Heads or tails? Thoughts on writing...

On my mind:
the snap in the air-- the kind you can taste between your teeth and feel in your nostrils.
Blazing yellow and fire-red leaves, pumpkin spice bread, writing, and Stephen King.

Stephen King, I saw him speak and read the other night here in Boulder to promote his new book Dr. Sleep, the sequel to the Shining. Raw inspiration is the least I can say about him. Some of the greatest stories have come out of this man, and to hear him speak about writing is enough to fuel any fledgling for months, maybe years. This isn't the exact quote from the other night, but it's still a quote of his with the same message (one that we've all heard before most likely):

“If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There’s no way around these two things that I’m aware of, no shortcut.”

He also said something else (I paraphrase)-- "if you aren't compelled to write everyday, then maybe you aren't meant to be a writer, which is fine because it just means you were meant to do something else."

I've been thinking about this last part ever since. Lately, I have been falling into the category of not being "compelled" to write. It's certainly not because I have nothing to write about. It's been the opposite actually. My days have been filled with a variety of things, both terrific and trying, and certainly worth telling. But I've held onto most of it for inexplicable reasons. Maybe it's a privacy reflex--a need to keep things to myself for awhile (that happens periodically I noticed). Or something else. There's a jagged edge that's been gnawing at the fringes lately for awhile. A sobering thought: perhaps I'm not meant to be the writer I once believed I could be.

So perhaps I should just leave it at that. I'm a fair-weather writer and write when the muse sings or when the "genius" arrives, or when I feel like it. No pressure to perform, no blocks to hurl, no deadlines to dread, no insatiable need to leave my pawprint on paper. The truth is, I've never had a gigantic urge to be published. To just be decent was enough, and to have touched a few with the words I share was miles above what I ever expected. 

Or.

Is there a deeper truth? One grafted with "fear of failure" and "insecurity", infecting the growth of bigger dreams? Ego fiddles with my self-assurance, gives me a smirk and tosses me a coin saying "is it heads or is it tails, cause you can't have both." As I clasp my fingers around the coin, I can feel the burning hot truth turn to ash, leaving me still with nothing but a thought.

"I am what I am what I am." ~ Popeye

When I do unravel, when the words flow, they organically wind towards truths that have been haphazardly flung into an ocean filled by time past and present. Once recovered, when the fingers fly and when words collide, writing can unearth hope and possiblity, and plant seeds of courage. Here, writing finds the person I could be and though I admit she scares me, she is the bait that keeps me hungry every single time.

I think what it comes down to is the belief we hold in our hearts, and there are no rules to what we want to believe. Today, I am enough as a writer, and I find hope in words that show up when they feel like it. And every now and then when I cast a line out into the ocean, something special nibbles on the other end, reminding me that the courage to break any walls that stops the flow is out there, whenever I am ready. 

Monday love

xoxo

Diving, for shiny things

I dream of lovely things. I dream of greater certainty, direction, and hope. I dream of passion-filled energy, a forward leaping of the heart that expands so earnestly that it would burst from my chest.

But I am not there yet. Not yet. Today I feel the tightness wrapped around my shoulders and neck. I feel the words tucked under my tongue, locked like a jack-in-the-box surrendered to darkness. I don't know what kind of magic is needed to unlock this flurry, this fury of words that is barricaded deep within my ribcage. I don't know how much passion I must hurl against this locked space to penetrate the walls of ego that seek to only suppress. I would rather speak of shiny things, like the day I spent here only 2 days ago. But if integrity is to prevail, if authenticity is to thrive, I cannot.

The heckler that resides behind my shadowy thoughts is poking fun at the ridiculousness of my willingness to continue to ride these roller coasters, though they make me ill to the bone, though the rises and falls are exasperating, though I feel as if the cart that holds me down will fly off track at any turn. But there is this, always this: I will walk out, just as I had walked in.

I write. I write because it's the only thing I know to do when I feel this way. I write because when my voice shuts down and my tongue hides, the words still must come, more than ever now. They spring from the very well that is parched, cracked and dry, the very space that feels infinitely empty and cloaked in black fog.

I resist the fear to explore the dark. How else are we to know ourselves well enough to expose the traitorous thoughts that binds our ankles and twists our minds? How else are we to unveil the anchors that keep us from soaring deliberately into the brightness of what's yet to come? The darkness does not define, nor does it devour.

So for now, I dive, and when I return, I will speak of shiny things :)....

xoxox

Chances and choices

When we are removed from our everyday, when we are placed in situations that aren't typical, when we are forced to see ourselves differently than what we are accustomed to, we are offered valuable information. An opportunity to consider that there is so much more available to us than we allow ourselves to know. Consumed with our norm, our schedules, our responsibilities, our established roles, we can miss so much. Whether I remember or not, I am given chances everyday to stretch beyond my comfortable boundaries. They come and go so often, it's easy to mistake them for anything else but a gem hidden amongst ordinary pebbles

Going on the Teton's trip as a chaperone was a chance to step outside the roles of mother, wife, caretaker, homemaker, or whatever else I want to call myself. Though my son was on this trip, it was made clear that my role was as chaperone first, not mother, which of course required a conscious effort on my part:). It reminded me of my trip to Squam last year, a scary yet oh so worthy chance at seeing beneath and between the layers of self. The Teton trip helped me remember someone I once was in a different time. It helped me see the children I was chaperoning beyond their roles of student, son/daughter, and friend, enhancing their individualities, their personalities, each with their own hurdles and burdens to overcome. There, with the backdrop that only nature and earth can provide, we were exposed to the rawness and palpability of our spirits. With no familiar schedules, routines, or roles to hide behind, we found new dimensions in ourselves and in each other in those 5 days--dimensions that challenged, lifted, supported, split us apart and then brought us together again. We were changed whether we knew it or not, and we grew closer whether we wanted to or not.

And such are the gifts of chance and choice. I do believe dreams begin this way, when we open ourselves to things that we once deemed improbable, impossible, inconceivable, like hiking the AT trail or playing the banjo. Opportunities come and go, we just need to give ourselves permission to say "yes", "yes" to finding the glimmer that keeps the light of possibility in our eyes. With this, the promise of another gem awaits :)....

much love to you fellow adventurers...

xoxo

Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for a kindness." ~ Seneca

The start of our weekend was spent watching, waiting, and worrying.  With family in Japan ourselves, feelings of helplessness visited us frequently this weekend.  Thankfully, my mother, who has remained calm and positive throughout this ordeal, has inspired and reminded me that tragedies, though devastating, bring us together, and reminds us that we are all connected.  As I write this, there are over 70 countries coming to Japan's aid.  Outpourings of love, well-wishes, prayers, and kindness are coming from all corners of this planet.  So, I chose to turn off the doom and gloom that permeates the networks, and focus on the kindness.  We have said our own little prayers and have chosen to have hope in humanity.  For anyone that wants to help, I have attached a link to Charity Navigator which offers advice as well as a list of respected and safe charities that we can donate to. 

The rest of our weekend brought more uplifting moments.  E. has been training for his yearly run in the Smile Run, and finished beautifully, shaving nearly a minute off last year's time.  Way to go buddy!!

We tended to our garden...



colored birds...


played with moonsand...

and made hoops...

All in all, we did have a beautiful weekend.  Hope you did, too :)...

"Life is mostly froth and bubble,

Two things stand like stone,

Kindness in another's trouble,

Courage in your own."

~Adam Lindsay Gordon