The Necessity of Feeling Bad Sometimes

"The dear old human experience is a singular, difficult, shadowed, brilliant experience that does not resolve into being comfortable in the world. The valley of the shadow is part of that, and you are depriving yourself if you do not experience what humankind has experienced, including doubt and sorrow. We experience pain and difficulty as failure instead of saying, I will pass through this, everyone I have ever admired has passed through this, music has come out of it, literature has come out of it. We should think of our humanity as a privilege."

--from the wondrously fine writer Marilynne Robinson, in an interview in The Paris Review, as reported in an essay by Meghan O'Rourke in a column for The Week.


And I thought I was the only one who feels I failed if I'm unhappy. Apparently, everybody and their sister feels the same way. The logic for this faulty conclusion is clear: if I'm not happy, then I've been unable to arrange things the way I want them. Which makes me feel like a schlump. But what mortal can arrange everything the way she wants?

I like Robinson's approach much better. It's a lot less arrogant. And it could be a huge relief -- if I ever entirely convince myself.



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Bold Soldiers

Wherever each of us is on the hawk to dove continuum, I think we have to admit that soldiers are bold. They act on their convictions and risk their lives in that action. They also risk coming home with brain damage and/or missing limbs.

So, here's to the bold soldiers of all stripes!

Happy Memorial Day to you and the warriors closest to your heart.


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Theoretically Bold

I'm going to visit my mom this weekend which means I'm also going to the beach (Wrightsville Beach, NC). I was right on the point of scheduling a surfing lesson, the first in my life, when I suddenly remembered that I have tennis elbow in my right arm.

Probably I should wait until I can use both arms.

Frustrating? Or off the hook? Or both?

I do mean to do this thing -- and this summer. I'm not waiting another year. But probably not this weekend.



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Hazel Soares Soars

Bold and persistent, 94 year-old Hazel Soares got her degree in art history from Mills College this past week.

Mills itself is pretty bold. From the website: "Over the decades, Mills “firsts” have been numerous: the first women's college west of the Rockies (chartered 1885); the first laboratory school west of the Mississippi for aspiring teachers (1926); the first women’s college to offer a computer science major (1974) and a 4+1 MBA degree (2001); the first business school in the West for women (2005); and the first MFA program in book art and creative writing in the nation (2009).

Always a leader in the arts, Mills was among the first liberal arts colleges to offer a modern dance degree (1941), and it became the national center for modern dance outside New York City. The Center for Contemporary Music, dedicated in 1967, is a preeminent center for electronic music."

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Do What You Can ...

...to save the world.


Taken at Swan Quarter, NC, near the ferry to Ocracoke

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What's Scary and What Isn't

Different things scare different folks. A bold move for one person is routine for another, and vice versa.

For example, if I tried to take the stand that this bird is so casually doing, I would be bold, indeed. On the other hand, I've done some things that this fellow would absolutely quail at.

My point, punnery aside, is that comparisons, in the case of courage, are not only odious, they simply don't work. Best to avoid comparing ourselves with others in any way.

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Hurrah for Helen!

Helen Mirren's wax likeness was unveiled at Mme. Tussaud's yesterday and the picture of her with the fake version was number one in gossip site Radaronline's Hot Photos.

I applaud the bold Dame Helen for the chutzpah to be totally hot at 65.


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Bold Teacher-Writers

Last week I taught my "Writing Powerful Stories" workshop on Ocracoke Island on the North Carolina Outer Banks.

The participants were public school teachers/guidance counselors/principals, etc. The sponsor was the NC Center for the Advancement of Teaching.

What's bold about this? For one, I, who am primarily a writer, was teaching teachers. And more striking, the courage and honesty of the teachers in writing their own powerful stories. They did good and brave work-- and weathered 30 instructional hours in just a few days.

We went on a couple of outings: one by boat to the long-abandoned town (with its restored one-room school) on nearby Portsmouth Island.

Here's some of the scenery: starting with the ferry taking me to my Ocracoke Island teaching assignment.










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A Week (Almost) on an Island

I'm getting ready to head off to Ocracoke on the NC Outer Banks to teach a writing class for five days for NCCAT. Very nice assignment, I know.

At the same time, teaching is the boldest thing I ever do. The most demanding of attentiveness. Writing is a piece of cake, by comparison. Public speaking is a walk in the park. (Pardon the cliches, please.) Teaching is serious stuff.

Ran across this comparison of writing and teaching from Parker J. Palmer, whom I've quoted here before:

"Writing is easy," someone once said. "You just sit down and open a vein." Teaching is an equally vulnerable act, performed, as it is, at the dangerous intersection of the public and the personal. To teach well, I must reveal things about which I care deeply-not the intimate details of my life, but subjects that I find crucial and compelling, that have helped shape who I am. The courage to teach is the courage to risk the judgment that comes when I expose my passions to public scrutiny."

So I'm getting my adrenaline cranked up--and packing my sunscreen. Will report back.

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Gandhi as Shy Guy

Gandhi, one of my often-mentioned heroes, is an encouraging example in part because of his rough start.

Prior to peacefully running the British out of India, he was a lawyer who was too cowed to speak up in court. He lost case after case. "He was a total failure," writes Paul Rogat Loeb in an AARP Bulletin piece adapted from his book Soul of a Citizen. Gandhi's Indian family "sent him off to South Africa, where he found his voice by challenging racial segregation."

It's a truism of public speaking that we lose any fear of it once what we have to say becomes more important than our personal performance.

"I love viewing Gandhi not as the master strategist of social change," Loeb writes, "but as someone who first was literally tongue-tied, shy and intimidated."

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Don't Forget to Look Up

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A Shocking Number

Just passed a thousand posts on Friday without even knowing it. That would be about three novels in length. Though, I must say my novels are more considered than my posts. Still, it does make me think. A thousand! Damn! Will have to cook up an appropriate celebration.

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Shear Boldness

Yesterday afternoon my writing group was called off, and instead of rushing back to my laptop, I went home and hit the garden.

Hit is the operative word. I did some serious pruning. For me, this is a bold move.

My general gardening philosophy is: if a thing wants to grow, I let it grow. This concept, put into practice, lends the place a certain straggly aura.

Yesterday, however, I got out the good clippers and restored all the edges, crisped up the paths. It looks great. The shrubs are looking perky and robust. And I'm very empowered.



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Yet Another Great Quote Sent in by Mamie

Live your life in such a way that when your feet hit the floor Satan
shudders and says, "Oh no, she's awake."
- unknown

(Mamie can be found at Can I Do It?)

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Older and Bolder

I find growing older, I'm increasingly bolder
And increasingly hard to subdue!
- author unknown

Contributed by quote maven Mamie of Can I Do It?

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My Writerly News!

Got me a new agent and I'm really happy with her. This is always a great moment in a writer's life. So I'm celebrating. And Husband Bob brought home hydrangeas.

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Take a Step Toward Your Dream

"Talk does not cook rice."

-Chinese Proverb, quoted from productivity guru David Allen's latest newsletter. (His mantra is Getting Things Done or GTD.)

I'm a great fan of talk myself. However, in most situations, the conversation (or the monologue) has to be followed by action for any "rice" to result.

Rice, I now realize, is a symbol of fertility and prosperity.

What have you been talking about lately that you haven't put on the burner? Set some rice to simmering now.

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"Brave Voices for the Ill"

My sister-in-law Ruth Sheehan, a truly bold writer, is a columnist for the local News & Observer. She has often used that space to champion better treatment for the mentally ill.

Recently she started a column saying: "It took a lot of guts to write this book." Which would have gotten my attention even if she weren't related to me.

The book Our Voices: First Person Accounts of Schizophrenia is written by five people who are in treatment. The idea is to get rid of some of the stigma of the illness by busting myths and showing what the experience is and the competence of some who have it. The five decided to use their real names. That was the second gutsy move after writing it.

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Bold in the Morning

Made a recent personal discovery: I have more courage in the morning. I don't mean the arduous moments of struggling to wake up, but instead after I get rolling. Then the world feels new, or newish, and I'm out in it.

Fatigue, on the other hand, does not make me bold. And that's probably just as well.

Have you observed any such patterns in yourself? This could be useful info for scheduling.

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Bold Basketball

Last night's national college men's (NCAA) championship was a contest in which neither side backed down or got rattled or gave less than a terrific performance.

An underdog team went up against a school that has won the title several times, but not in quite a few years.

An aging super-star coach competed against a young rising star coach.

Duke versus Butler reached mythic proportions.

Duke won, (my alma mater, as it happens) but only by a two-point basket and the game was still undecided in the last 13 seconds. And all involved played their parts with gumption (which is to say, a combo of dignity and fire.)

It was exciting and lovely to see, if you like basketball, as most people in my home state of North Carolina do.

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The New Year

It's Passover. It's Easter. It's spring.

I wish you refreshing newness of life and the strength of your roots and traditions.

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Bloom Where You Land

This little rock garden plant emerged between the front steps of my office building and has been blooming cheerily for about a week. Everyone is careful to step over it.

This is a good demonstration of the crack/flaw in an object being part of its charm. Remember the story of the cracked pot and "do your thing" whether you're perfect or not.

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Do What You Love

Dropping by my local library a week ago, I looked around toward the desk to say "hi" to my favorite librarian. I didn't see her and figured it wasn't her Sunday to work.

A few more steps and I came upon a picture of her, surrounded by fresh camellias from someone's yard. Joyce. That's the only name I knew her by. She'd died two days earlier, suddenly of a stroke at the age of 58.

Since then I've learned that she -- Joyce Bingham -- was a lot of people's favorite librarian. Many people looked around to say hello when they came in the door. Now there are notes around her picture acknowledging that: "...I never even knew your name..."

The obit in the News & Observer said she had lived a "vagabond life" settling finally here in Apex, North Carolina. Her philosophy: "Do what you love, Love what you do! Bloom where you are planted!" She certainly bloomed at the Eva Perry library.

Notice of the memorial service requested: "To reflect Joyce's spreading of sunshine to all who knew her, the family requests no black attire."

Do what you love, Love what you do. And don't delay getting around to it.

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Gutsy Obama

However you feel about the healthcare reform bill passed this week(and I'm heartily in favor), it's surely clear that Obama is a president who has stuck his neck out. Who bet the farm. Who put his eggs in one basket. And any of the other cliches that stand for high-risk persistence over a long haul in the face of stubborn obstacles.

And he succeeded.

Obama was my candidate. And, though I don't agree with everything he has done (the war business), I'm immensely proud of him. Especially for the courageous and pragmatic way he has pursued this legislation.

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Plastic Highways

Just ran across this item about repairing roads with garbage in Saathee, which is a magazine for Indians living in the Carolinas.

It doesn't sound as if the idea is entirely worked out. However, this is the kind of thinking we all need to be doing: using one problem as the solution to another problem, thus solving both. That's bold.

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Attention: Raleigh Writers and Other Creative Types

One of the five offices in the charming 1910 Raleigh house where I work has been transformed. The room or half the room can be rented by the week or the month, by a writer or anyone else needing a place to work quietly within a small creative community. Above you see Desk One in the room now referred to as A Room of One's Own, with a nod toward Virginia Woolf. Below are Desk Two and the central conference area, all beautifully appointed and awaiting the grace of your presence.





Currently the downstairs of the house is occupied by owner Carrie Knowles, writer and visual artist and US director of the Cross Currents Chamber Music Arts Festival. She has an office, a studio, and, in the large foyer, a gallery. Then there's me, my office for writing, reading manuscripts, and meeting with writer clients.

Upstairs, Lisa Finaldi, national campaigns director for Greenpeace, has her headquarters. Greenpeace is the environmental outfit best known for defending whales against whaling ships on the high seas.

Right now, a memoirist and novelist is at work in A Room of One's Own, but space will be coming available again.

In addition to the inspiring and interesting company in this edge-of-downtown Raleigh building, there's a kitchen with a microwave and fridge, a small lovely garden and deck in the back, a big front porch, a bathroom with a clawfoot tub, a security system, and safe street parking.

You can rent a desk for $50 a week, and keep quiet so the renter of the other desk stays happy. Or you can rent the whole room for $100 a week and talk on your cell to your heart's content. Or you and a friend or colleague can share the office. Utilities are included in the price.

It's a good place to get a lot done: finish your novel, meet a tough deadline, get your dissertation wrapped up, start a consulting business.

Here are a few more visuals of life here. And if you're interested in more info or taking a look, contact Carrie Knowles at: cjknowles@earthlink.net.

The July crepe myrtles at the curb out front:

Carrie setting up a show in the gallery:


Our creed, posted in the foyer. And that's my office at the end of the hall:

Again, for more info, contact Carrie Knowles at: cjknowles@earthlink.net.

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Making Good on Old Promises

A couple of times, in answer to requests, I've promised pictures that I didn't immediately deliver.

I guess I should say I'm making semi-good on the promises, since I've come up with only picture in each category.

This first one is a piece of the road from where I live toward the first stretch of pavement. It's the downhill-and-around-a-pond route I said I didn't care to drive when the ruts had turned to ice: see, "The Driving Decision."


This second is from Rancho La Puerta spa in Tecate, Mexico, where I taught a writing class over Thanksgiving week (that's how long I've dragged in getting to this.) This is a walkway through the grape arbor toward one of the gyms. Rancho often shows that things don't have to look the way they usually do. The gym has stained glass doors and a fireplace with a piece of mosaic art inlaid in the stone wall above it. See: "Spa Teaching."




To me there's always something bold and adventurous about a path or a road.

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A Blogging Drought?

I seem to have fallen off quite a lot in my frequency of posting. Partly because I'm so busy. And also I haven't had sufficient impulse. It's easy to get out of the habit.

Not sure whether to let the rate sag until I feel like boldly opining more. Or to keep myself cranked up and pontificating daily as has so long been my custom.

I could flip a coin daily, and then whichever came up, I'd (characteristically) do the opposite.

Maybe, boldly, I won't ponder too hard about this. Over-pondering seems to be a favorite sport of the non-bold.

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A Short Week with a Long To-Do List

Almost finished cramming five days of work into four. Such are the perils of taking time off. Seems that I don't plan and schedule in a very self-protective way.

I've never thought of planning as a bold activity. Quite the reverse. But I'm starting to see that it could be. It would involve my taking a much more clear-eyed look at what I do and when and for how much. And how much time I spend taking a break and cruising Gawker.com and similar venues. Clear-eyed can lead to all kinds of worrisome questions.

(This is so short it could be a Facebook update. Apparently my style has been affected by the social media.)

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"You Rock"

Here's a most inspiring post from uber-blogger Seth Godin. It's similar to the change-by-making-a-series-of-tiny-changes approach of kaizen posted about here earlier.

Godin's idea is to be amazingly bold and excellent for a mere five minutes a day. To do that much can rock the world.

I agree with him on all except his last line. See what you think and let us know.

Note: I've been absent from posting for a couple of weeks. Now getting back in the saddle. I took a week of stay-cation: time off at home reading and puttering. Also took a wonderful drawing class. And of course I worked like a maniac in advance and immediately after in order to have time to do this. Thus the alarming absence of my posts... Thanks for noticing.


Note 2: I just noticed that I posted about kaizen this past January and three years ago and thought the concept was new to me both times. Well, I suppose that gives me double the pleasure of discovery.

Finally, welcome to Calin as a regular subscriber here.

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Public Speaking!

Y'all, I have always loved giving talks.

What I mean by a talk is standing up and telling 30 minutes of war stories, plus reading a few pages from one of my novels and then taking questions.

What's not to love about doing that?

This morning, however, I went to a session at a Duke alum seminar weekend ("Money, Sex, and Power") on giving more powerful presentations. I was one of the four who volunteered to give a talk and then get a critique in front of the sixty others in the group.

Oh, shit, I was terrible!

(I'm going to recover from this. I really, really am. I've just left that auditorium and come straight here to the library to blog about this experience.)

It was bold! I'll give myself that much credit. The three who went before me performed quite creditably.

The assignment was not to offer amiable personal anecdotes, but instead to make a three-minute presentation with a beginning, middle, and an end. I've done that only once since high school and I had a teleprompter then.

I won't bore you with details of how my effort this morning was a mess. Except to say that temperamentally, I'm a novelist. I communicate in units of 100,000 words, with lengthy flashbacks. Just believe me... (And it got worse as I realized how badly it was going. Perhaps from people's expressions of faint puzzlement and alarm.)

Now, here's the good news. I learned a lot. The teacher -- Joy Javits -- was terrific. She managed to say some nice things that I actually believed. I wound up feeling comfortable and redoing some parts in front of the group, using Joy's suggestions.

And I left with one tip that I know will stick with me: don't just skim my eyes across the whole audience, instead make lingering eye contact with one person after another.

Now, here's the clinker. I have a mid-day talk scheduled for Monday, at Edenton Street Methodist Church in Raleigh. My plan has been my usual rather informal chat. That's likely what I'll do, as usual. It goes over well. (In 39 years of giving little chats, it has gone over horribly only once --at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan--and semi-badly only twice, both in my hometown at UNCW where my father was a trustee. Thirty-nine years! Hear that, Joy? )

However, I may well pursue with Joy this business of learning to give a short pitch that's to the point. I need this skill so that I'll be prepared should I ever get an Oscar.

And now that I've told you all this, I feel much better. Really rather good, in fact. I couldn't immediately get my soothing and encouraging psychologist husband Bob on the phone to debrief, and turned next to you.

I'll let you know how the Monday talk goes.

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Hacked! And Inspired!

Someone sent 2,096 of my friends and colleagues an email Friday trying to sell electronics devices. If the message made it past your spam filter, sorry for the intrusion.

I discovered this state of affairs tonight--didn't pay much attention to my email over the weekend.

But I stayed unusually cool...all on account of an inspiring manuscript I'm reading. A young writer to whom I provided only the slightest bit of help sent me her completed novel asking if I'd consider writing a blurb for her brand-new agent to send out with the manuscript.

First, it was exciting to see what she'd done. Then I spent most of the day reading it: and the book so inspired me. The story, a whimsical delightful romantic fable, put me in the mood to relish the minor difficulties of life as part of the big game.

I'm not always inclined to take that attitude. The last time I played a driveway game of pickup basketball, some decades ago, I got irritated because people kept waving their hands in my face.

Today's delightful reading reminded me that the waving hands and other obstructions are part of what makes the game.

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Pulitzer for The National Enquirer?

The long-scorned tabloid, The National Enquirer, is reportedly in the running for a Pulitzer prize. The Pulitzer folks have allowed them into the race, submitting the stories that broke the John Edwards story. (This news was broken by the Huffington Post and then reported in The New York Times, and of course The Enquirer.)

The Enquirer deserves to win, and not just because it's thrilling to see an underdog rise to fame. They did an extraordinary job of reporting and I'm glad to see prejudices and outdated images of the publication give way to recognizing this excellent newspaper work.

Bold updated admission of my own: I have a glance at the Enquirer website most every day I'm at a computer.

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"Presto Book-O"

Steve Almond, the guy who wrote Candyfreak (and how could a true candy freak be anything but virtuous and wholesome?), has an interesting piece on The Rumpus about self-publishing a book of one-page pieces that he couldn't rouse a lot of industry interest in.

What he's doing is mainly selling it through his readings,making it a rare and thus-to-be-cherished item.

It's not my ambition to proceed this way, and it's not his only outlet. He has a book coming out through Random House. Nonetheless, I like his innovation and his cheeky style and wish him well with This Won't Take But a Minute, Honey.

Thanks to Mary Moore for the heads-up on this. I welcome stories of inspiring boldness, in small matters and large -- please let me know when you have one to pass on.

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Il Fuoco Nelle Vene

Flipping through an old Allure magazine a few nights ago (I'm into Old Allure), I came across a breakout quote that seized my attention: "...il fuoco nelle vene....) which means "fire in the veins" and refers to living with passion.

The story was about the style of Italian women, at least some of the more flamboyant ones. The writer adopted that style and found it liberating and pretty thrilling to be mistaken as Italian.

I found interesting the responses of a few other online personalities to this quote:

It's Q's World says the phrase is "... an Italian expression for women carrying on in an over the top way (more referring to a Gaudy look, obvious makeup, extra jewelry buxom big hair , and I truly I do feel I'm living like that, well that and my Tits Out, big Heels, lots of gloss and eyebrows and legs out approach to life, with Fire in the Veins, is what the Italos call it, I need more eyeliner in my life to finish pulling the look But I'm almost there!"

Fuck Yeah, Tattoos!: shows the phrase wrapping in elegant cursive around a bare midriff.

Actor-singer Demi Lovato on CelebrityTweet: "So, blood is fire pulsing through our veins.. We're either writers or fools behind the reigns..."

Erin Ashley has posted a painting of hers on the theme: "The Italians have a name for their rapturous approach to life: Fuoco nelle vene."

One blogger admired the philosophy and its "rupturous approach to life."

I have a more subdued approach myself, not so rupturous as some of these. Even so, the fire-in-the-veins image and the very sound of the Italian phrase feels pleasingly intoxicating.

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A Daring Writer Reads in Raleigh

At the admirable Quail Ridge Books at 7:30 tomorrow (Thursday) night, Joe Ashby Porter will read from his new book of short stories, All Aboard.

A Shakespeare scholar and teacher of creative writing at Duke University, Porter has earned many awards for his work, including an Academy Award from the Academy of Arts and Literature, with the commendation: "No writer of his gifted generation has shown greater daring or has earned higher praise."

And from the Quail Ridge description of All Aboard: "Porter ventures into new, sometimes unprecedented territory, from the luxe restraint of 'Merrymount,' through the stops-out eroticism of 'Pending,' to the distilled heebie-jeebies of 'Dream On.' Here, reading, travel, and sexual orientation (and disorientation) loom larger than before in Porter, and the dialogue gives new play for what Harry Mathews has called Porter's 'golden ear.'"

Do come if you're in the neighborhood.

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A Magic Cottage in a Coastal Village

My inventive and creative brother Franc Payne has taken a little old house on Core Sound, behind the North Carolina Outer Banks, and turned it into a magic cottage with big screened porches. He did it himself on weekends over a couple of years.


















It's delightful (I painted a couple of doors myself) and situated in the town of Atlantic, which is a village a lot like Ocracoke was many years ago.

Should you be in the market for a magic cottage in a coastal village, this one's for sale at $189,000. Contact: Franc.Payne@ForTheBestRate.com





Even the facilities are charmant.

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Behind the Refrigerator

An event high on my scale of domestic boldness: this afternoon Husband Bob and I moved our fridge and cleaned the coils in the back in the hopes that this will take care of a popsicle crisis.

I am devoted to consuming coconut popsicles (up to three a day) of the Whole Foods house brand called 365. Lately these personally important items have been getting melty in our freezer.

Before tackling the fridge coils, I tried a different experiment. Two weeks ago, when there was snow here, I buried a popsicle in snow. My fallacious logic was that the snow was frozen and would therefore refreeze the popsicle into a solid item.

Not so. What I dug up was a sack of unappetizing milky liquid.

So I did some Internet research and learned that the problem might be dusty coils. For a person who doesn't dust things that are in easy reach, this is large.

Also, we live in a semi-old log house with two mastiffs. The layers of dust on the floor behind the fridge had to be scraped loose with a sharp object.

I'm eager to see if this cleaning thing works. Will report. If it does, it could encourage further domestic boldness.

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The Bad News, The Good News

A radically mixed day: two pieces of bad news and one piece of good news. All coming from different directions and none of them my story to tell. The bad news is about friends' very difficult situations.

So I have today the challenge of holding hot and cold in my hand at the same time. Dealing with each requires different strategies.

In practice, this adds up to flicking back and forth, back and forth, in my attention.

It also adds up to: very preoccupied. Tried to drive to the Post Office and passed it twice before I remembered to turn in. Keep staring at my laptop and waiting for it to do things I haven't told it to do.

I have to say that sadness is getting a whole lot more time. That and a feel of dislocation: shiftings just beneath the earth's crust.

I guess my plan is to keep on with the back-and-forth -- let it have its way -- and drive carefully.

--and then, of course, I googled and found an idea worth considering. I didn't agree with everything in this health blog post, but I did like the idea of focusing on feelings of love for all concerned.



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Wisdom from Mystic Pizza

As I've often mentioned here, I have a K&W cafeteria lunch once a month with half a dozen people with metaphysical interests: Mystic Pizza.

Today was the day and here's the report from the lunchtime mystics (three of whom are pictured below.)
*Instead of flight or fight in a moment of confrontation, try gently shifting your weight from side to side. One could consider this dodging. But in fact it's just giving yourself a bit of room and activity other than darting away or getting in someone's face.
*Things work out better if you let people do you favors and you pick up some of their slack. (Some of the assembled have a hard time with this in practice.)
*Tiny little barely-conscious thoughts can cause our intended actions to get hung up. Invite the thoughts to show themselves.
*Stay fluid.

Sounds more like a self-improvement, how-to-live group, I know. But the discussions included much about the mysteries of energy.

Mystics here with me at this shot at the K&W. Thomas Griggs, a leadership consultant, and Rolfer Marsha Presnell-Jennette. Photo by author, shaman, and computer person, Kelley Harrell.

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All Us Chickens

Just came from the final celebration of my 61st Jubilee. It was the winter-quarter birthday brunch of six buddies who have been celebrating our aging since most of us were in our twenties.

One gift I received was particularly bold and imaginative: fresh eggs from Stephanie's chickens. She keeps them in her mid-town backyard, as pets. I like that.

After all, where is it written that we should be limited to cats and dogs and ferrets and iguanas as animal companions?

She did have to re-home a rooster after it took to waking central Raleigh far too early. But otherwise, she's found them very good company, clucking and burbling and strutting around.

I learned this morning a few things about chicken care: mainly that it's important this time of year to make sure that they're combs don't get cold; they're prone to frostbite.

I'm tempted to knit a few hen hats for the next round of birthdays. But that might be sliding past bold to eccentric. Can't have that.

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The Fine Example of Lord Keillor of Wobegon

Last night Husband Bob and I went to see a live TV showing of Prairie Home Companion at a local movie theatre: a perfect celebration of Bob's 68th birthday yesterday.

It was sublimely good and completely heart-warming: a winning combo that Garrison Keillor produces weekly without fail.

Here's why I mention him again on a blog broadly devoted to boldness and marching to your own drummer, artistic and otherwise. GK has made an immense success and ongoing contribution based on an idea that at first probably didn't sound like a sure-fire national hit. Think about it: a two hour radio show about an imaginary Minnesota town, two cowboys, a lovelorn private eye, ketchup, duct tape, and hopeful gospel music. A show based on one sorta odd guy being relentlessly himself. I'd hate to have to pitch it in a meeting.

And I'm continuously inspired as well as delighted by both the show and the example.

Encore performance of the HDTV showing: Feb. 9 at a theatre reasonably near you.

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Dabbling in Retail

Recently I decided to sell some clothes on consignment. In the past I've taken my physically or emotionally outgrown items to the Goodwill. This new possibility felt to me a small enticing adventure. I grew up in the midst of the clothing business. My parents owned stores in Wilmington, NC. And I feel I know a tiny bit about merchandising.

Well, dammit. Neither consignment store I tried wanted a single piece. One place said that my items were "too matoo-ah." The girl there pointed out that their target audience is high school girls. It is true that I'm 61, but my husband thinks I dress like a high school girl.

So I went to a consignment store for classic clothes, thinking surely they'd like my tastefully mature collection. There, I was given no reason for the total rejection, and didn't ask for one. Apparently I'm neither a high school girl nor a classic.

Next stop is either the back door loading dock of the Goodwill-- or Sotheby's. I'll show 'em.

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The Driving Decision

Still snowy here in the unaccustomed South, and we each have to make the decision about when it's safe to drive. It varies, of course, with the vehicle and the address.

To get from my house to a paved and cleared road, requires covering the long downhill curving driveway with woods on either side, followed by a hard right onto a second dirt road. Should one slide straight across this fork while trying to turn, one enters the woods airborne and enjoys a three to four foot drop when a tree finally intervenes.

The second dirt road leads across a curving dam with a pond on one side and drop-with-creek-and-woods-at-the-bottom on the other.

Next is the winding uphill for another half mile, followed by a turn onto a paved-but-not-scraped lane, and then a three mile paved-but-not-scraped country highway.

I've never gotten around to getting a four-wheel drive -- it freezes here so rarely -- so it's just me and the dainty floral Carmella Camry making this trip. I take a fairly conservative approach. Not what anyone would call bold.

As usual, I consider this minor matter a metaphor for larger decisions. At what point, does cabin fever trump risk? When do the risks outweigh the gains? Well, it's almost never clear. So we just decide and act and, ideally, don't look back.

It's the hidden boldness of daily life, these little decisions.

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My Snow Experiment

We have the rare pleasure here of snow these last few days. It was two and a half days before I could get from our house on a hilly dirt road through woods to the main road. So I've had a cosy few days, with a little cross-country skiing, up until the bindings broke on one of my 20 year old skis.

Seeking other ways to play in the snow, I hit upon my experiment. I decided to do the garden fertilizing I'd neglected to do in October, figuring that the slow melt of the snow would remove any need to water.

This isn't the right time of year, and some of this fertilizer is the weekly type, some the acid type, and some is the kind that burns if it isn't watered enough.

We'll see how it goes in the spring, if I remember what I put where. This is what I mean when I say in my website bio that I'm a slapdash gardener. Given my approach, I think it's bold of me to keep at it at all.

But I've always felt that anything worth doing was worth doing badly. Otherwise, how would we ever get started at anything new?

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The Kaizen Way

This afternoon I heard for the first time about how a Japanese business management technique can be usefully adapted to making positive changes in one's life.

Like lightning, I rushed to Google this new word: kaizen.

The basic idea, as explained in One Small Step Can Change Your Life: The Kaizen Way by Robert Maurer, is to make improvements in such tiny increments that resistance doesn't bother to kick in.

I love this idea. It could explain the ancient puzzle described by Paul in Romans 7:19 "the good I would do, I do not." I've never understood why it was often difficult and sometimes apparently impossible for me to do the "good I would do."

If I make too large a resolution, fight or flight kicks in and wins. Nothing changes.

Here's the story of a man who tried this approach and found it gradually and easily quite successful: How to Overcome Hesitation, Fear, and Laziness to Achieve Your Goals.

I have had an idea that the minimal approach works with writing: I'm ever suggesting to clients and workshop participants that they make a commitment of, say, 5 minutes a day. Nobody fights writing for 5 minutes, and once you've begun you tend to keep going on a lot of days. And even doing things 5 minutes at a time, they eventually get done.

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Before There Was AVATAR

If you're needing an inspiring role model, read the Wired Magazine career history of Avatar director James Cameron. What a combo of persistence, courage, and inventiveness! But to make that feel real and encouraging, I always need to know the details.

Thirty-three years ago, he was a young truck driver who went to see Star Wars and came out angry that he hadn't made the movie. So he raised $20,000 from some dentists to make a sci-fi short, that then led him to the next step...and some of the steps from there to Terminator to Titanic to Avatar have not been so easy.

I'm impressed that he didn't let his imagination shut down when immense amounts of money were riding on a project and things weren't going well. That's some grace under pressure.

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