Happy Busy Day!

I have officially hit the ground running. My classes have started, I'm thick into THREE novels right now--one for book group, one for pleasure, one for a fellow writer (and pleasure). I have another writer's novel waiting, and then my own (third) novel to revise by the end of the month. 

Whew! Thank goodness I only have two classes right now! And they are promising to be wonderful--great students, enthusiasm, intelligent discussion. I can't wait to see how both classes progress. 

I hope your days are as exciting and busy! Or at least as exciting! I have lots to do, but I find myself doing it joyously. All I can do is wish the same for all of you.

Wasting Time

I took off for my playwriting rehearsal this afternoon, looking forward to centering myself a little around writing and theatre. I reached the theatre ahead of time, pulled out a book to read until everyone else arrived, and waited. 

No one came. I'm still not sure when the rehearsal was supposed to be (I was told 2 p.m.), but since I live nearly an hour from the theatre (and am now home, after waiting there for over half an hour), I won't be driving back for the staged reading tonight. In fact, with all the driving, I spent about 2 1/2 hours--no, wasted 2 1/2 hours--doing absolutely nothing. 

I cannot express how frustrated I am at this moment--although the impact of it is already beginning to fade--frustrated enough to question my involvement in what is otherwise a fantastic playwriting group. They are one of the best writing groups of any kind I've found over the years, and I'm lucky to be involved with them. Really.

But I hate wasting time. And gas. In those 2 1/2 hours I could have read another most of my best friend Cherilyn's novel. I could have finished Susan Cooper's fifth of five books Silver on the Tree. I could have finished Crystal's painting for her room. 

Then again, not going to the performance tonight has freed up quite a bit of time, too. Sure, I'll miss what is likely to be a fine reading, but perhaps I'll get to all those other things, and more.

See, all it takes is a bit of a perspective shift to end my whining. I'm off to read/edit/paint/etc. Hope you're making the fun use of your time, too!

Ten Years Ago

It's not my tendency to look into the past, except in my novels, but my husband does it. He pointed out, too, that ten years ago was a bit of a parallel to last night. Ten years ago we were at the Millennium Celebration at Walt Disney World, watching Tinkerbell fly up to the castle before fireworks went off. And we were childless. I had just miscarried, and though my body had recovered, I was still devastated by the loss. Yet only three months later, right around my birthday, I would conceive my daughter. Now she has just turned nine, and last night, as my husband and I thought back to that time ten years ago, she and her brother watched Tinkerbell on DVD. 

Full circle. So much change, so much that stayed the same. 

I wonder what will happen in the next ten years. This time ten years from now, Crystal will likely be through her first semester of college (or hairdressing school, or something else, if she decides she's not ready for college yet). Richard and I will be wondering how we will afford college for both her and Brandon. I hope we're still married. I hope we're still happy. We've been happy for nearly 21 years now. Is 31 years in our future? 

Honestly, I can't predict anything. All I know is now. 

I'd be willing, ten years from now, to look back. But only for a moment. I don't have time to wallow in it, even the good stuff.

One thing I can guarantee is that, if I'm still alive, I'll still be working at something. And that's the best future I can imagine.

Now, though, laundry needs doing, and Brandon needs the toaster. And I have a novel to revise. Today is all that matters.

Resolutions

Walking Man is right to ask "What New Year?"... after all, few of us are changing jobs (except you, Amanda!), or moving, or truly changing anything. 

I know what will happen, though. Millions of us will "resolve" to do this year differently. Suddenly, instead of the YMCA being mostly empty in the evenings, it will be so packed that I can't find a parking space, can't get into the zumba class, can't even find a stupid treadmill or square of clear space to stretch out on, etc.

(I've actually dropped my membership for the next few months, for that very reason. Why pay for something I can't even use?)

A bunch more people will drink themselves into oblivion tonight, "resolving" to do better January 1, like that is some magical stamp which will enable them to somehow change who they are and what they do from what they have always been and always done. Will it work? 

Have you ever known it to work? Has it ever worked for you?

Can anyone, through sheer will power, change who one is? If a person hates exercise, January 1 isn't going to magically change that. If one loves cheesecake or ice cream enough to gain 40 lbs. last year, a great January filled with good choices is not going to lose the 40 lbs., and even if it does, without real everyday change, that weight will come back on. 

Yes, I want to do this year better. I would love to be published, and I'll only get there if I send my stuff out (and work on it a whole lot more than I did last year). I'm months from turning 40, and I've always worked under the shadow of losing precious time. But I can't resolve to send out something new every day, or write for at least an hour every day, or exercise every day, or be a good mom every day. I can promise to eat every day, but sometimes that's all I ever get done.

My resolution? Live every day. If that means writing, then it does. If that leads to exercise, all right then. If it means singing, great. Painting? Fine, too. But I'm not going to strive for perfection. I'm not going to kick myself over a missed opportunity. I won't regret. 

And I won't resolve this year. Today is all I'm concerned with. Just today.

I know my thoughts of future goals will creep in. They always do. I don't have to fear that I will let the world go completely, not meet my obligations, and not get things done. I am incapable of laziness. But I'm tired of worrying. I'm tired of looking back and seeing all I haven't yet gotten done. I'm sick of being disappointed in myself. 

Okay, perhaps, despite all my best efforts, I've unwittingly resolved something (darn it!). Still, I won't worry about that. I'm off to live today. Hope you do the same.

Hidden

HIDDEN

More than a domestic goddess

Able to refinish furniture

Bake anything

Tile bathroom floors

No

She, the stylish

Flirtatious dancing goddess

Graceful, loving,

Full of passion

Yet to most, her truest essence

Hidden.

 

Not nearly

Boring

Even if his shy eyes

Suggest he has nothing to say

Inside his brain’s a

Deep cavern of experience

Of wisdom

Seeing the world as only a few

Old souls perceive it

Rich, intelligent,

But to all his friends

Hidden.

 

While others click their tongues

And say, “Poor thing,”

She seethes inside with life

And art and music

Dismissed by all

She paints in private,

Writes and dances

Late into the night

Driven to create

But certain to keep each effort

Hidden.

 

And so we go

Misunderstood and overlooked

Each one

Capable

Creative

In tune with the magic of the earth

Yet silent in a crowd

Keeping all beneath our surface

Playing safe

Afraid of what will happen

If even once we do not keep

Who we are

Hidden.

The Five Senses of Christmas

Now that the remains of my daughter's cookie party are almost gone (can you sense my relief?), the Christmas cards have all been sent, the shopping is done, and only five presents have not yet been wrapped and put under the tree, I can sit back and just enjoy the season.

Actually, I've been enjoying the season all along, with all of my senses. I've written several entries on description, but Christmas has unique elements all its own. My "Five Senses" list:

Sight: 

  The lit-up Christmas tree. I use all white lights, and my ornaments 

are pretty much cream, gold, and red. Velvet and brocade ribbons, 

gold chains of bells, and gold beads. Of course, I love almost every 

Christmas tree--I just love my own most of all.

Sound: 

  Christmas music. I have everything from grunge rock versions 

to Vienna Choir Boys, John Denver to Nelson Eddy (thanks to my 

sis, who's a big fan of his). I love it all. Only the Chipmunks one 

gets on my nerves.

Taste: Gingerbread is number one, especially with white icing.

Touch: 

  The smoothness of a wrapped package. I try to box everything, 

even clothing, so that the corners are all crisp and the sides smooth. 

And, yes, I stroke them. 

Smell: 

  Scotch tape. Yes, I love the smell of a wood fire, too, but scotch 

  tape reminds me of Christmas in the middle of July. I wrapped 

  presents with my mother when I was a very young kid, and wrapping 

  presents is still one of my favorite activities. That pleases my hubby 

  to no end, too, since it means he doesn't have to.

What are your favorite five sensations of Christmas? Don't be afraid to share!

What "Living in the Moment" Isn't

I posted a few days ago on living in the present--not regretting or glorifying what happened in the past, nor fixating on how things will be different in the future--so as to seek happiness in the ever-present NOW. 

To clarify this a bit, I'd like to take a leaf from the book of Taoism to describe my approach to this form of living. I am by no means an expert, but Taoism, from my reading and experience, suggests a life in which one remains "receptively passive" to the movement or flow of life, and when one acts, it is in accordance with the flow of one's life, and is thus effortless. When one fights against the flow, one finds difficulty, suffering, unhappiness, etc. 

Let me put it in terms of relationships. To live in the ever-present now, one would exist in a way that is most calm and harmonious to one's nature and the nature of others. That does not mean never disagreeing. If, for instance, one's partner is a creep, it may seem more harmonious to shut up about it and take it--whether it be abuse, derision, abandonment, etc. However, it is damaging to oneself, and doesn't go with one's personal needs. Resentment and anger will build until you can't take it anymore, and then the flow of need will cause you to act out eventually.

Living in the moment, in this case, means not resisting the urge to speak up. Resisting the urge is hard, and it hurts the current moment. Instead, one should speak up and say, directly, "When you say this/do this/etc. I feel hurt and ashamed." At the same time, it does not mean bringing up all sorts of past hurts--those are past, and the reason one might be bringing them up is because one has held onto them instead of expressing them when they occur. It's the same with positive elements. When one is happy, one should express so, and share the joy of one's life with others. If another's actions hurt one's flow, by all means one should act to change that flow, even it means leaving. The release I've heard described from this kind of action (leaving a creep) is caused because a major obstruction has been removed.

In terms of money, living in the moment does not mean racking up credit card balances so that one can go on a vacation "now," without consideration for the future debt or insolvency. In fact, I would contend that purchases on credit are actually living in the future, and not the present, for one's subconscious reasoning is that a larger TV, a new dining room set, or a McMansion will make one happier, and it suggests that one is dissatisfied with one's life as it is. Living within one's means is one way of existing within the flow of one's life. Seeking to purchase items one cannot yet afford goes against one's flow. Buying a house and having payments one cannot afford is a gaping example of this, and it does not increase one's happiness (as many thousands of homeowners will attest to). 

Even in terms of food and exercise, living in the moment means paying attention to right now--not one's future goals, but one's eating right at this moment. If I truly live in the now, I eat only when I'm hungry--and I enjoy every tasty morsel of food while I eat it, not working on the computer or watching television while I do it, but savoring everything. It means enjoying my activity--whether walking with a friend or doing zumba or bellydancing--and it means living in that moment happily, without constantly looking in the mirror or stepping on the scale to see whether it's doing any good. If I am only living in the future ("I want to lose 10 pounds") or living in the past ("I don't ever want to be that fat again") I will not be happy now. 

And now is what counts. Past is past, future is future. We can't live in either one. I don't write because I want to get published some day. I write because I love it, and when I do it, I am happy. 

Thoughts? Bones of contention?