Wading Through Mud Today

I've noticed that there's a rhythm to my productivity and my get-up-and-go. Mud-wading periods are followed by flying-faster-than-light periods when most things are easy. The mud periods inevitably feel to me like a failure of nerve: as if timidity were slowing me down. This may not be true at all; it may be just a cycle, like waking and sleeping.

Today I was having my monthly cafeteria lunch with four mystic-philosophers I know (the group I refer to as Mystic Pizza). One of these wise individuals said that her theme for the year was Confronting the Resistance.

The idea of The Resistance comes from the excellentWar of Art book/CDs by Steven Pressfield. The Resistance is the great invisible force that can get between any of us and the good that we intend to do.

My friend's resolve/theme isn't to beat the Resistance every time. Instead it's to recognize when she's justifying not doing the right thing and instead make a conscious decision about which way to go.

For example, she finds herself saying: I'll go to the Y and work out after I finish this Sudoku. But she knows that what she needs is exercise and not more mental games. Her resolve is to simply acknowledge that exercise is the right decision and decide yes or no. I'll do the right thing and get moving. Or, I'm going to sit here and do this puzzle because I want to.

Her idea is to acknowledge when she's using gradual procrastinating rationalizations and instead admit that she's making a choice, on the probably correct theory that this awareness will lead to making good decisions more often.

I think she's on to a good plan. Maybe I should decide to wade through mud for the rest of the afternoon--doing easy things slowly. It would at least be better than brow-beating myself. (If I had a resolution for this New Year, it would be no berating myself.)

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Losing Mum and Pup: A Brave Book

In the last 24 hours, I've read Christopher Buckley's memoir, Losing Mum and Pup, about the deaths of his parents William and Pat Buckley.

William F. Buckley Jr., as you know doubt know, was the conservative who used big words on Firing Line and wrote several dozen books and created National Review. I long admired his intelligence and style and wit and devotion to his faith, though I disagreed with him politically almost entirely. I've tended to refer to any thoughtful conservative as Buckleyesque.

Son Christopher, himself the author of 14 books, is a writer I'd seen interviewed by Jon Stewart and knew as the author of Thank You for Smoking (saw the movie) but had never read until now. I'm soon to read the rest of him.

His memoir about the loss of his parents--his mother Pat Buckley as interesting a character as his famous father--is as loving as a story can be, though it has been criticized for how much it reveals. It is also as funny a book as I've ever read. It feels tremendously honest.

This is not a full-blown review; I'm not going back through the book finding examples to quote to prove my points. I simply want to congratulate Christopher Buckley on his courage and balance, and to say to anyone who may have so far missed the book: Read It. I'll think of him whenever, in my work, I fear I'm losing my nerve.

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Eating Dessert Instead

"Eat Dessert First" is a classic bit of tongue-in-cheek advice. I've arrived at a guilt-free variation on this for special days: skipping boring proteins, etc., and going straight for a dessert that I've long eyed.

Last night (to review: it was my 61st b'day) for dinner, I ate Oh, My God, Chocolate Peanut Butter Pie at Daniels Restaurant in Apex, NC, where I live. I've eaten there a number of times--but after a platter of pasta, peanut butter pie seems drastically unwise.

I can now happily report: this particular delectable is an excellent celebration. And I'm thrilled with my new manner of celebrating. (26th anniversary in December was Chocolate Chip Cookie Molten Cake at Chili's)



Welcome to: You Like and Qalinx.

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Rising to a New Level as a Blogger

I've been attacked!

I'm so excited!

In my reading about blogging, I've often run across the suggestion that an ambitious blogger post an attack on someone well-known to create some controversy.

So I attacked Sarah Palin--with total sincerity--but didn't see my star rise any higher as a result.

Now, out of the blue, I find that someone named Swan Fungus finds my latest post about setting up my new DVD to be uninspiring.

I believe that this means I'm a celebrity and able to boost the careers of others, which I am happy to do. Add to that the fact that today is my 61st birthday and it's obvious why I'm feeling pretty festive. Gotta think of an extra-bold celebration.

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Small Personal Triumphs

This morning I installed the new DVD player that my husband and I gave each other for Christmas. (It only arrived a couple of days ago; I haven't been procrastinating that long) It was really pretty simple to do; took only about ten minutes from package ripping to hearing the familiar ringing tones of the HBO opening sequence.

But it required venturing into the wiry hell behind our TV. We have cords back there from several earlier generations of add-ons. And tapes and other archaic information forms, as well as the dust to which they returneth.

I waited for a clear head and full daylight to tackle it.

Then presto! the intriguing Gabriel Byrne and the second disc of the series In Treatment burst onto the screen.

Getting that thing working gave me a burst of the "Outward Bound" effect: if I can plug in an electronic device, then by damn I can do most anything.



Welcome to Chic Design and awindyhill!

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The Power of Announcing a Specific Goal

Welcome to Katrina and good luck on your resolution: 30 pounds off in 80 days. http://trina-80days30lbsisitpossible.blogspot.com/.

I think that your announcing your goal as you have is going to help make it happen. I have no doubt about it: you're going to accomplish this. Keep us up on how it goes.

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Boldly Loyal to My Claxton Fruitcake

I adore Claxton fruitcake. Not everyone does. Some of my subtle, understated friends give me a hard time about this preference (also for milk chocolate over the bitter stuff.)

I have boldly refused to back down. This year I was given bars of my favorite cake by both my mother and my friend Carrie. A week and a half after Christmas, I have perhaps a quarter of one of them left.

Why do I love it so? I find it superbly dense and moist and fruity and nutty (70% fruit and nuts)and it has a faintly liqueur-like taste that I love (which probably comes from the orange and lemon included).

Also, if you hold a slice up to the light, it looks like stained glass. Tell me one other cake that can make that claim.


Sticking by my fruitcake publicly is good practice for taking larger stands, I think.

In an earlier post here "Stay Loyal to your Writing Passions", I repeated a story I heard writer Ray Bradbury tell on a crossing on the Queen Elizabeth 2. It was about his going back to the love that had gotten him so much ridicule in fifth grade. It was that enduring interest that made his career and allowed him to do his best work.

I don't know that fruitcake is going to do that for me. But who knows? And, like I say, it's good practice.


I hope you had a good holiday. I've been a nonblogger for two weeks, longest away ever, and I come back much refreshed.

Welcome to Mary, Lori, Muhammad, Harriet, Adityakiran, Edgington, and Shellelori.

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The Home-Made Too-Tall Cheery Tree

Here's the tree I posted about yesterday.

Never said I was a designer, just a lumberjack.

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"Don't Let the Calendar Kick You Around"

This was my brother Franc's tongue-in-cheek advice when I was expressing myself this morning on the seasonal frenzy. He said: "Don't let the calendar kick you around."

Hearing that bold bit of wisdom, I realized I had already taken action to beat the calendar at its game. Bob and I decided this weekend that we'd celebrate our Christmas on New Year's Eve. Two birds with one stone.

If others have ideas about how to dodge the rigid expectations of the Gregorian year, do share.

And welcome to jpartch47, rudaras, and haii.

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One Step at a Time

Alcoholics Anonymous has a bumper-sticker slogan: "One Day at a Time."

Best approach to holidays, in my view, is to have a much shorter term goal: One Step at a Time.

I just now sawed down a Christmas tree (we live in the woods) and hauled it into the house. As is often the case, my eyes were bigger than my den, and I brought in a monster whose top is now bowed by the ceiling at the highest point in the room. I plan to leave it that way. I think it's interesting. Want to argue about it?

At any rate, the Christmas-tree-in-house step is now checked off. And that is rather satisfying. It's also going to be magnificent when I'm done.

Thursday, I went to a 7 person holiday party--my writing group of 27 years--and our leader suggested that we go around the circle and each take a turn griping. It was wonderful, and got into some pretty intimate and interesting and hilarious stuff. I felt we were all closer, and that's what holidays are all about.

A paradoxical approach to holiday joy--I thought it very bold of her to suggest. Though, frankly, when asked to gripe, I had trouble doing it. Finally I managed to say that I'm working too hard; but then blew it by adding that I was enjoying the work.

So anyway, revised secret of holiday happiness: one step at the time with time allowed for complaining. Maybe at that time all the gripes will simply evaporate as mine did.

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Waking Up

Small triumphs are important to acknowledge to ourselves -- and all of cyberspace, of course.

Shining example: I got up this morning in time to get my car to the fixer by 8:45. Usually, I sleep from about 1:30 a.m. to 8:30 a.m.

But maybe rising at 7 doesn't qualify as small; this is probably closer to huge and should be wildly celebrated as such.

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Sailing into Stress-Free Holidays

So how's the holiday prep going? And getting all the work done before daring to take time off? Still staying calm, happy, festive, and organized?

One thing at a time, I tell myself.

I seem to have gotten the idea this year that if I simply buy enough boxes of Christmas cards and sheets of stamps, that my part of the season's festivities will be taken care of. I'll let you know how this strategy works.


Welcome to Jasmine, Izzy Bell, and Thundercloud.

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Psychotherapy at Home

My psychologist husband Bob told me a few weeks ago that he now knew how to help me stop clenching my teeth at night.

Yesterday we took on that project, which involved first about a half an hour interview (what was the most frightening moment in my life? angriest moment in my life? etc) and then about an hour and a half of hypnotic altered state during which I was floating around in my entire history/memory/imagination.

My inner experiences ranged from a fire that occurred when I was ten days old to the current plight of Tiger Woods and a whole lot in between. I won't try to explain all that or burden you with details. But it was one of the most cathartic experiences of my life.

I don't know yet whether I stopped clenching my teeth, since I do it only in my sleep. But time will tell that. And I felt so good this morning that I didn't care about that at all. It was a tremendous lightening for me. And I felt happy with us both. It felt to me like a fairly bold undertaking for him and for me.

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Brava, Paddy!!

In case you're feeling too old for an adventure, check out the salsa of 75 year old Paddy Jones, if you haven't already.

She's dancing on Tu Si Que Vales, a Spanish reality/talent/dancing program.

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Boldly Brunching --and at Length

This morning was the Christmas brunch with five other women I've been getting together with for 34 to 39 years. Always fun and this one for no particular reason was particularly so.

This time instead of getting each other bath products, etcetera, we each gave some money to some good cause. Mine was to pay for all school fees and books for a very underprivileged Indian child for a year.

In spite of having co-authored The Healing Power of Doing Good, I'm not naturally a great do-gooder, much more prone to trying to paddle my own canoe without making trouble for anybody. That has changed some since I collaborated on that book. (We teach what we need to learn.)

And I do have a special interest in India, and was so often surrounded and followed by poor kids there, wanting rupees and to know "what is your country." So I can visualize such a child. And I do find it satisfying, far more so than a more generic "good thing" I might have chosen.

My mother arranged for me to sponsor an Indian child at Christmas one year. I liked that, but didn't feel it as directly.

Anyway, the breakfast was fun -- brie crepes for me -- and I already feel the holiday is well celebrated.

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Boldness and Keeping On

I've been posting less the last few weeks because I've been working extremely hard. Didn't want you to think it was because my boldness was flagging.

I grew up in a retailing family, and December was the time of most intense work; so that feels normal. As a writer/editor/critiquer/consultant, I've found that December is either madly busy or very quiet. People either want things finished by Christmas or they don't have time to get stuff to me until the first of the year. This is one of the busy years, which I prefer.

Writers often like to talk about what a hard line of work we're in: having to figure out how to make money and strive for immortal art at the same time. Once I heard writer Tim McLaurin respond on a panel to a comment about how hard the writing career is. He said, "Well, it is, and so is driving a Pepsi truck, which was what I was doing before."

I've come to think there aren't any smooth and easy lines of work. Which is why we need to keep the boldness muscles toned. As well as the keep-going, resilience muscles. Hats off to all those who are currently in the most intense period of the teaching semester.

Welcome to new regulars, Aimee Westbrook and Sue Ivy.

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Charles Dickens Worries About His Sales

The New York Times City Room blog is carrying a story on Dickens' handwritten revisions of "A Christmas Carol." This post "A Christmas Rewrite" by Alison Leigh Cowan is a companionable reminder that we all have to revise--and Dickens made at least one major after the copy had gone to the printer.

I was mainly struck by the fact that he wrote this lovable classic, about a cold-hearted rich man who turns generous, under financial pressure himself.

"At the time "A Christmas Carol" was written, Dickens feared for his own future. He had six children to feed, a large house in London to maintain and a lavish lifestyle. Christmas was approaching. Yet the work he was then producing, a few chapters at a time, “Martin Chuzzlewit,’’ was not selling as well as earlier installments of “The Pickwick Papers” or “Nicholas Nickleby.” Bitterly, he confided to a friend that his bank account was bare."

He turned out his Christmas story just in time for the season, but in spite of its golden future, it fared dismally financially that year.

Good (emboldening) to remember these stories, especially knowing the happy ending.

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Party Time

My friend Carrie throws more parties in a year than the total number I attend in the same period. (She's the same one who started an international music festival in Raleigh.)

This afternoon I'm popping in at an affair in which she has long been a/the major sponsor: the 17th annual Boylan Heights Arts Walk. It's a neighborhood-wide juried arts fair that draws some quite good artists, including at least one represented in the NC Museum of Art (a very big deal), and a range of fine work in glass-blowing, clothing design, ceramics, photography, cabinetry, basket-making, jewelry, sculpture, weaving. Etc.

Who wouldn't go to this, you say?

Alright, I'm going at least this one more time, even though it's forty minutes from my house and I've been half a dozen years before and my leisure time impulse is usually to stay home and read and weed (or rake). And I'll have a good time and probably pick up a Christmas present or two.

But I'm still an introvert! Even though I talk a lot and spill a great deal! And that's okay!

At least it's not raining.


And welcome to Aysha Nasser, photographer and sometime student of Hindi. Is there anyone I've forgotten to welcome to the regulars club here? Let me know and I'll say a double welcome.

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An Encouraging, Emboldening Movie for Writers and Other Passionate Persisters

I was slow to go to see Julie and Julia. I'm not a cook. And the movie is, as you likely know, about a blogger named Julie who spends a year cooking every recipe in Julia Child's grand-opus cookbook.

But last night it was on at the $1.50 theatre, and Husband Bob (who is a sometime cook)and I went. And I am so glad I saw it.

It's an extraordinary movie. It shows the writing/publishing process as well as I've seen a movie do it. Even though it collapses and summarizes the years and stages involved, it's true to the difficulties and triumphs. When Julia Child finally gets her first copy of her first book in hand, I felt more intense emotion, (seemingly) on her behalf than in comparable moments in my own life.

There's a reason it was purer joy for J. Child. The movie--thank God!--didn't show all the correcting of proofs and bound galleys, etc. that come before that point. So her book seemed to rise full-blown from her manuscript.

Still...the heart of the matter was there. As well as a demonstration of her long struggle and tenacity and passion.

I was dripping tears in the theatre. And, though maybe there's no connection, tripped just outside afterwards and fell to the pavement like a rag doll. Wasn't hurt or troubled by this, and didn't bother to jump right up either. Just let Bob haul me to my feet and went on with whatever I'd been saying.

At any rate, it was all very cathartic and I felt so proud of both Julie and Julia and of all of us.

And that includes new regulars here: Hidup Lenang, annakate, and Mikki Aby. Welcome!

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Getting Rich

I just wrote a perfectly nice post on this subject with lots of links, hit Publish, and the text disappeared totally, nowhere to be found.

Here's roughly what it said. The Dallas Morning News has a story today that says: Wanna feel rich? Give.

The story cited the book I co-authored with Allan Luks: The Healing Power of Doing Good, which says that helping other people feels good and is good for your health. And you don't even have to be super-bold to do it.

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