Follow the Joy

 

Looking back at my childhood, I realize I deprived myself of many sources of joy. My sister was four years older than I and was a very talented person, both musically and artistically. I, on the other hand, had a poor ear for music, was left-handed and struggled with my fine motor coordination. Even my mother would say things like, "Don't worry about it. You're such a hard worker and that makes up for a lot." People were always comparing us to each other and I internalized that comparison. No matter what I did, I could never measure up. 

As a result, I steered away from things I loved, things that brought me pure bliss and joy. I could not stop my need for music and pursued it despite my shortcomings, but I turned my back on art and visual expression and never looked back.

Through the years I ended up teaching both music and art in public school. I tried to help kids find the joy in their expression and not to worry about comparisons or competence. It was as much about the process as it was the final product. One day I realized the things I was telling students also applied to me. I needed to move past the feelings of being compared to someone else and being found wanting. I needed to embrace the things that brought me joy and made me whole. 

I posted this little painting, not because it's wonderful, but because I remember the absolute joy I felt while painting it along with my grandkids on an art afternoon in our family. It has some obvious flaws and I wanted those to show, too. We don't need to be embarrassed that our work isn't perfect. When I look at my little painting, I think of the joy, not the mistakes. 

I have many things that bring me joy on a daily basis. I love to write, both poetry and prose. I love to sketch and paint, and enjoy music in its many forms. I enjoy sewing, gardening and cooking. I'm not an expert in any of them, but it doesn't matter That's not the point. The point is that they lift my spirits and bring me joy in my life.

What brings you joy?

Confronting Clutter

Every day we are bombarded by clutter. We live in a period of time when there is just a lot of stuff and every time we turn on the TV, open a magazine or newspaper, or go online we are overwhelmed with advertising to buy more.

My mother was an orphan during the Great Depression. She had nothing. A scrap of paper, the stub of a pencil, a couple of spoonsful of leftover porridge - all was to be used, treasured and saved against a time of want. She taught all of her children well. Do not waste! Gather against a time of need.

The mindset that drives hoarding is fear and anxiety. Feelings of safety and security can come from having stuff. But when you mix yesterday's mindset for dealing with scarcity with today's reality of being bombarded with stuff, it's a recipe for disaster.

Having stuff takes work, and possessions can become an obstacle and a burden. That is the mindset that goes with the minimalist lifestyle. Those who have always had enough are not frightened by having only a little because there is a sense that there will always be more to get when you really need it. 

The current pandemic has stopped us in our tracks. Could we find ourselves without what we need? Loss of health, jobs and income bring back anxiety and an urge to save and collect against a time of want. The long term economic impact of the coronavirus is yet to be understood and it could be represent create systemic poverty for a long time, perhaps we are entering the next Great Depression. 

How are you managing the scarcity or abundance mindset? What strategies are you using to manage the day to day clutter? I'm caught in the middle. If only I had a crystal ball!

When You Pause to Remember

 

My research for Book Three in the Windy Rafters Roughnecks series includes time travel to WW2. I've been thinking a lot the last week or so about the impact of war on those who stayed home. Just as we are all impacted by the pandemic, everyone at the time was impacted by the war. This poem reflects some of my thoughts:

 

When You Pause to Remember

 

When you pause to remember

Remember the ones who stayed home

Who said their goodbye, then, letting tears dry

Counted days until he came home.

 

When you pause to remember

Remember the ones who stayed home

Who stretched out the sugar and butter and meat

Who grew Victory Gardens and vowed no defeat

And believed that it could be done.

 

When you pause to remember

Remember the ones who stayed home

Who raised the kids and cared for the folks

Who kept the fires burning and kept alive hope

Then prayed for the strength to go on.

 

When you pause to remember

Remember the ones who stayed home

Who rolled all the bandages, knit scarves and gloves

Sewed vests and pajamas infused with their love

While thinking of days that were gone.

 

When you pause to remember

Remember the ones who stayed home

Running factories and farms, tired backs, weary arms

Carrying burdens, so often alone.

 

When you pause to remember

Remember the ones who stayed home

Who tried to stand tall when death came to call

And they heard that knock at the door.

 

When you pause to remember

Remember the ones who stayed home

And when he came back, injured or maimed

Haunted by demons that couldn’t be tamed

And they knew it had only begun.

 

When you pause to remember

Remember the ones who stayed home

When they said we had won and the fighting was done

But their sorrow and pain lingered on.

The Tortoise or the Hare?

Are you living life as the tortoise or the hare? I am constantly challenged by this, especially in my writing life. I like to think of myself as being more like the tortoise, having a quiet, uneventful routine and structure to my days. But when I get flashes of creative insight, I have to admit I'm off like the hare. I have a vision in mind and and I see the finish line beckoning me. Sometimes these creative stints can leave me exhausted and depleted.

Here are some examples. When I'm working on smaller pieces like this blog or my instagram stories, I think about them during the day or the week and write a little each day. This is easy to fit into my daily schedule without creating too many wrinkles for myself or others.

When I am preparing to write a book, I can be like the tortoise. I do a lot of reading, research and thinking. As I let all of that information just sit and percolate, somehow it reorganizes itself in a myriad of ways. I know I have to take time and process everything I've been learning before I start writing. If I try to push it into a structure prematurely, I'll end up frustrated and stuck. When I wait, I start to get new insights about how the setting, my characters and the plot events will contribute to the themes of the book and the story starts to take shape.

Then suddenly I'm ready to write and I'm off like the hare. Writing the first draft is an intense and all encompassing experience. The ideas, the characters and plot are burning to come to life on the page. They nudge and push at me. I write feverishly trying to get it all down. During this phase of the writing, I often get sudden flashes of ideas to take the story in a new direction. Usually these are productive. Sometimes they're not. I can't put this writing into my regular routine. It just doesn't work for me. During this time, it is hard to focus on anything else.

Once the story is down in some form, I can finally relax and resume working as the tortoise. Little by little and day by day I work and rework the material, sometimes making minor changes and sometimes deleting or adding whole scenes or chapters. Then I rework it again and again. It usually takes several revisions.

I'm almost at the end of my research for book three in my children's historical fiction series. I'm really getting ready to take off like the hare, but I'm feeling held back by a number of other responsibilities and practical considerations. Is there some way I can learn to write the first draft more like a tortoise? I'm not sure... If you don't hear anything from me for a while, you know the hare is off on a writing spree!