movements, each of them in charge of one arm. Even so, they manage to drive a car, type email, etc. I can barely imagine the complication and difficulty of that.
Neither they nor their parents treat them as limited. Their friends seem to see them as two regular girls. Anyone who ever felt odd in high school would have to be profoundly impressed by what these girls take on every day and treat as normal life. I'd add a third item to what I can learn, and that is courage as a way of life.
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Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Take Charge of Your Situation
"I once ran into a wise old friend, and he asked how I was doing.
'Fine, under the circumstances,' I replied.
He raised his eyebrows and laughed:
'What, pray tell, are you doing under there?'
What circumstances are you under? List three moves you can make to rise above those conditions?"
From Zing: Five Steps and 101 Tips for Creativity on Command by Sam Harrison
(Added thought from Peggy: when you write down what circumstances you're under, keep it short, a sentence or two. The idea is to go beyond the situation, not sink deeper into the mire of it.)
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'Fine, under the circumstances,' I replied.
He raised his eyebrows and laughed:
'What, pray tell, are you doing under there?'
What circumstances are you under? List three moves you can make to rise above those conditions?"
From Zing: Five Steps and 101 Tips for Creativity on Command by Sam Harrison
(Added thought from Peggy: when you write down what circumstances you're under, keep it short, a sentence or two. The idea is to go beyond the situation, not sink deeper into the mire of it.)
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Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Throw Off Minor Depression
I was in a truly shitty mood this morning: bitter, sad, angry, depressed simultaneously. (In short, visit with adult stepson did not go well.) The mood threatened to last for the rest of my life.
It lifted when I did one useful small thing that made me feel effective. All I did was drive to a Verizon store and say that two phone accessories weren't working right. One they replaced for free; the other for $16 (it hadn't come from Verizon.)
I left with working equipment and rising spirits. Not simply because I had a headset and a recharger that worked. Instead, because I'd demonstrated to myself that I could be effective, even at running a small errand that had no connection with the original problem.
That kind of remedy is always available. Maybe I'll remember it quicker, should I ever fall into such a state again.
Oh, it's good to have a blog to be able to share such wisdom!
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It lifted when I did one useful small thing that made me feel effective. All I did was drive to a Verizon store and say that two phone accessories weren't working right. One they replaced for free; the other for $16 (it hadn't come from Verizon.)
I left with working equipment and rising spirits. Not simply because I had a headset and a recharger that worked. Instead, because I'd demonstrated to myself that I could be effective, even at running a small errand that had no connection with the original problem.
That kind of remedy is always available. Maybe I'll remember it quicker, should I ever fall into such a state again.
Oh, it's good to have a blog to be able to share such wisdom!
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Monday, August 04, 2008
Brilliant Brillante Blogs
This blog has received the Brillante Award. I'm taking that to mean brilliant, and am delighted to be selected.
I'm to pass the honor on to seven other bloggers whom I find sparkling. The following are quite different from each other and all hold my attention:
The Growing Life, "Alternative productivity,anti-hacks for living"
Diva Marketing "An approach to marketing that's fun, bold, and savvy..."
Four Angels Momma: "Learning to soar with our feet on the ground."
Daily Spiritual Guide "Insights for a healthy and positive life."
The Sartorialist "Selected as on of Time magazine's top 100 design influencers."
Metaxu Cafe "A network of book and cultural blogs..."
60 going on 16 Reading and writing in the English countryside
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Saturday, August 02, 2008
Go To the Trouble to Have an Adventure
A few years back I realized that I'm sometimes too lazy to do the little things that would make me more comfortable. Like get out of bed and get a quilt. Or turn on another light, or get a tool I need. Because it's just easier not to stir myself.
At that point I started telling myself: go to the trouble to get comfortable. It's really worth the effort involved.
This week I was driving home from work a little early, it was still light. Passing Jordan Lake, I realized that if I pulled over, I could inflate my kayak, which was in my trunk, and take it for a sunset spin. So what that my work clothes would get wet; they were washable.
So I took the trouble, paddled out on the glassy lake for about a half hour, and came in feeling as if I'd had a week's vacation. It had taken fifteen minutes of effort to get the boat out and pumped up. Well worth the "trouble," even for such a wee adventure. I mean to remind myself of that when I'm feeling like not bothering.
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At that point I started telling myself: go to the trouble to get comfortable. It's really worth the effort involved.
This week I was driving home from work a little early, it was still light. Passing Jordan Lake, I realized that if I pulled over, I could inflate my kayak, which was in my trunk, and take it for a sunset spin. So what that my work clothes would get wet; they were washable.
So I took the trouble, paddled out on the glassy lake for about a half hour, and came in feeling as if I'd had a week's vacation. It had taken fifteen minutes of effort to get the boat out and pumped up. Well worth the "trouble," even for such a wee adventure. I mean to remind myself of that when I'm feeling like not bothering.
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Friday, August 01, 2008
Gandhi in the 'Hood
After almost four years in my downtown Raleigh office, I have discovered that a larger-than-life-size statue of my hero Gandhi stands in a courtyard three blocks from my desk.
Here he is, located behind The Marbles Kids Museum, the model of a man who put his boldness to good use.
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Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Fear and Power
The wickedly funny David Sedaris confided to People magazine recently that he'd been "here" for almost fifty years and was still afraid of everyone and everything.
An earlier People profile had suggested that he'd gotten over his fears. "An anxious child, he found an outlet for his energies in high school theater and art programs. 'I thought he'd be a normal kid eventually,' his father observes. It took a while."
In fact, Sedaris has made a career and a splendid body of work out of his anxious responses to the world. (See him on Letterman on YouTube.) Instead of wasting energy fighting himself, he uses his peculiarities, his fears as rocket fuel.
It's a strategy that came to my mind once in an unexpected way. Years ago, I found that night after night when I meditated, Gandhi would show up in my mind and say, "Play Chinese checkers." He didn't respond to questions about why.
Then one afternoon in my office I was in a terrible mood. Employing one of my standard perk-up devices, I left to wander for a bit in a nearby antiques mall. There I saw hanging on the side of a booth an old Chinese checker board, with all the dents for the marbles. A voice in my head said: "Use the obstacles to get where you're going."
At that point I remembered how the game is played. In order to move your marbles to their destination, you have to have an opponent in front of you to leapfrog over. You have to "use the obstacles to get where you're going."
And that's what Sedaris has so brilliantly done.
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An earlier People profile had suggested that he'd gotten over his fears. "An anxious child, he found an outlet for his energies in high school theater and art programs. 'I thought he'd be a normal kid eventually,' his father observes. It took a while."
In fact, Sedaris has made a career and a splendid body of work out of his anxious responses to the world. (See him on Letterman on YouTube.) Instead of wasting energy fighting himself, he uses his peculiarities, his fears as rocket fuel.
It's a strategy that came to my mind once in an unexpected way. Years ago, I found that night after night when I meditated, Gandhi would show up in my mind and say, "Play Chinese checkers." He didn't respond to questions about why.
Then one afternoon in my office I was in a terrible mood. Employing one of my standard perk-up devices, I left to wander for a bit in a nearby antiques mall. There I saw hanging on the side of a booth an old Chinese checker board, with all the dents for the marbles. A voice in my head said: "Use the obstacles to get where you're going."
At that point I remembered how the game is played. In order to move your marbles to their destination, you have to have an opponent in front of you to leapfrog over. You have to "use the obstacles to get where you're going."
And that's what Sedaris has so brilliantly done.
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Monday, July 28, 2008
Blocking Out the Consequences
"Courage is the ability to block out consequences and do what you think you have to do."
Glenn Fitzpatrick, Esquire general
manager, in an essay on his life with Lou
Gehrig's disease
Gandhi said something similar: forget the fruits of your labors, simply do the work and then step back.
How to step back? Not so easy. But I find that the intention itself takes me a long way toward that goal.
What this all translates to for me is: writing without worrying about whether the piece is going to sell. Curiously, satisfyingly, I find writing that way has turned out more easily saleable work.
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Glenn Fitzpatrick, Esquire general
manager, in an essay on his life with Lou
Gehrig's disease
Gandhi said something similar: forget the fruits of your labors, simply do the work and then step back.
How to step back? Not so easy. But I find that the intention itself takes me a long way toward that goal.
What this all translates to for me is: writing without worrying about whether the piece is going to sell. Curiously, satisfyingly, I find writing that way has turned out more easily saleable work.
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Tough Love
“I used to think that self-care meant taking it easy, pampering myself, and avoiding things when stress hit. Now I know that doing the thing I'm most afraid to do is the best way to take care of myself.”
--Cory Fransway, from Judith Wright's More e-zine
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--Cory Fransway, from Judith Wright's More e-zine
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Saturday, July 26, 2008
Do Something Extra
Last night, for the sheer fun of it, I wrote the most bizarre little item I've ever written (and there's considerable competition in my oeuvre for that honor.) It was a one-pager, a humor piece (my intent, anyway), aimed at the slot that The New Yorker fills with satire and wordplay.
I won't burden you just now with the details of that story. What I want to say is that it was a delight to do. It wasn't like work at all. Not like revising my long-time novel-in-progress, which has its pleasures but is work.
The light free feeling came because this writing was extra, and I had no thoughts weighing on me about whether the piece was going to turn out to be good, or saleable, or both, or neither. Writing it was a loose unweighted walk, after a day of backpacking. Though it took four and a half hours, a substantial amount of time.
The same principle--do a little something extra--works in other arenas than writing. The book I co-authored with Allan Luks, The Healing Power of Doing Good, notes that people dealing with overwhelming job pressures and looming burnout can ease their feelings sometimes by doing some little useful extra that nobody expects or requires of them.
It works because:
*it puts the power back into the hands of the doer
*it's a reminder of how much fun the work (without external pressures) can be
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I won't burden you just now with the details of that story. What I want to say is that it was a delight to do. It wasn't like work at all. Not like revising my long-time novel-in-progress, which has its pleasures but is work.
The light free feeling came because this writing was extra, and I had no thoughts weighing on me about whether the piece was going to turn out to be good, or saleable, or both, or neither. Writing it was a loose unweighted walk, after a day of backpacking. Though it took four and a half hours, a substantial amount of time.
The same principle--do a little something extra--works in other arenas than writing. The book I co-authored with Allan Luks, The Healing Power of Doing Good, notes that people dealing with overwhelming job pressures and looming burnout can ease their feelings sometimes by doing some little useful extra that nobody expects or requires of them.
It works because:
*it puts the power back into the hands of the doer
*it's a reminder of how much fun the work (without external pressures) can be
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Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Creativity Equals Fearlessness?
Once when I was talking about my novel Sister India at a book club, one of the members made a comment about days when she feels creative.
I thought to myself: Feel creative? What's that like?
I take a rather workaday approach to writing: come into office, sit down at computer, write. There's no special feeling involved.
But today, I have to say, I think I felt what she was talking about. Maybe. What I realized was that I had no sense of dread or hesitation about taking on anything. I felt fairly confident I could do it well enough, whatever it was. (We're not talking about curing cancer, instead about writing paragraphs.)
Many days I start in again on a project in spite of a nettlesome grain of doubt, a feel of driving with the brake on. Once I'm working that goes away. Today it wasn't there at all, don't know why. But the absence of it, I have to say, felt creative. I'd like to work that way every day.
What's your experience? Is this kind of hesitation familiar? Do you simply force yourself past it, as I so often do? Or do you sail into your most challenging work with full glee?
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I thought to myself: Feel creative? What's that like?
I take a rather workaday approach to writing: come into office, sit down at computer, write. There's no special feeling involved.
But today, I have to say, I think I felt what she was talking about. Maybe. What I realized was that I had no sense of dread or hesitation about taking on anything. I felt fairly confident I could do it well enough, whatever it was. (We're not talking about curing cancer, instead about writing paragraphs.)
Many days I start in again on a project in spite of a nettlesome grain of doubt, a feel of driving with the brake on. Once I'm working that goes away. Today it wasn't there at all, don't know why. But the absence of it, I have to say, felt creative. I'd like to work that way every day.
What's your experience? Is this kind of hesitation familiar? Do you simply force yourself past it, as I so often do? Or do you sail into your most challenging work with full glee?
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Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Flunking Creativity
The Epstein Creativity Competencies Inventory for Individuals just scored my answers on a 5 minute questionnaire. My score: a pitiable 70%!!! This is well below the level where I'm told I should be concerned.
I lost major points for not keeping a tape recorder by my bed at night, and not changing my work environment very often. (My office partner moves her office doodads and arranges flowers and such almost every morning. Me, I check my e-mail.)
Go take the test and see how you come out. It's at the very least a reminder of useful creativity techniques. (But how could I flunk, when I've never run short of ideas?)
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I lost major points for not keeping a tape recorder by my bed at night, and not changing my work environment very often. (My office partner moves her office doodads and arranges flowers and such almost every morning. Me, I check my e-mail.)
Go take the test and see how you come out. It's at the very least a reminder of useful creativity techniques. (But how could I flunk, when I've never run short of ideas?)
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Monday, July 21, 2008
No-Brainer Time Management
I've discovered another difference between boldness and bad planning.
On Saturday morning I drove 5 hours to work with my brother on his house renovation. Got there in time to do about four hours of work. Spent one night. Worked about four hours again. Need I mention the heat?! Then another five hours on the road going home, feeling good. I'd had a good time and really gotten a fine workout.
Monday. Today. I drove up to my office building, turned the car off, and fell asleep. Woke up an hour later in the same position. My office partner driving up behind me hadn't waked me. Neither had the impressive heat in the closed car.
I pronounced myself rested and went into my office, where I felt mildly crazed the rest of the morning and then took a nap of nearly four hours. Which brings me up to the moment and my present conclusion: nothing is gained by making a three day trip in two days. It's going to require three days anyway, at least if one is over the age of 25.
Planning that uses the Evel Knievel approach--going against natural laws, etc.--is probably not the best way.
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On Saturday morning I drove 5 hours to work with my brother on his house renovation. Got there in time to do about four hours of work. Spent one night. Worked about four hours again. Need I mention the heat?! Then another five hours on the road going home, feeling good. I'd had a good time and really gotten a fine workout.
Monday. Today. I drove up to my office building, turned the car off, and fell asleep. Woke up an hour later in the same position. My office partner driving up behind me hadn't waked me. Neither had the impressive heat in the closed car.
I pronounced myself rested and went into my office, where I felt mildly crazed the rest of the morning and then took a nap of nearly four hours. Which brings me up to the moment and my present conclusion: nothing is gained by making a three day trip in two days. It's going to require three days anyway, at least if one is over the age of 25.
Planning that uses the Evel Knievel approach--going against natural laws, etc.--is probably not the best way.
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Friday, July 18, 2008
Braving Sadness and Sorrow
Recently I was advised to be sad about sad things, that sadness is the root of tenderness. When anger starts to rise, I'm to check and see if the real feeling is sadness.
Well, talk about bold! The idea of voluntarily wandering into that grim and mucky swamp, which is the way I tend to view sadness, is seriously off-putting.
However, thinking of it in combo with tenderness changes the picture. Then its damp-and-wilted-ness begins to seem like aloe healing a burn.
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Well, talk about bold! The idea of voluntarily wandering into that grim and mucky swamp, which is the way I tend to view sadness, is seriously off-putting.
However, thinking of it in combo with tenderness changes the picture. Then its damp-and-wilted-ness begins to seem like aloe healing a burn.
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Thursday, July 17, 2008
How to Brainstorm Better
One of my favorite movie scenes is a hands-on brainstorming session in Apollo 13, when the astronauts have a technical glitch ("Houston, we have a problem") and a team of engineers at homebase is given the precise materials available on board the spacecraft in order to patch together a solution. Fascinating and exciting!
There's also a good brainstorming scene in another Tom Hanks movie about an adman (I forget the title) in which the agency staff play office basketball while they toss around ideas. Thinking as a playful team sport.
Excellent article in Best Life magazine's August issue on how to think in cooperation with others. It sets one thing straight from the start: twice as many ideas are generated by people working solo than by a similar number of groups.
However, it's not uncommon to find ourselves in a group problem-solving situation. I did this sort of thing often in ad agencies back when I was freelancing ad copy, and finally got comfortable and happy with it. (Though my favorite kind of assignment was solo: bill us for x hours and send your list of ideas.)
Here are tips from Susan Welsh's "The Road to Eureka," which she takes from Sam Harrison's book Zing! Five Steps and 101 Tips for Creativity on Command.
*use brainstorming to build on and improve existing ideas, rather than to come up with new ones (I've usually seen the reverse)
*keep the group to a max of 5
*start by spending a few minutes on an unrelated exercise, such as finding ways to solve an imaginary problem
*when ready, encourage wild ideas that are focused on the goal
*people should blurt out their ideas, rather than taking turns talking
*allow no critical response to any idea
*don't go longer than an hour
*schedule a second session to allow ideas to perk
This process of fast blurting turned out to be fun once I got used to it. Sort of like pool volleyball. And getting into the swing of it really helps build the boldness muscles.
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There's also a good brainstorming scene in another Tom Hanks movie about an adman (I forget the title) in which the agency staff play office basketball while they toss around ideas. Thinking as a playful team sport.
Excellent article in Best Life magazine's August issue on how to think in cooperation with others. It sets one thing straight from the start: twice as many ideas are generated by people working solo than by a similar number of groups.
However, it's not uncommon to find ourselves in a group problem-solving situation. I did this sort of thing often in ad agencies back when I was freelancing ad copy, and finally got comfortable and happy with it. (Though my favorite kind of assignment was solo: bill us for x hours and send your list of ideas.)
Here are tips from Susan Welsh's "The Road to Eureka," which she takes from Sam Harrison's book Zing! Five Steps and 101 Tips for Creativity on Command.
*use brainstorming to build on and improve existing ideas, rather than to come up with new ones (I've usually seen the reverse)
*keep the group to a max of 5
*start by spending a few minutes on an unrelated exercise, such as finding ways to solve an imaginary problem
*when ready, encourage wild ideas that are focused on the goal
*people should blurt out their ideas, rather than taking turns talking
*allow no critical response to any idea
*don't go longer than an hour
*schedule a second session to allow ideas to perk
This process of fast blurting turned out to be fun once I got used to it. Sort of like pool volleyball. And getting into the swing of it really helps build the boldness muscles.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Running Behind?
Probably no one feels as "behind" as the writer struggling to get a second novel written and published. Certainly that was true for me; my wrestle with the first and the ongoing business of the third have lacked the dreadful under-the-gun feeling I had before Sister India was released.
In "Success Sucks" U.K. writer Hamish MacFarlane has written a funny and "spot-on" piece about getting over sophomore slump to get going on his second novel.
"...I want to be read. I want people to see my take and say, you’re spot-on about that, and you put it in such a pretty way, too. I know this is true because it’s the opposite of my enduring number one fear of writing, not that I’ll fail to be published but that people will read my work and say, oh you freak, that’s not what the rest of us think at all."
It hasn't been easy for him. It wasn't easy for a lot of us. New kinds of boldness are needed, just when you think you had it made and didn't need all that sort of thing any more.
MacFarlane simply realized that the stories start to form anyway, best to just write them down instead of feeling guilty about not doing it. Plus, he wants to see how the story turns out. This attitude is part of what I think of as distance-runner boldness: endurance.
A note: MacFarlane complains (and you must go read it) about people constantly asking how's that new novel going? That question drove me crazy for a long time before Sister India came out. And then my annoyance faded, don't know how or why.
But I heard a good piece of advice about dealing with it. A woman I know who does strategic planning for movie studios, etc. said: just keep in mind that When's-your-next-one-coming-out? simply means Hello. It's something to say to show friendly interest, not asking you what you got on your report card.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
In "Success Sucks" U.K. writer Hamish MacFarlane has written a funny and "spot-on" piece about getting over sophomore slump to get going on his second novel.
"...I want to be read. I want people to see my take and say, you’re spot-on about that, and you put it in such a pretty way, too. I know this is true because it’s the opposite of my enduring number one fear of writing, not that I’ll fail to be published but that people will read my work and say, oh you freak, that’s not what the rest of us think at all."
It hasn't been easy for him. It wasn't easy for a lot of us. New kinds of boldness are needed, just when you think you had it made and didn't need all that sort of thing any more.
MacFarlane simply realized that the stories start to form anyway, best to just write them down instead of feeling guilty about not doing it. Plus, he wants to see how the story turns out. This attitude is part of what I think of as distance-runner boldness: endurance.
A note: MacFarlane complains (and you must go read it) about people constantly asking how's that new novel going? That question drove me crazy for a long time before Sister India came out. And then my annoyance faded, don't know how or why.
But I heard a good piece of advice about dealing with it. A woman I know who does strategic planning for movie studios, etc. said: just keep in mind that When's-your-next-one-coming-out? simply means Hello. It's something to say to show friendly interest, not asking you what you got on your report card.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Twitching
At the time, she thought her elementary school teacher was Jezebel, my friend said at lunch today. In addition to whatever else K. suspected about her teacher, the woman did one thing that was really, really annoying. She allowed no twitching, no finger drumming. She required that the students sit still.
The very thought makes my nervous mannerisms go into full play. (Now taking off bracelet, flipping it around in circles.)
And what a harsh thing to do to a bunch of kids.
But she was right about the twitching, K. says. It sidetracks energy away from the focus of attention. Sitting completely still allows a more intense focus. That's the idea.
I don't argue with that.
However, for me the twitching, even multi-tasking, helps to keep me from a kind of hyperattentiveness that can be as destructive as neglect. This hyper-focus is also known as trying too hard.
Ideally, I'd get rid of the trying too hard, and then be able to sit still, and then take in third grade math in a blinding flash. (Reach for the stars!) But without the near-continuous leg swinging, toe tapping, finger drumming, doodling and twiddling, I fear I'd gain a hundred pounds. Seriously. Steady movement burns a lot of delicious calories.
Anyway, I may try this stillness experiment--I realize now that my right foot is bouncing. But I'm going to be careful with it. I'd be interested in anyone else's experience with the pros and cons of full focus.
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The very thought makes my nervous mannerisms go into full play. (Now taking off bracelet, flipping it around in circles.)
And what a harsh thing to do to a bunch of kids.
But she was right about the twitching, K. says. It sidetracks energy away from the focus of attention. Sitting completely still allows a more intense focus. That's the idea.
I don't argue with that.
However, for me the twitching, even multi-tasking, helps to keep me from a kind of hyperattentiveness that can be as destructive as neglect. This hyper-focus is also known as trying too hard.
Ideally, I'd get rid of the trying too hard, and then be able to sit still, and then take in third grade math in a blinding flash. (Reach for the stars!) But without the near-continuous leg swinging, toe tapping, finger drumming, doodling and twiddling, I fear I'd gain a hundred pounds. Seriously. Steady movement burns a lot of delicious calories.
Anyway, I may try this stillness experiment--I realize now that my right foot is bouncing. But I'm going to be careful with it. I'd be interested in anyone else's experience with the pros and cons of full focus.
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Saturday, July 12, 2008
Self-Management
This morning I began an experiment with a new system of my own devising.
I think the matter of "managing" one's self well is pretty much central to everything, not just for freelance writers facing totally unstructured time. Seems to me that a personal management policy applies to every decision anyone makes: whether during "work time" to dig into the novel-in-progress or file tax receipts; whether, at lunch, to get the side of slaw or fries; even whether to give money to a particular panhandling homeless guy. None of these are no-brainers.
Here's my new system: I face each decision with two guidelines. 1) What do I feel like doing? 2) What choice would be "doing right by myself?" I don't get into an inner debate, I just bring these two questions into consciousness and then act.
I started this morning. The noticeable changes so far are that I ate a healthy breakfast and lunch. No fast food at all. And no quart of my beloved Mickey D's Sweet Tea, as is my usual custom. I don't feel deprived at all. I have no regimen I have to stick to; if lard feels like the right thing for supper, then that's what I'll have.
This new system is a blend of two I've tried that don't work: do what I want to and do what I ought to. Neither one of these alone takes me to a very good place. "Ought" leads me to fury and rebellious excess. "Want" leads me to leave off exercise, vegetables, meditation almost entirely.
Some months ago, at the start of the New Year, I announced here that I was moving to a new system which I think of as Act Like You've Got Some Sense or Follow the Will of God. This has worked better than others. And this new approach is simply a way of divining "the will of God." And it doesn't require sense of me all the time. It doesn't require anything.
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I think the matter of "managing" one's self well is pretty much central to everything, not just for freelance writers facing totally unstructured time. Seems to me that a personal management policy applies to every decision anyone makes: whether during "work time" to dig into the novel-in-progress or file tax receipts; whether, at lunch, to get the side of slaw or fries; even whether to give money to a particular panhandling homeless guy. None of these are no-brainers.
Here's my new system: I face each decision with two guidelines. 1) What do I feel like doing? 2) What choice would be "doing right by myself?" I don't get into an inner debate, I just bring these two questions into consciousness and then act.
I started this morning. The noticeable changes so far are that I ate a healthy breakfast and lunch. No fast food at all. And no quart of my beloved Mickey D's Sweet Tea, as is my usual custom. I don't feel deprived at all. I have no regimen I have to stick to; if lard feels like the right thing for supper, then that's what I'll have.
This new system is a blend of two I've tried that don't work: do what I want to and do what I ought to. Neither one of these alone takes me to a very good place. "Ought" leads me to fury and rebellious excess. "Want" leads me to leave off exercise, vegetables, meditation almost entirely.
Some months ago, at the start of the New Year, I announced here that I was moving to a new system which I think of as Act Like You've Got Some Sense or Follow the Will of God. This has worked better than others. And this new approach is simply a way of divining "the will of God." And it doesn't require sense of me all the time. It doesn't require anything.
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Thursday, July 10, 2008
On Hating or Not Hating Jesse Helms
In my days as a freelance news reporter, I once shared a car with the late Sen. Jesse Helms and two or three other news people. We rode from one news event to the next in central Raleigh, perhaps a dozen blocks. In that time, the senator was courteous, didn't swear at any of us or try to hog up more than his share of space in the backseat. Getting out at the downtown Holiday Inn, he said a very pleasant thank you for the ride.
A lot of people say they admired the notoriously right-wing and anti-integration senator because he had nice manners and stood by his positions however wrong.
But decent manners and loyalty to injustice are likely qualities of many of the world's worst dictators. His courtesy was not enough to make me admire him. As he swung his long legs around to get out of the car, I could only look at him in morbid fascination, the same way I like to look from a safe distance at snakes and murderers.
The fact that throughout his career he stuck to his dreadful politics--this should make him better somehow? I don't follow the logic.
I'm certainly in favor of forgiveness and have never spent any energy hating Helms. (Though I'm close to finishing a novel about a notorious right-wing racist Southern senator named Billy, who is charming and seductive as well as famously inflexible.)
I do understand friendship and love that transcend politics. I covered the NC legislature for 11 years and care very much about more than one person who has opposed my interests.
So what if I'd worked around Helms regularly, spent more time with him? Would I have been swayed by his personal manner to acting as if his actions and philosophy on race were not so bad?
Ideally, I could like somebody without being moved in the slightest toward supporting their destructive behavior, either in my voting or in my writing. Not easy. Not even easy to monitor in one's self. But it's what we have to aim for, I'm convinced, to actually achieve justice. It won't come from dividing people into categories of good and bad.
I do know I admire anyone who can maintain such a balance of opposing the injustice and still behaving decently to, even drinking coffee with, the unjust. I consider that bold.
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A lot of people say they admired the notoriously right-wing and anti-integration senator because he had nice manners and stood by his positions however wrong.
But decent manners and loyalty to injustice are likely qualities of many of the world's worst dictators. His courtesy was not enough to make me admire him. As he swung his long legs around to get out of the car, I could only look at him in morbid fascination, the same way I like to look from a safe distance at snakes and murderers.
The fact that throughout his career he stuck to his dreadful politics--this should make him better somehow? I don't follow the logic.
I'm certainly in favor of forgiveness and have never spent any energy hating Helms. (Though I'm close to finishing a novel about a notorious right-wing racist Southern senator named Billy, who is charming and seductive as well as famously inflexible.)
I do understand friendship and love that transcend politics. I covered the NC legislature for 11 years and care very much about more than one person who has opposed my interests.
So what if I'd worked around Helms regularly, spent more time with him? Would I have been swayed by his personal manner to acting as if his actions and philosophy on race were not so bad?
Ideally, I could like somebody without being moved in the slightest toward supporting their destructive behavior, either in my voting or in my writing. Not easy. Not even easy to monitor in one's self. But it's what we have to aim for, I'm convinced, to actually achieve justice. It won't come from dividing people into categories of good and bad.
I do know I admire anyone who can maintain such a balance of opposing the injustice and still behaving decently to, even drinking coffee with, the unjust. I consider that bold.
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Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Stormy Lake Adventure
I have an urgent need to tell you my Fourth of July weekend outdoor experience, my small-scale "hero story." Now this episode was not bold, instead mildly stupidly reckless, and yet a fine little adventure with some lasting satisfaction.
Sunday afternoon I felt a strong pull to take my little inflatable Sea Eagle kayak out for a paddle on nearby Jordan Lake. It had been too long, and the sun was shining. Never mind that thunderstorms were predicted.
Once out on the lake, I could see that there was a dark smudge along the treeline on the horizon, but it was only about a foot wide. Intellectually I know that things get larger as they get closer, but I was still sure that with my lightning paddling speed, I'd be able to dodge it. The lake is huge and many-armed; I'd just avoid the weather, if it even traveled in my direction.
I had a particular and exciting goal in mind, finding the mouth of a creek that I regularly drive across a few miles away on my way to work and back. I had a pretty good idea where it would enter the lake.
Well, I'd paddled hard for over an hour, found a beautiful little cove I'd never seen, scared seven great blue herons out of the trees there, cruised along at the edge of a tall thicket of water grass, and still not found the creek mouth, when the rain began to fall. And, in instant, the thunder and lightning were cracking overhead.
I wasn't going to dodge the weather after all, and I was a very long way from anything but heavily forested shore with bits of exposed sand at the edge here and there. Plus, I was using a metal paddle, in the state with the highest number of lightning deaths per year (or so I'm told.)
So I took the paddle apart and used only the plastic blades, one in each hand, and slowly scoop-scooped my way to one of those little strips of sand, just in time. Five seconds after I pulled up onto this sliver of beach, huge wind whipped up and flipped the boat over as a big pelting rain started, and suddenly the lake was all grey surf. The waves were big enough to break and roll, to force water several feet up the strand and under my feet where quickly I'd positioned myself, lying beneath my overturned my boat, holding it down against the force of the wind.
Within moments, I felt cozy under there, a little warmish cave, with hard rain beating down on airfilled compartments overhead and on the sand on either side of me. The sound was like that of a tin roof in a storm, but all within a foot of my face. I could see out from under the edge of the boat and watch the long waves break into white against dark sky.
I'm accustomed to water. I grew up at the beach, living in Wilmington and spending much of my time at Wrightsville, and I continued going along on some surf fishing and deep sea expeditions in my early twenties. And my eldest nephew tried to teach me to surf fairly recently. But it had been thirty years at least since I was so surrounded by the raw edge of the elements. And this time alone, and definitely not in a charter boat.
As soon as I got under the shelter of my dear little boat I found I was immediately deep in trance. I was comfortable in spite of being drenched, and lying half across a broken branch and having one shoulder hanging out in the rain and dealing with some aggressive ants. For most of the hour and a quarter I was under there, I had little sense of the passage of time. I had a feeling of gratitude, for both the shelter and the nature drama, that was almost tangible, like a shawl of warmer air.
I wasn't really worried. The worst likely to happen was that the storm wouldn't let up until late night, and a small embarrassing search for me would begin. Husband Bob wasn't likely to be worried prematurely though; he's not a worrier and has also decided I'm invincible. I hope never to dissuade him.
I didn't want to be rescued, but I did wonder briefly where the bullhorns were. Once, out on this same lake on a sunny afternoon, I was floating in what was essentially a toy boat, an $11 blow-up vessel with plastic paddles that I got at Best Buy. I probably looked pretty ridiculous because the paddles were tiny and the boat not much bigger than an innertube; my legs were stuck up in the air. A huge cruiser chugged up close by, with enough waves to swamp me. From up on the bridge of the boat, a man in some kind of government park service uniform called: "Ma'am, are you all right?" I was just fine. It was a gorgeous day. There was no threat in sight. But on the day when a storm hits and lifts my 30 pound kayak into the air, I saw no crisply nautically uniformed man cruising up alongside. No doubt, he has the sense to stay in on such afternoons.
The rain quit once for about five minutes, then started again, quiet and steady. The thunder gradually became a little more distant. The surf died down. I crept out. I regathered my metal belongings from where I'd tossed them: glasses, earrings, the pole of the double paddle.
I set out on the water again, again using only the blades, one in each hand, one on either side of the boat, to paddle. There was still too much thunder and lightning nearby for me to want to be flashing a metal rod over my head. I don't know that any of my safeguards actually make any difference--I'm going to learn about that before my next storm chase--but I was doing what I could.
It was one damn long dog-paddle before I could even see the paved ramp where I'd left my car. And by the time I got there it was too dark wearing my prescription sunglasses to see anything at all. But the water was deliciously warm, and I found myself talking to it, every few times I dug a blade in, almost as if it were a pet: "nice warm water, such nice water." It felt as delicious as the shawl of air. Good thing: because if I paused in my paddling for a second, I slid backwards fast. The wind was not going my way.
By the time I made it back to the put-in ramp and was onshore deflating The Boat, packing it in the trunk of my car, I was shivering all over, ready for towels and a hot shower and more towels. And I was enjoying a strong sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, in spite of the basic dumbness of the escapade.
This morning, the day after my adventure, I drove across one of the lake bridges coming into town and thought: "My lake." I felt as if we'd spent a night together, this body of water and I. And we very nearly did.
I'd spent afternoons on or beside this lake before, but never so memorably, or to such effect. This trip melted me into the place, and brought back another location where I'd been so connected before.
When I was a kid, I had this kind of lying-in-the-wet-dirt intimacy with my whole neighborhood on Mimosa Place, knew how the grass grew under the drip line of the Lynch's roof, and could draw precise maps of the major branches of a lot of the trees. It's been a long time since I've had that cell-to-cell connection, even though I'm a gardener and love the plot I raggedly cultivate.
I'm glad to rediscover that deep earth-to-human infrastructure, to remember it exists. When it's active it feels like a combo of raw storm energy and puppy affection, born of nothing but intense prolonged close-up attention to the place and dependence on knowing those details. I didn't know I'd missed that feeling. A funny thing to rediscover on an Independence Day weekend.
What I did know, while I was out there, was that I was going to relish telling this story.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Sunday afternoon I felt a strong pull to take my little inflatable Sea Eagle kayak out for a paddle on nearby Jordan Lake. It had been too long, and the sun was shining. Never mind that thunderstorms were predicted.
Once out on the lake, I could see that there was a dark smudge along the treeline on the horizon, but it was only about a foot wide. Intellectually I know that things get larger as they get closer, but I was still sure that with my lightning paddling speed, I'd be able to dodge it. The lake is huge and many-armed; I'd just avoid the weather, if it even traveled in my direction.
I had a particular and exciting goal in mind, finding the mouth of a creek that I regularly drive across a few miles away on my way to work and back. I had a pretty good idea where it would enter the lake.
Well, I'd paddled hard for over an hour, found a beautiful little cove I'd never seen, scared seven great blue herons out of the trees there, cruised along at the edge of a tall thicket of water grass, and still not found the creek mouth, when the rain began to fall. And, in instant, the thunder and lightning were cracking overhead.
I wasn't going to dodge the weather after all, and I was a very long way from anything but heavily forested shore with bits of exposed sand at the edge here and there. Plus, I was using a metal paddle, in the state with the highest number of lightning deaths per year (or so I'm told.)
So I took the paddle apart and used only the plastic blades, one in each hand, and slowly scoop-scooped my way to one of those little strips of sand, just in time. Five seconds after I pulled up onto this sliver of beach, huge wind whipped up and flipped the boat over as a big pelting rain started, and suddenly the lake was all grey surf. The waves were big enough to break and roll, to force water several feet up the strand and under my feet where quickly I'd positioned myself, lying beneath my overturned my boat, holding it down against the force of the wind.
Within moments, I felt cozy under there, a little warmish cave, with hard rain beating down on airfilled compartments overhead and on the sand on either side of me. The sound was like that of a tin roof in a storm, but all within a foot of my face. I could see out from under the edge of the boat and watch the long waves break into white against dark sky.
I'm accustomed to water. I grew up at the beach, living in Wilmington and spending much of my time at Wrightsville, and I continued going along on some surf fishing and deep sea expeditions in my early twenties. And my eldest nephew tried to teach me to surf fairly recently. But it had been thirty years at least since I was so surrounded by the raw edge of the elements. And this time alone, and definitely not in a charter boat.
As soon as I got under the shelter of my dear little boat I found I was immediately deep in trance. I was comfortable in spite of being drenched, and lying half across a broken branch and having one shoulder hanging out in the rain and dealing with some aggressive ants. For most of the hour and a quarter I was under there, I had little sense of the passage of time. I had a feeling of gratitude, for both the shelter and the nature drama, that was almost tangible, like a shawl of warmer air.
I wasn't really worried. The worst likely to happen was that the storm wouldn't let up until late night, and a small embarrassing search for me would begin. Husband Bob wasn't likely to be worried prematurely though; he's not a worrier and has also decided I'm invincible. I hope never to dissuade him.
I didn't want to be rescued, but I did wonder briefly where the bullhorns were. Once, out on this same lake on a sunny afternoon, I was floating in what was essentially a toy boat, an $11 blow-up vessel with plastic paddles that I got at Best Buy. I probably looked pretty ridiculous because the paddles were tiny and the boat not much bigger than an innertube; my legs were stuck up in the air. A huge cruiser chugged up close by, with enough waves to swamp me. From up on the bridge of the boat, a man in some kind of government park service uniform called: "Ma'am, are you all right?" I was just fine. It was a gorgeous day. There was no threat in sight. But on the day when a storm hits and lifts my 30 pound kayak into the air, I saw no crisply nautically uniformed man cruising up alongside. No doubt, he has the sense to stay in on such afternoons.
The rain quit once for about five minutes, then started again, quiet and steady. The thunder gradually became a little more distant. The surf died down. I crept out. I regathered my metal belongings from where I'd tossed them: glasses, earrings, the pole of the double paddle.
I set out on the water again, again using only the blades, one in each hand, one on either side of the boat, to paddle. There was still too much thunder and lightning nearby for me to want to be flashing a metal rod over my head. I don't know that any of my safeguards actually make any difference--I'm going to learn about that before my next storm chase--but I was doing what I could.
It was one damn long dog-paddle before I could even see the paved ramp where I'd left my car. And by the time I got there it was too dark wearing my prescription sunglasses to see anything at all. But the water was deliciously warm, and I found myself talking to it, every few times I dug a blade in, almost as if it were a pet: "nice warm water, such nice water." It felt as delicious as the shawl of air. Good thing: because if I paused in my paddling for a second, I slid backwards fast. The wind was not going my way.
By the time I made it back to the put-in ramp and was onshore deflating The Boat, packing it in the trunk of my car, I was shivering all over, ready for towels and a hot shower and more towels. And I was enjoying a strong sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, in spite of the basic dumbness of the escapade.
This morning, the day after my adventure, I drove across one of the lake bridges coming into town and thought: "My lake." I felt as if we'd spent a night together, this body of water and I. And we very nearly did.
I'd spent afternoons on or beside this lake before, but never so memorably, or to such effect. This trip melted me into the place, and brought back another location where I'd been so connected before.
When I was a kid, I had this kind of lying-in-the-wet-dirt intimacy with my whole neighborhood on Mimosa Place, knew how the grass grew under the drip line of the Lynch's roof, and could draw precise maps of the major branches of a lot of the trees. It's been a long time since I've had that cell-to-cell connection, even though I'm a gardener and love the plot I raggedly cultivate.
I'm glad to rediscover that deep earth-to-human infrastructure, to remember it exists. When it's active it feels like a combo of raw storm energy and puppy affection, born of nothing but intense prolonged close-up attention to the place and dependence on knowing those details. I didn't know I'd missed that feeling. A funny thing to rediscover on an Independence Day weekend.
What I did know, while I was out there, was that I was going to relish telling this story.
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Friday, July 04, 2008
Happy Boldness Day
For people of the USA, there's never a better day than the 4th of July to make a significant and positive bold move. If you do make one, be sure to report it here. It will inspire all.
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Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Two Free Tickets to a Bold Performance
To the first person to comment here who can plan to attend, I'm giving two tickets to this Saturday's Raleigh performance by the Brussels Chamber Orchestra.
It's the American premier of this group and they are hot; their second American performance, to be held in the Hamptons next week, just got a nice calendar notice in The New Yorker.
Setting up the Raleigh appearance is the very bold project of my office partner Carrie Knowles, whose 26 year-old son Neil Leiter plays with the group. She single-handedly turned the news that the group was coming to New York into the creation of an annual international classical music festival for Raleigh. A successful visual artist, gallery owner, and author, she says its the largest project she has undertaken, and that is saying a lot.
If you want to buy tickets ($15), call 919 757-9279. The performance is Saturday, July 5, at Raleigh's AJ Fletcher Auditorium. The musicians, eleven young talents from six countries, will come out front and meet the audience at the close of the program.
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It's the American premier of this group and they are hot; their second American performance, to be held in the Hamptons next week, just got a nice calendar notice in The New Yorker.
Setting up the Raleigh appearance is the very bold project of my office partner Carrie Knowles, whose 26 year-old son Neil Leiter plays with the group. She single-handedly turned the news that the group was coming to New York into the creation of an annual international classical music festival for Raleigh. A successful visual artist, gallery owner, and author, she says its the largest project she has undertaken, and that is saying a lot.
If you want to buy tickets ($15), call 919 757-9279. The performance is Saturday, July 5, at Raleigh's AJ Fletcher Auditorium. The musicians, eleven young talents from six countries, will come out front and meet the audience at the close of the program.
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Monday, June 30, 2008
The Fear of Separation
I recently finished watching the full six years of The Sopranos TV series a couple of weeks ago, in sequence in my living room on Netflix DVDs. Through the last weeks with the famous "Mafia" family, I had come to dread the inevitable end of the disks, so great was my attachment to these people.
I even did that dumb thing that people do--that I thought I'd never do--when someone close is dying. I started to withdraw in advance, in order to ward off the full impact of the blow.
I was surprised at myself. If there ever an example of "cowards die a thousand times before their deaths, the brave but once" or whatever that quote is*, this was it. And provoked by nothing more serious than the loss of fictional characters I can always rent again.
Ideally, one stays involved full-tilt to the end, even with fictional people. At least that's what I think. That strikes me as the boldest and most satisfying approach. No numbing out, no missing of the final intensity. That's what I mean to do should I ever face another such loss.
But I can't even imagine it. I agree with New Yorker editor David Remnick: The Sopranos were the best thing that ever hit TV. I also think the show was the best characterization I've ever seen on film. I'm pleased that this particular piece of art unfurled in my lifeime.
Surely that deserves full engagement.
I'm doing one thing right in this process though. I thought about immediately starting to rent The Wire or My So-Called Life or some other series. But I'm not yet ready for another relationship. First I need time.
*
Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.
from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar
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My Beaded Fish: A Writer's Cross-Training
Last week, during my stay-home-and-clean-up-the-house vacation, I finished this little craft project that I'd let sit for about two years.
Because of popular demand (one request, thank you, Mamie) I'm displaying it here. I mean for it to go outdoors, hanging from a tree near our little "farm" pond. But I hung it up overnight in front of the curtains in the den, and decided for the moment that I like it there.
She's a quarter of an inch shy of three feet long. This kind of goofy free-hand playful handiwork does a lot for loosening up my creative juices for writing. It's very helpful to me to switch gears so radically: to place little physical widgens of color rather than words.
And to not have to meet any standards of quality or of market limitations. Very freeing. It's also nice to literally tie up some loose threads.
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Because of popular demand (one request, thank you, Mamie) I'm displaying it here. I mean for it to go outdoors, hanging from a tree near our little "farm" pond. But I hung it up overnight in front of the curtains in the den, and decided for the moment that I like it there.
She's a quarter of an inch shy of three feet long. This kind of goofy free-hand playful handiwork does a lot for loosening up my creative juices for writing. It's very helpful to me to switch gears so radically: to place little physical widgens of color rather than words.
And to not have to meet any standards of quality or of market limitations. Very freeing. It's also nice to literally tie up some loose threads.
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Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Day Five: Clean and Organize
Many emotional stages to this process: last night I felt my efforts at helping Bob clean out his junk room weren't being properly appreciated. I had a talk with Gandhi who reminded me that we need to refrain from focusing on the fruits of our labors; "do the work and then step back."
Also had a talk with Bob; there were points on both sides. Today I'm feeling much more appreciated.
I feel I know Bob a bit better, from seeing the things he has saved for twenty, forty, sixty years. It's rather moving to me.
And then I come back to earlier bits of my life in the process too. Had to pause for a while over a 1969 Yackety Yack (UNC yearbook, for the non-North Carolinian.) Even though I'm a Dukie, that was pretty stirring.
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Also had a talk with Bob; there were points on both sides. Today I'm feeling much more appreciated.
I feel I know Bob a bit better, from seeing the things he has saved for twenty, forty, sixty years. It's rather moving to me.
And then I come back to earlier bits of my life in the process too. Had to pause for a while over a 1969 Yackety Yack (UNC yearbook, for the non-North Carolinian.) Even though I'm a Dukie, that was pretty stirring.
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Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Day Four: Clean and Organize
Hoo boy. We have taken on something large here. Yesterday morning Bob and I started on his "junk room," which is also the kennel location of his 125 pound serious-shedder of a dog. This morning Bob likened the process to remodeling; it tears up everything and leaves it a mess for a long time.
It's satisfying though. We're making progress.
And I'm also doing smaller projects that are actually finishable: the bathroom drawer, the upstairs chatchke bowl, and a more inventive little undertaking: sewing corner extenders onto the sheets so that they don't come untucked.
I started that last one because I have a larger sewing project in mind that I don't want to do by hand as I usually do these things. So Sunday I bought one of those little $15 hand-held battery sewing machines at Target and I'm trying to learn how to use it. Haven't quite got the hang of it yet. It feels like a cross between a stapler and a hamster.
This is all so grounding, this real-world nonverbal stuff. I say that somewhat ironically, but it's true.
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It's satisfying though. We're making progress.
And I'm also doing smaller projects that are actually finishable: the bathroom drawer, the upstairs chatchke bowl, and a more inventive little undertaking: sewing corner extenders onto the sheets so that they don't come untucked.
I started that last one because I have a larger sewing project in mind that I don't want to do by hand as I usually do these things. So Sunday I bought one of those little $15 hand-held battery sewing machines at Target and I'm trying to learn how to use it. Haven't quite got the hang of it yet. It feels like a cross between a stapler and a hamster.
This is all so grounding, this real-world nonverbal stuff. I say that somewhat ironically, but it's true.
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Sunday, June 22, 2008
Day One: Clean and Reorganize
Since I last blogged, I finished beading a two-foot image of a fish and did all of the pile of mending for Bob and me (3 prs. pants, 2 shirts, a scarf, a vest, and a gardening glove). The pile was mainly winter clothes. Oh well; they're ready for next year.
Cleaning and reorganizing mean different things to different people, obviously. I'm very happy with this progress.
Tomorrow I will hang the beaded fish art from a tree near our pond. This particular project has been lying around my house unfinished for about two years. What a relief and delight to get it out of the house and up a tree!! It had become one of those things that coaches and feng shui people refer to as an "energy drain." (See Cheryl Richardson's Take Time for Your Life.) Getting rid of those is a major point of this cleaning week for me.
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Cleaning and reorganizing mean different things to different people, obviously. I'm very happy with this progress.
Tomorrow I will hang the beaded fish art from a tree near our pond. This particular project has been lying around my house unfinished for about two years. What a relief and delight to get it out of the house and up a tree!! It had become one of those things that coaches and feng shui people refer to as an "energy drain." (See Cheryl Richardson's Take Time for Your Life.) Getting rid of those is a major point of this cleaning week for me.
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Saturday, June 21, 2008
A House Cleaning Vacation Plan
This coming week, my husband Bob and I are staying home to clean up. We had this "vacation" planned before I stayed home last week being sick, but I've rallied in time to pitch in; though I may forget what my office looks like in the meantime.
The work-at-the-house week doesn't officially start until Monday when we'd normally go to offices. But I thought I might get a running start this weekend.
Well, not yet, as it turns out. It's 4:08 pm. Saturday and I've not yet done a dab of the planned neatening.
But I'm excited about this. My plan is not to create some ideal of order (fat chance) but to make the kind of changes that actually make life better. If I discovered that this worked, there could be a revolution.
Anyway, this effort is for me pretty damn bold.
I'll keep you up on progress.
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The work-at-the-house week doesn't officially start until Monday when we'd normally go to offices. But I thought I might get a running start this weekend.
Well, not yet, as it turns out. It's 4:08 pm. Saturday and I've not yet done a dab of the planned neatening.
But I'm excited about this. My plan is not to create some ideal of order (fat chance) but to make the kind of changes that actually make life better. If I discovered that this worked, there could be a revolution.
Anyway, this effort is for me pretty damn bold.
I'll keep you up on progress.
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Friday, June 20, 2008
Clay Collins: Creative Freedom
I just stumbled across a blog on a kindred subject: The Growing Life, about the blogger's creation of a life and career outside of corporate institutions.
"One of the great tragedies of human existence is that so many of us toil for another person, who is in turn toiling for someone else, who is working for someone else’s interest. And on and on. There are entire corporate chains of command comprised of people working for someone else’s interest rather than their own. In far too many cases, there is no there, there."
I feel much the same way about large organizations, and not only from the point of view of what it's like to work there. My objection is: it's too hard to locate the conscience in an organization where the final deciders are the amorphous stockholders, presumed to be interested in profit by any means.
So there's much I agree with this blogger Clay Collins, who describes himself as "a trafficker of ideas, an outdoorsman, a proponent of human rights, a creative visualizer, and a believer in a better world."
There's one idea, though, which crops up here and there in the posts and comments on this highly popular blog, that drives me crazy. Irritates me enormously. And that is: a trace of feeling superior to those who work day jobs for salaries, etc. Examples:
*"At a very young age, I somehow knew that the schooling process was bullshit."
*"It's the dilettantes that really get to grow."
*"The paradox of intelligence (POI) says that in general, the more intelligent you are, the less brainpower you’re likely to keep for yourself."
*"Who’s winning the battle for your mind?"
My stance is that I do my thing and people who are doing something else no doubt have their reasons. No doubt I'm inclined toward righteousness or I wouldn't be so easily irked by it.
Anyway, I very much like, on the whole, the way this guy thinks. I save my wee smackdowns for the people who are almost meeting my impossible standards. (I often niggle about how Bill Moyers presents something; never give a thought to Rush Limbaugh.)
So do go visit this site. Because there's a lot of damn-right good stuff: "Once external factors no longer tie us down, it becomes easy to become our own tyrant bosses... We make what seem to be incredible sacrifices to remove ourselves from restrictive conventional situations, and damn it, after all that sacrifice, it better result in something breathtakingly amazing. So we start setting unrealistic and ego-driven goals (as opposed to the unreasonable authentic goals that bring us alive and cause us to wreak havoc on the world in beautiful ways)."
Now I'm off to wreak some havoc.
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"One of the great tragedies of human existence is that so many of us toil for another person, who is in turn toiling for someone else, who is working for someone else’s interest. And on and on. There are entire corporate chains of command comprised of people working for someone else’s interest rather than their own. In far too many cases, there is no there, there."
I feel much the same way about large organizations, and not only from the point of view of what it's like to work there. My objection is: it's too hard to locate the conscience in an organization where the final deciders are the amorphous stockholders, presumed to be interested in profit by any means.
So there's much I agree with this blogger Clay Collins, who describes himself as "a trafficker of ideas, an outdoorsman, a proponent of human rights, a creative visualizer, and a believer in a better world."
There's one idea, though, which crops up here and there in the posts and comments on this highly popular blog, that drives me crazy. Irritates me enormously. And that is: a trace of feeling superior to those who work day jobs for salaries, etc. Examples:
*"At a very young age, I somehow knew that the schooling process was bullshit."
*"It's the dilettantes that really get to grow."
*"The paradox of intelligence (POI) says that in general, the more intelligent you are, the less brainpower you’re likely to keep for yourself."
*"Who’s winning the battle for your mind?"
My stance is that I do my thing and people who are doing something else no doubt have their reasons. No doubt I'm inclined toward righteousness or I wouldn't be so easily irked by it.
Anyway, I very much like, on the whole, the way this guy thinks. I save my wee smackdowns for the people who are almost meeting my impossible standards. (I often niggle about how Bill Moyers presents something; never give a thought to Rush Limbaugh.)
So do go visit this site. Because there's a lot of damn-right good stuff: "Once external factors no longer tie us down, it becomes easy to become our own tyrant bosses... We make what seem to be incredible sacrifices to remove ourselves from restrictive conventional situations, and damn it, after all that sacrifice, it better result in something breathtakingly amazing. So we start setting unrealistic and ego-driven goals (as opposed to the unreasonable authentic goals that bring us alive and cause us to wreak havoc on the world in beautiful ways)."
Now I'm off to wreak some havoc.
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Thursday, June 19, 2008
The Five Things We Cannot Change...
I just started reading a book from my stack(s) that my hand felt magnetically drawn to. The title: The Five Things We Cannot Change...and the Happiness We Find By Embracing Them. The author: David Richo.
I hadn't even reached the discussion of the First Thing before the book had reminded me very memorably that: the difficulties we each encounter are our chances to learn, expand, and shine.
I've always had a feeling that any problem I encountered was likely caused by my own bad planning. No matter how improbable it might seem, somehow it was a bad decision I made that caused trouble.
I don't know how exactly this book dissuaded me of that. But for the moment at least it has.
If you're burdened with hyperresponsibility, you might find it worth having a look at.
Personal health update: still recovering, sleeping about 12 or so hours a day, and feeling amazingly serene.
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I hadn't even reached the discussion of the First Thing before the book had reminded me very memorably that: the difficulties we each encounter are our chances to learn, expand, and shine.
I've always had a feeling that any problem I encountered was likely caused by my own bad planning. No matter how improbable it might seem, somehow it was a bad decision I made that caused trouble.
I don't know how exactly this book dissuaded me of that. But for the moment at least it has.
If you're burdened with hyperresponsibility, you might find it worth having a look at.
Personal health update: still recovering, sleeping about 12 or so hours a day, and feeling amazingly serene.
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Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Eleanor Roosevelt
Rarely has anyone so bold emerged from such a timid beginning.
Last night a 2.5 hour documentary on Eleanor Roosevelt aired on my local PBS station. I hadn't planned on watching, though I knew it was scheduled. I told myself I already knew that story.
I happened onto it by accident, though, turning on the TV just as the program was starting. I was fascinated through the very end. And not so much by any new facts I learned, instead by watching this woman transform.
She moved from dreadful shyness to become the most powerful woman in the world. And it didn't happen in a smooth easy sweep. Nor did she transform herself into a different sort of person. Instead, she took herself, as she was, out into the world and kept doing the best she could: for human rights and equality and the easing of poverty. The effects of her work continue. So does her example, made more powerful by the fact that it was never easy.
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Last night a 2.5 hour documentary on Eleanor Roosevelt aired on my local PBS station. I hadn't planned on watching, though I knew it was scheduled. I told myself I already knew that story.
I happened onto it by accident, though, turning on the TV just as the program was starting. I was fascinated through the very end. And not so much by any new facts I learned, instead by watching this woman transform.
She moved from dreadful shyness to become the most powerful woman in the world. And it didn't happen in a smooth easy sweep. Nor did she transform herself into a different sort of person. Instead, she took herself, as she was, out into the world and kept doing the best she could: for human rights and equality and the easing of poverty. The effects of her work continue. So does her example, made more powerful by the fact that it was never easy.
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Monday, June 16, 2008
Healing Quotes
Advice from our wise commenters on healing boldly:
From Mojo:
"Take your time..."
From Billie:
"...When we get sick like this it's a direct message to take time for our 'selves'; and slow down our pace."
Debra W:
"Part of living boldly is knowing when to just say no to everything else, so that we can give ourselves the time that we need in order to heal. It is very important to learn when that time comes. We must become bold enough to become our own advocates."
Thanks to all.
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From Mojo:
"Take your time..."
From Billie:
"...When we get sick like this it's a direct message to take time for our 'selves'; and slow down our pace."
Debra W:
"Part of living boldly is knowing when to just say no to everything else, so that we can give ourselves the time that we need in order to heal. It is very important to learn when that time comes. We must become bold enough to become our own advocates."
Thanks to all.
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Saturday, June 14, 2008
Pneumonia Lungs
The bug I was thinking of as sniffles turned out to be pneumonia. As the germ turns!! It was certainly a surprise to me. I tend to downplay any health problem, because I've never had one to amount to anything.
But other people kept telling me that this situation was not looking good and I finally went to a doc. One person had actually refused to do business with me, said we'll talk another day.
I'm a great believer in optimism. But there's also some value in not jauntily walking off a cliff I'd refused to recognize.
So, with a few days of sleep behind me, now I start creeping back, a little at the time. Then picking up speed, if history is any indicator.
More later on combining sickness and boldness in a useful and nondestructive way.
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But other people kept telling me that this situation was not looking good and I finally went to a doc. One person had actually refused to do business with me, said we'll talk another day.
I'm a great believer in optimism. But there's also some value in not jauntily walking off a cliff I'd refused to recognize.
So, with a few days of sleep behind me, now I start creeping back, a little at the time. Then picking up speed, if history is any indicator.
More later on combining sickness and boldness in a useful and nondestructive way.
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Monday, June 09, 2008
Expecting to Recover Soon
Got a bug. Can't talk now. Back soon.
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Friday, June 06, 2008
The Last Lecture
If you haven't seen this already, go to Youtube and listen to Professor Randy Pausch's last lecture--on how to live--which he gives knowing he has pancreatic cancer and has been given a life expectancy of two to four months.
I had a sore throat the day I saw it, and was moving kinda slowly. The video of this gutsy, charmingly immodest, athletic, gorgeous, smart, and nice 47 year-old facing death didn't take away the slight under-the-weather feeling I had.
But it did remind me that, with the right spirit, it's possible to face anything with courage, joy, boldness, generosity, gratitude, and style.
One delightful piece of news: he has already outlived by months the prognosis. At least as inspiring as the video is his online update of his progress.
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I had a sore throat the day I saw it, and was moving kinda slowly. The video of this gutsy, charmingly immodest, athletic, gorgeous, smart, and nice 47 year-old facing death didn't take away the slight under-the-weather feeling I had.
But it did remind me that, with the right spirit, it's possible to face anything with courage, joy, boldness, generosity, gratitude, and style.
One delightful piece of news: he has already outlived by months the prognosis. At least as inspiring as the video is his online update of his progress.
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Another Technology Success
Yesterday I carried on here about my bold move in managing to send a photo from my camera to my blog.
Riding the swell of confidence and accomplishment from that, I took on a biggie: I learned to make my own letterhead envelopes on my own printer. Not without difficulty, as you can see from this off-the-mark attempt at a return address. (By the time I'd gotten to this point, I was almost home free.)
But having persisted and struggled and whined, I now have some very artful and personal envelopes. And the immense satisfaction of having again ventured successfully into the storm-tossed surf of electronics. Little victories do add gas to one's tank.
Do remember to give yourself credit, even if it feels a little silly.
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Thursday, June 05, 2008
Daily Courage
This strange structure--a water tower, I think--is about 12 stories high. And there's someone walking around on its sloping upper surface, adjusting those wires that hang down.
That guy has a job that takes daily courage. Maybe he's used to it. But I can't believe he doesn't get a stomach wobble now and then.
I pulled my car in beneath this tower yesterday, while in the process of correcting a wrong turn I'd made on the way to a printer's. My own small act of courage was to to, for the first time, shoot and send by phone a picture to my computer for this blog. There are people who are used to phoning in photos too, millions of them. But new tech tasks still give me a stomach wobble in the form of dread and irritation.
The daily courage requirement is different for each of us. An undertaking that feels like nothing for one person takes guts and boldness for another.
It's important to give ourselves credit for our own bold moves, and not compare them to walking on water towers.
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Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Orchestrating a Major Bold Move
My friend and office partner Carrie Knowles decided recently to create in her spare time an annual international music festival in the Raleigh area. Not that she was lacking for things to do: she's a writer and visual artist and mother of teenager.
It began thusly: Her oldest son Neil Leiter, 26, plays viola in the Brussels Chamber Orchestra which was already scheduled to come to the U.S. and play in the Bard Music Festival of the Hamptons. Since they were going to be only 500 or so miles away, it seemed a no-brainer to arrange a few concerts in North Carolina and turn it into an annual event.
Whoo-boy!
Well, a few weeks into the project it looks large and it's definitely happening.
There's plenty still to arrange, but the orchestra from Belgium will play two concerts in the Raleigh area and the Star-Spangled Banner at a Durham Bulls baseball game.
I'm wowed. And here's my point that we can all keep in mind: set the wheels of something big in motion and it's highly likely that it's going to happen. Because once you've got hosts for the musicians, restaurant meals set up, a new nonprofit in the works, a couple of concert venues and a fundraising art auction scheduled, then there's no turning back. Even if the details start to seem overwhelming.
Ten years from now Raleigh will probably be a major international classical music venue. And it will be because one woman had the idea and then got busy on the phone.
NC concerts are July 5 in Raleigh, July 6 in Cary, and July 2 for the national anthem at the Durham Athletic Park. For more info about the North Carolina appearances, contact Carrie Knowles at cjknowles@earthlink.net.
(Neil is the tall blonde guy in the back.)
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Garden Wisdom
My eccentric garden benefits from some of my husband's bold and imaginative ideas. This owl and another totem pole he used for years as posts for a badminton court. When joint troubles ended badminton, he got them moved into the plot that I devotedly cultivate. They're ever a mysterious surprise when I notice them again . I'm glad I didn't marry the kind of guy who would use a couple of aluminum poles to hold up a badminton net.
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Monday, June 02, 2008
A Month of Daily Writing
Brava to Yvonne of NYC who has initiated a 30 day writing plan.
"...My fear of not ever writing anything is finally starting to outweigh my fear of writing and failing at it. And second, while I am pretty content with everything in my life right now--I often go to bed with this emptiness inside of me, this void that something is missing. And I think it's about creating something that makes my life more meaningful than just going to work and paying the bills and lifting dumbbells at the gym."
Yvonne, we're cheering you on.
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"...My fear of not ever writing anything is finally starting to outweigh my fear of writing and failing at it. And second, while I am pretty content with everything in my life right now--I often go to bed with this emptiness inside of me, this void that something is missing. And I think it's about creating something that makes my life more meaningful than just going to work and paying the bills and lifting dumbbells at the gym."
Yvonne, we're cheering you on.
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Sunday, June 01, 2008
Eccentric Gardens
I love funky gardens and think they're such a fine form of art and self-expression.
My own garden is a bit peculiar. And the current issue of Domino Magazine ("The Guide To Living With Style") reminded me of the pleasures of other people's odd plots.
Have a look at Tony Duquette's and Madame Ganna Walska's Lotusland and Robert Kourik's.
Or simply Google "eccentric gardens." There are photo books on the subject, and visitable gardens, and then there's the DIY combo of plants and objects that only you can create.
You can create a living green fantasyland in a container if that's all the dirt that's handy.
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My own garden is a bit peculiar. And the current issue of Domino Magazine ("The Guide To Living With Style") reminded me of the pleasures of other people's odd plots.
Have a look at Tony Duquette's and Madame Ganna Walska's Lotusland and Robert Kourik's.
Or simply Google "eccentric gardens." There are photo books on the subject, and visitable gardens, and then there's the DIY combo of plants and objects that only you can create.
You can create a living green fantasyland in a container if that's all the dirt that's handy.
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Friday, May 30, 2008
Four Minutes to Write This
I forgot to bring my laptop from home to my office today, and my husband has my car. So I walked to the library some distance away to do this, and my time is running out after checking my email.
But here's my point: I worked on two projects today, WRITING IN HANDWRITING. Got to some good stuff. I think the change did me good. Sort of like that fellow who took his laptop to the produce dept.
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But here's my point: I worked on two projects today, WRITING IN HANDWRITING. Got to some good stuff. I think the change did me good. Sort of like that fellow who took his laptop to the produce dept.
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Thursday, May 29, 2008
Pretend You're Blogging
"In the words of renowned writing instructor William Zinsser: 'Any invention that eliminates the fear of writing is up there with air conditioning and the light bulb.'"
From an article in the Ottawa Citizen on e-mail and texting.
One way to deal with hitting a wobbly moment writing is to pretend I'm simply writing an e-mail. Or a blog post, which almost always seems to fly straight from unformed thought to screen, without hesitation at all.
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From an article in the Ottawa Citizen on e-mail and texting.
One way to deal with hitting a wobbly moment writing is to pretend I'm simply writing an e-mail. Or a blog post, which almost always seems to fly straight from unformed thought to screen, without hesitation at all.
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Wednesday, May 28, 2008
"Hello, My Name Is Scott"
I'd intended to focus here on a cool post I ran across called "4 Ways to Motivate Your Melon". The guy who wrote it, Scott Ginsberg, had hit a wall trying to write it, so he implemented one of his own techniques for getting the juices flowing. He moved his writing location to the produce department of a local grocery store. The change did the trick. The resulting piece is entertaining and useful.
Then I googled Scott and found an even better story. This man wears a nametag full-time. The first of his several books is Hello, My Name Is Scott: Wearing Nametags for a Friendlier Society.
This man is bold.
I've said to friends so many times after leaving parties or other crowd scenes: I wish we all wore nametags all the time.
But did I start wearing a nametag myself in order to set the trend in motion? I didn't even think of it.
Scott Ginsberg did. He'd left a nametag on after an event and discovered that lots of people spoke to him and started conversations with him. So he kept on wearing it. Now he even has a nametag tattooed onto his chest.
A nametag? It takes guts to seem that dorky. I'm still not quite up to it. But I'm going to get his books, including The Power of Approachability, Make a Name for Yourself, etc.
Hello, My Name Is Peggy. Just trying out the idea.
Maybe I'll get a rhinestone cursive Peggy.
I dare you to put on your own nametag for a day and let us know what happens.
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Then I googled Scott and found an even better story. This man wears a nametag full-time. The first of his several books is Hello, My Name Is Scott: Wearing Nametags for a Friendlier Society.
This man is bold.
I've said to friends so many times after leaving parties or other crowd scenes: I wish we all wore nametags all the time.
But did I start wearing a nametag myself in order to set the trend in motion? I didn't even think of it.
Scott Ginsberg did. He'd left a nametag on after an event and discovered that lots of people spoke to him and started conversations with him. So he kept on wearing it. Now he even has a nametag tattooed onto his chest.
A nametag? It takes guts to seem that dorky. I'm still not quite up to it. But I'm going to get his books, including The Power of Approachability, Make a Name for Yourself, etc.
Hello, My Name Is Peggy. Just trying out the idea.
Maybe I'll get a rhinestone cursive Peggy.
I dare you to put on your own nametag for a day and let us know what happens.
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Tuesday, May 27, 2008
In Lazy Memory of Bold Soldiers
So I boldly took the long weekend of Memorial Day off. And didn't even blog. That's a serious matter, like not checking e-mail, which I didn't do either.
It was startlingly easy, for one who is prone to overwork a bit and delay vacation time. I've often found that to be true with making leaps, both small and large. Once I get started, I'm puzzled why I ever hesitated.
Anyway, I did a bit of gardening for three days in a row, the last weekend that in my area that can be relied upon not to swelter.
And I took my little inflatable kayak over to nearby Jordan Lake and paddled for an hour, saw a couple of herons at water's edge. Circled a small island that during last summer's drought was attached to the shore by a long ribbon of sand.
And read. And did laundry. And hung out with my husband and a friend. And saw a movie. And ate at the admirable Watts Grocery in Durham.
When I showed up at my office building this morning, one of the upstairs tenants said, "You look rested." And I got a whole lot of work done today.
So, no downsides to this particular wee variation in the usual. When such small changes can take a booster rocket of energy to bring about, it's hard to imagine the kind of steady boldness required of the soldiers we memorialized this holiday weekend.
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It was startlingly easy, for one who is prone to overwork a bit and delay vacation time. I've often found that to be true with making leaps, both small and large. Once I get started, I'm puzzled why I ever hesitated.
Anyway, I did a bit of gardening for three days in a row, the last weekend that in my area that can be relied upon not to swelter.
And I took my little inflatable kayak over to nearby Jordan Lake and paddled for an hour, saw a couple of herons at water's edge. Circled a small island that during last summer's drought was attached to the shore by a long ribbon of sand.
And read. And did laundry. And hung out with my husband and a friend. And saw a movie. And ate at the admirable Watts Grocery in Durham.
When I showed up at my office building this morning, one of the upstairs tenants said, "You look rested." And I got a whole lot of work done today.
So, no downsides to this particular wee variation in the usual. When such small changes can take a booster rocket of energy to bring about, it's hard to imagine the kind of steady boldness required of the soldiers we memorialized this holiday weekend.
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Friday, May 23, 2008
The Daffodil Principle in Action
Remember the Daffodil Principle? One woman kept planting and planting, day after day, a few more daffodil bulbs. Time passed and she didn't quit. Small bits of effort multiplied and then: 50,000 bulbs burst into bloom each spring on the land surrounding her home.
With dibs and dabs of time, she'd made an art work with the impact of a mountain view. This one woman had become a force of nature.
I'm thinking of this again because I was just asked to e-mail my NC legislators asking for funding for the NC Arts Council. On the occasions when I take a moment to do such things, I'm half-thinking that I'm just wasting ten minutes.
However, a dab of my time, a dab of yours, and extraordinary things happen. People and places bloom.
Though it may not always seem so, everybody's dab is crucial. Don't forget to add yours, maybe even daily, to the world changes you want.
And, if you live in NC or have any interest in the arts here, click here to take action. It probably won't even take you ten minutes.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
With dibs and dabs of time, she'd made an art work with the impact of a mountain view. This one woman had become a force of nature.
I'm thinking of this again because I was just asked to e-mail my NC legislators asking for funding for the NC Arts Council. On the occasions when I take a moment to do such things, I'm half-thinking that I'm just wasting ten minutes.
However, a dab of my time, a dab of yours, and extraordinary things happen. People and places bloom.
Though it may not always seem so, everybody's dab is crucial. Don't forget to add yours, maybe even daily, to the world changes you want.
And, if you live in NC or have any interest in the arts here, click here to take action. It probably won't even take you ten minutes.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Letting Your Freak Flag Fly
"Dare to Be Yourself", says the cover of the current issue of Psychology Today.
"A sense of authenticity is one of our deepest psychological needs, and people are more hungry for it than ever. Even so, being true to oneself is not for the faint of heart."
Aristotle suggested that authenticity is going after the highest good, not simply "letting your freak flag fly." (The flag phrase is from Karen Wright, author of the article, not Aristotle.)
By this definition, authenticity can have its costs, Wright points out, especially in the short term. For example, writing for the market can produce money and recognition; writing according to your own highest standards is likely to be more satisfying, and (perhaps arguably) more toward the highest good.
Showing one's quirky colors--the freak flag--is for me, not only fun, but helps in the larger effort for highest good and most profound satisfaction.
In my early twenties, just out of school, I seemed to be a bit like a color you could wear with anything. And in fact both Democrats and Republicans asked me out. Within a few years, as I became more myself, only Democrats called. Which created a smaller pool in the short-term, but led to a happy marriage.
So I think there's no either/or decision on these two approaches. I favor flying one's flag, whatever it looks like, as we each sail, with zigs and zags, toward our best selves.
(If you go looking for the article, check out the hard copy. It has a useful how-to sidebar.)
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
"A sense of authenticity is one of our deepest psychological needs, and people are more hungry for it than ever. Even so, being true to oneself is not for the faint of heart."
Aristotle suggested that authenticity is going after the highest good, not simply "letting your freak flag fly." (The flag phrase is from Karen Wright, author of the article, not Aristotle.)
By this definition, authenticity can have its costs, Wright points out, especially in the short term. For example, writing for the market can produce money and recognition; writing according to your own highest standards is likely to be more satisfying, and (perhaps arguably) more toward the highest good.
Showing one's quirky colors--the freak flag--is for me, not only fun, but helps in the larger effort for highest good and most profound satisfaction.
In my early twenties, just out of school, I seemed to be a bit like a color you could wear with anything. And in fact both Democrats and Republicans asked me out. Within a few years, as I became more myself, only Democrats called. Which created a smaller pool in the short-term, but led to a happy marriage.
So I think there's no either/or decision on these two approaches. I favor flying one's flag, whatever it looks like, as we each sail, with zigs and zags, toward our best selves.
(If you go looking for the article, check out the hard copy. It has a useful how-to sidebar.)
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Sweet and Sassy
A picture of a coiled rattlesnake lying in straw is on the back cover of the May issue of Wildlife in North Carolina magazine.
The image is eye-catching enough in itself. Then I was startled by the caption: "What the pigmy rattlesnake lacks in size, it makes up for in looks, rarity and bold yet endearing attitude."
Bold yet endearing? A rattler?
I studied the picture carefully and still didn't understand.
What I do like, though, is the idea of bold and endearing describing the same personality. The words bold, outspoken, etc. often get a bad rap, being considered euphemisms for obnoxious.
But they're not the same thing at all. In fact, it sometimes takes more boldness to say something nice, to say something so authentic and tender that it feels dangerous.
That willingness to be vulnerable is bold and endearing.
But I'm just not seeing it in that rattlesnake. I'll have to check out the full article on the "petite viper" in next month's issue of the magazine.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
The image is eye-catching enough in itself. Then I was startled by the caption: "What the pigmy rattlesnake lacks in size, it makes up for in looks, rarity and bold yet endearing attitude."
Bold yet endearing? A rattler?
I studied the picture carefully and still didn't understand.
What I do like, though, is the idea of bold and endearing describing the same personality. The words bold, outspoken, etc. often get a bad rap, being considered euphemisms for obnoxious.
But they're not the same thing at all. In fact, it sometimes takes more boldness to say something nice, to say something so authentic and tender that it feels dangerous.
That willingness to be vulnerable is bold and endearing.
But I'm just not seeing it in that rattlesnake. I'll have to check out the full article on the "petite viper" in next month's issue of the magazine.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Playing a Fear Game
Kim, a student in Perth, Australia, is having a having a bit of banter with her physics teacher in class.
From her blog Scotchkey:
"kim: Well, Mr. L. You see, I have this deficiency complex too. When I'm writing up my labs, I have a fear of writing too much because if I use up all my ink, what's going to happen then? *MrL has previously made comments about the brief-ness of my answers*"
MrL says that this would be to the detriment of her marks.
My point in posting this item: some of our hesitations are just as silly as avoiding writing because we might run out of ink.
I have even had the occasional twinge of actual guilt that I was using up so much pencil lead by doodling that produced no timeless art. This is sick! At least it's no excuse in the wealthy world of bloggers: in Varanasi researching Sister India, I knew an engineer who'd done his math homework as a kid on the margins of old newspapers. That was all the paper he had. That's not the kind of trouble that anyone who reads this is wrestling with.
I have plenty of pencil lead. And Kim can most likely get hold of all the ink she wants.
All we need is to stop making silly excuses and leap into our lab reports, our novels, our Sistine ceilings...
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
From her blog Scotchkey:
"kim: Well, Mr. L. You see, I have this deficiency complex too. When I'm writing up my labs, I have a fear of writing too much because if I use up all my ink, what's going to happen then? *MrL has previously made comments about the brief-ness of my answers*"
MrL says that this would be to the detriment of her marks.
My point in posting this item: some of our hesitations are just as silly as avoiding writing because we might run out of ink.
I have even had the occasional twinge of actual guilt that I was using up so much pencil lead by doodling that produced no timeless art. This is sick! At least it's no excuse in the wealthy world of bloggers: in Varanasi researching Sister India, I knew an engineer who'd done his math homework as a kid on the margins of old newspapers. That was all the paper he had. That's not the kind of trouble that anyone who reads this is wrestling with.
I have plenty of pencil lead. And Kim can most likely get hold of all the ink she wants.
All we need is to stop making silly excuses and leap into our lab reports, our novels, our Sistine ceilings...
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
One Man's Bold Decision
"I've decided to take a more personal interest in the news," said the e-mail from my friend, media expert Hank Scott, "and particularly in the things that piss me off and embarrass me as an American. It is so easy for these issues to be seen as institutional, and they are. But they also are the consequences of actions by people..."
He was referring to reading in The New York Times, where he worked for many years, about an Italian tourist arriving in Washington at Dulles Airport and being held in custody for ten days. The man is a 35 year-old lawyer who was coming to this country to visit his girlfriend and her family in Alexandria, Virginia.
The reason given for his being jailed was that he had asked for asylum in the U.S., and therefore needed to be held for a hearing. He said he wanted no such thing. Officials finally agreed this had been a mistake. Still, he was not released, in spite of the efforts of his American friends, and U.S Senator John Warner of Virginia. Instead, he spent ten days in a rural Virginia jail, where he had been taken in shackles. "He ended up in a barracks with 75 other men, including asylum-seekers who told him they had been waiting a year."
He was released when a Times reporter began investigating. Yay, New York Times!! Yay, free and vigorous press!!
And yay, Hank, for calling immigration authorities to complain and encouraging others to do the same.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
He was referring to reading in The New York Times, where he worked for many years, about an Italian tourist arriving in Washington at Dulles Airport and being held in custody for ten days. The man is a 35 year-old lawyer who was coming to this country to visit his girlfriend and her family in Alexandria, Virginia.
The reason given for his being jailed was that he had asked for asylum in the U.S., and therefore needed to be held for a hearing. He said he wanted no such thing. Officials finally agreed this had been a mistake. Still, he was not released, in spite of the efforts of his American friends, and U.S Senator John Warner of Virginia. Instead, he spent ten days in a rural Virginia jail, where he had been taken in shackles. "He ended up in a barracks with 75 other men, including asylum-seekers who told him they had been waiting a year."
He was released when a Times reporter began investigating. Yay, New York Times!! Yay, free and vigorous press!!
And yay, Hank, for calling immigration authorities to complain and encouraging others to do the same.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Keep Balance
A writer told me today that novelist Walker Percy kept on his desk a sign that said: Wait.
Another similar piece of wisdom received second-hand this afternoon: Be Cool. A much-published novelist offered this as advice to a younger writer startled to find himself suddenly in demand and needing to make choices.
I have a bias toward hastiness. I find it hard to refrain from a quick decision, quick action. Especially if I think I have a fish on the line who might be tempted to get away.
It's hard to wait and hard to be cool. Especially when the fate of one's novel is involved.
Still it's good advice: to let a decision rest overnight, to wait a bit and reread before sending out work that has just been revised.
In any event, it's valuable to remember: boldness does not mean rushing into action too soon.
I know a boy who, when thanking his family members during his bar mitzvah, told the congregation he had learned "chillness" from his older brother.
I'm almost sixty and in the last few years, I've learned some chillness, though not a whole lot. I do have a few strategies for moments when rashness beckons:
*leave the location
*get away from computer and phone
*get physical exercise
*talk to somebody calm
*meditate
*do a routine brainless chore like weeding
*tell whoever is pushing me that I'll get back tomorrow , even when I'm the one who is pushing me.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Another similar piece of wisdom received second-hand this afternoon: Be Cool. A much-published novelist offered this as advice to a younger writer startled to find himself suddenly in demand and needing to make choices.
I have a bias toward hastiness. I find it hard to refrain from a quick decision, quick action. Especially if I think I have a fish on the line who might be tempted to get away.
It's hard to wait and hard to be cool. Especially when the fate of one's novel is involved.
Still it's good advice: to let a decision rest overnight, to wait a bit and reread before sending out work that has just been revised.
In any event, it's valuable to remember: boldness does not mean rushing into action too soon.
I know a boy who, when thanking his family members during his bar mitzvah, told the congregation he had learned "chillness" from his older brother.
I'm almost sixty and in the last few years, I've learned some chillness, though not a whole lot. I do have a few strategies for moments when rashness beckons:
*leave the location
*get away from computer and phone
*get physical exercise
*talk to somebody calm
*meditate
*do a routine brainless chore like weeding
*tell whoever is pushing me that I'll get back tomorrow , even when I'm the one who is pushing me.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Do It Right Now
"TODAY I will tackle at least two things I dread doing. I will not waste my time and energy by wallowing in boredom, worry, criticism, or fear. I will do what needs to be done even if it requires effort, risk and change."
A thought for the day from Hazelden, passed on by writer-photographer-businesswoman and regular participant here, Mamie Potter.
When I received this from Mamie this morning, I first thought: I'll post it. A second thought: I'll do it. So I added two items to my plan for today, both more important than anything already on my list.
Of course, it's still necessary to do them. But once they're on my list, it's highly likely.
If I followed through on this every day, I could really go places!
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
A thought for the day from Hazelden, passed on by writer-photographer-businesswoman and regular participant here, Mamie Potter.
When I received this from Mamie this morning, I first thought: I'll post it. A second thought: I'll do it. So I added two items to my plan for today, both more important than anything already on my list.
Of course, it's still necessary to do them. But once they're on my list, it's highly likely.
If I followed through on this every day, I could really go places!
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Boldness and Good Boundaries
Yesterday on the phone with my friend, teacher, and fellow novelist Laurel Goldman I had one of those ping-moments of realization.
Rattling on about my work consulting with writers, I realized all in an instant why I prefer working with people one-to-one rather than leading a long-term close-knit weekly group. I'd always thought that my reluctance to run such a group had to do with the extreme regularity of it.
Now I know that that's the smaller part of my objection. I prefer the one-to-one irregular contacts better because I don't have to witness the immediate unhappiness that critical feedback can bring. I typically hear from the person again only after she or he has decided what to do or not do with my feedback, and has gotten past any anger or disappointment.
That period of disconnection allows me to be as fully forthcoming with my thoughts as I need to be in order to be useful.
This is true of me because my boundaries (my sense of separateness from other people)haven't been strong enough long enough for me to tell every critical thought I've had without a significant possibility of holding back, consciously or unconsciously, in a mistaken effort to protect both of us.
For a person who is paid to give feedback on writing to withhold a response to the work is malpractice. It's cheating the other person.
For me, this little distance lets me keep my balance better, allows me to be bolder and freer, more objective and better at doing this kind of work.
After all, doctors don't usually treat their own family members. Lawyers don't go home with clients to whom they've had to deliver some hard-to-take information; if they did, and witnessed any resulting unhappiness, they might be tempted to soft-pedal in a way that ultimately hurts the client.
So for the time being I structure this little distance. Maybe one day my sense of separateness will let me do it differently, or maybe not.
In any event, I'm glad to have figured out this connection between boundaries and being as fully outspoken as I need to be.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Rattling on about my work consulting with writers, I realized all in an instant why I prefer working with people one-to-one rather than leading a long-term close-knit weekly group. I'd always thought that my reluctance to run such a group had to do with the extreme regularity of it.
Now I know that that's the smaller part of my objection. I prefer the one-to-one irregular contacts better because I don't have to witness the immediate unhappiness that critical feedback can bring. I typically hear from the person again only after she or he has decided what to do or not do with my feedback, and has gotten past any anger or disappointment.
That period of disconnection allows me to be as fully forthcoming with my thoughts as I need to be in order to be useful.
This is true of me because my boundaries (my sense of separateness from other people)haven't been strong enough long enough for me to tell every critical thought I've had without a significant possibility of holding back, consciously or unconsciously, in a mistaken effort to protect both of us.
For a person who is paid to give feedback on writing to withhold a response to the work is malpractice. It's cheating the other person.
For me, this little distance lets me keep my balance better, allows me to be bolder and freer, more objective and better at doing this kind of work.
After all, doctors don't usually treat their own family members. Lawyers don't go home with clients to whom they've had to deliver some hard-to-take information; if they did, and witnessed any resulting unhappiness, they might be tempted to soft-pedal in a way that ultimately hurts the client.
So for the time being I structure this little distance. Maybe one day my sense of separateness will let me do it differently, or maybe not.
In any event, I'm glad to have figured out this connection between boundaries and being as fully outspoken as I need to be.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Your Inner Guidance System
"Never leave until tomorrow the thing that you are guided to do today."
From Touchstones (Hazelden Meditation Series)quoted on Daily Spiritual Guide
The trick, of course, is discerning what is guidance and what is an escapist impulse in no one's best interests. Often that's pretty obvious. When it's harder (for a lot of folks, I think) is when the impulse is to set aside responsibilities and go play. Most anyone who is conscientious enough to think about such matters is likely to err in the direction of ignoring the voice that says take it easy.
Whatever the decision about a particular impulse on a particular day, it's so important to pay attention to the inner urgings that show up again and again. At the very least, they're important information. And may lead somewhere wonderful.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
From Touchstones (Hazelden Meditation Series)quoted on Daily Spiritual Guide
The trick, of course, is discerning what is guidance and what is an escapist impulse in no one's best interests. Often that's pretty obvious. When it's harder (for a lot of folks, I think) is when the impulse is to set aside responsibilities and go play. Most anyone who is conscientious enough to think about such matters is likely to err in the direction of ignoring the voice that says take it easy.
Whatever the decision about a particular impulse on a particular day, it's so important to pay attention to the inner urgings that show up again and again. At the very least, they're important information. And may lead somewhere wonderful.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Come Right Out and Say It
Yesterday's post cited St. Paul. Today's item on this far-reaching discussion of boldness has its origins in Edgar Cayce and aura photography.
I've just come from my monthly lunch gathering, Mystic Pizza: half a dozen folks who like to talk about metaphysics. I told a story there, then realized: I never before said that out loud to anybody.
The story in brief: I was at Heritage Store in Virginia Beach, which began in order to sell the health products that Cayce, through his psychically derived info, was recommending. The place is now a huge New Age department store, with cafe, massage rooms, etc.
That day an aura photographer had set up in a front corner. When I sat down to have my picture taken, I inwardly said: okay, God, you show up in this picture too.
When the picture emerged, the photographer said, first thing, exact quote: "What did you do, summon God?" She pointed to a vertical wisp of pink in the photo: "That's divine."
I have not arrived at my final stance about whether that pink wisp was God. But I was startled by the neat parallel of my thought and her next comment. And then I never mentioned that moment to anyone until this week.
Here's the irony. All my books are about speaking out/taking action/self-actualization. My first novel Revelation is about a minister who hears the voice of God and then hesitates to tell anyone, because after all, it sounds a little weird; and he's a minister, it's his job to tell. Finally he is emboldened. He emboldens himself. He speaks. And takes action. That's the underlying story line of most of what I write.
Hard to believe it was just a coincidence that for perhaps ten years I never got around to speaking of that little incident to anyone. And didn't even notice that I was keeping silent about it. It's certainly not as if I forgot.
It's surely no coincidence that I write (and blog) about what I do: telling others to speak up, etc. Clearly I'm preaching first to myself, which I think is true of a lot of preachers and various kinds of exhorters.
Also, I always wonder who else has pink wisps show up in their photos or floating orbs over the breakfast table, and just doesn't get around to saying it out loud.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
I've just come from my monthly lunch gathering, Mystic Pizza: half a dozen folks who like to talk about metaphysics. I told a story there, then realized: I never before said that out loud to anybody.
The story in brief: I was at Heritage Store in Virginia Beach, which began in order to sell the health products that Cayce, through his psychically derived info, was recommending. The place is now a huge New Age department store, with cafe, massage rooms, etc.
That day an aura photographer had set up in a front corner. When I sat down to have my picture taken, I inwardly said: okay, God, you show up in this picture too.
When the picture emerged, the photographer said, first thing, exact quote: "What did you do, summon God?" She pointed to a vertical wisp of pink in the photo: "That's divine."
I have not arrived at my final stance about whether that pink wisp was God. But I was startled by the neat parallel of my thought and her next comment. And then I never mentioned that moment to anyone until this week.
Here's the irony. All my books are about speaking out/taking action/self-actualization. My first novel Revelation is about a minister who hears the voice of God and then hesitates to tell anyone, because after all, it sounds a little weird; and he's a minister, it's his job to tell. Finally he is emboldened. He emboldens himself. He speaks. And takes action. That's the underlying story line of most of what I write.
Hard to believe it was just a coincidence that for perhaps ten years I never got around to speaking of that little incident to anyone. And didn't even notice that I was keeping silent about it. It's certainly not as if I forgot.
It's surely no coincidence that I write (and blog) about what I do: telling others to speak up, etc. Clearly I'm preaching first to myself, which I think is true of a lot of preachers and various kinds of exhorters.
Also, I always wonder who else has pink wisps show up in their photos or floating orbs over the breakfast table, and just doesn't get around to saying it out loud.
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
Anti-procrastination Strategies
Ever had a no-big-deal phone call you needed to make and you put it off a couple of days and then it became near-impossible?
I do it. I see my husband do it. Are we the only ones?
I've read that procrastination is the art of making a big deal out of a trifle. I'm not sure I know the mechanism, but I know I do see items lodge in my to-do lists: again and again on the daily lists, then sometimes for weeks on the weekly list. (Today's daily list on magenta Post-it, week to the right on orange, both stuck to the desk feature called a writing slide, which can thus be pushed out of sight.)
The sure cure is, of course, to do everything immediately. And I'm pretty good about that most of the time. But let anything slip and it's soon in a free fall. Also, trying to do everything immediately obviously can create an unnecessary and tense sense of urgency about everything.
Once I finally mark one of these stuck items off my list, I feel terrific, all-powerful, silly for having delayed. (Maybe that's why I do it?)
Rewards have often worked for me: as soon as I do x, I get to do y.
Also, doing the hard item first is a no-brainer. It's so liberating that I always ask myself why I don't always do it. (Then I think of Paul of Damascus who had the same issue: wondering about why "the good he would do he (did) not." If Saint Paul had to deal with this, I shouldn't wonder that I do.)
So as anti-procrastination strategies, here are some possibilities:
*do it immediately
*do it now and get a marvelous self-awarded reward
*do the hard item first
*get someone else to do it
*discover an underlying reason for avoidance thus making it possible to act or decide not to
*realize that the task was really a bad idea and good sense is saying no
*pair up with someone else who has a long-delayed stupid little task and do them together, then celebrate
*do it in a half-distracted state so that it's done before you know it
*plunge in boldly, like a surfer going out through the breakers, relishing the experience
Other ideas?
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
I do it. I see my husband do it. Are we the only ones?
I've read that procrastination is the art of making a big deal out of a trifle. I'm not sure I know the mechanism, but I know I do see items lodge in my to-do lists: again and again on the daily lists, then sometimes for weeks on the weekly list. (Today's daily list on magenta Post-it, week to the right on orange, both stuck to the desk feature called a writing slide, which can thus be pushed out of sight.)
The sure cure is, of course, to do everything immediately. And I'm pretty good about that most of the time. But let anything slip and it's soon in a free fall. Also, trying to do everything immediately obviously can create an unnecessary and tense sense of urgency about everything.
Once I finally mark one of these stuck items off my list, I feel terrific, all-powerful, silly for having delayed. (Maybe that's why I do it?)
Rewards have often worked for me: as soon as I do x, I get to do y.
Also, doing the hard item first is a no-brainer. It's so liberating that I always ask myself why I don't always do it. (Then I think of Paul of Damascus who had the same issue: wondering about why "the good he would do he (did) not." If Saint Paul had to deal with this, I shouldn't wonder that I do.)
So as anti-procrastination strategies, here are some possibilities:
*do it immediately
*do it now and get a marvelous self-awarded reward
*do the hard item first
*get someone else to do it
*discover an underlying reason for avoidance thus making it possible to act or decide not to
*realize that the task was really a bad idea and good sense is saying no
*pair up with someone else who has a long-delayed stupid little task and do them together, then celebrate
*do it in a half-distracted state so that it's done before you know it
*plunge in boldly, like a surfer going out through the breakers, relishing the experience
Other ideas?
If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.
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