The Art of Waiting Patiently

A recent game I tapped into on Yahoo Games had a cute message as it loaded up:

"i am somewhat impatient, but i know that the game will be loaded soon"


It made me think so much of my own life--well, two aspects of it, anyway. You see, all my life I've been struggling with my weight. I could never fit into my older sister's hand-me-downs as a kid (and that was pointed out quite often, given our financial hardship), and even now, as a Zumba Fitness instructor and careful eater, I still have trouble losing a pound. My husband gives up desserts and loses ten pounds without really thinking much about it. He admits he would have given up years ago if he'd seen as little progress as I have in trying to lose weight.

Yet I've seen the same sort of success in my writing. (Translation: not bloody much). I've sent out tons of queries and received nearly as many rejection slips (nearly as many only because many agents and publishers don't send replies if they don't like something). Not a single request for more material. My plays have been only slightly more successful, only because I've been pretty lucky to find places where I can do a staged reading or get some great feedback.

So why do I do this? People have asked me why I don't just give up. Why continue to do Zumba if it doesn't make the pounds drop off the way it seems to for everybody else? Why keep writing if I don't sell any novels?

I see the rational basis for this. It is logical. But it errs because it's based on an assumption which simply isn't true: it assumes I do these two things only because of the outcome I'm hoping for.

I know many who do. I know all sorts of people who try Zumba--or vegetarianism, or some diet fad--only because of the outcome they hope for. I know writers who are only concerned with completing a novel so that it can be marketed.

They and I do not work towards the same ends. Or perhaps, for me, the ends simply aren't as important as the act of doing. Why do I do Zumba? Because I adore Zumba. It is more fun than I have doing any other physical activity. It fills me with joy, fosters in me a belief in my own beauty and sexuality, frees me like nothing else does. The act itself is fantastic, no matter its outcome.

The same goes for writing. I don't write to finish. The process is what matters. Writing is my therapy, my shy chance to speak, the who I am in a long list of whats. It's part of my chromosomal make-up, and the only frustrating parts of it include not making enough time for it and not being as good a writer as I would like. But writing is bliss. Sheer bliss.

I suppose the title is a lie, then. I don't have to be patiently waiting for the outcomes I would love to happen. I'm delirious in the moment, charged with energy and elated by the passion of these two activities. I'm not really waiting patiently for anything. It's already here.

Where do you find your joy? Do you hold onto this, or does the outcome matter more?

Self-Pep-Talk

Don't like the way you look? Think your stomach is flabby? Don't like pinching yourself into your jeans every morning? Well, DO something about it. Eat right, exercise, and get yourself in shape. Or buy bigger jeans. Problem solved.

Don't like that your novel isn't finished? You know the answer to this one: WORK on it. It won't get done if you spend the day watching infomercials, sweeping, playing games, or whining to nine friends on Facebook that it isn't done yet. For God's sake, write!

When you don't like the way you smell, you take a shower. When you're hungry, you get something to eat. You pay bills on time, you wash the dishes when they fill the sink. You get the kids to bed when it's time. You do daily stuff like clockwork. You handle all sorts of crappy little chores beautifully, checking them off your list one by one almost as fast as you can write them. Sure, some of your problems may take a bit more work, but that's just it--they take WORK.

So quit your whining, self, and get out there and do the work. You have time. You got the whole day. And tomorrow--don't forget you have tomorrow, too. Get it done.

Happily Making Do

It seems that life never gives one exactly what one desires. For instance, this morning, after being away from my home for THREE weeks, the number one thing I wanted to do is get to the Y and do my beloved Zumba. 

But then my kids, worn out from their time at Grandma's, slept until nearly nine a.m. Only a half hour to get them ready! And both wanted to wear their new tennis shoes... must get them laced, de-tagged, etc. And breakfast--almost forgot about that.

We were going to be late... but only by a few minutes. But then, oh no, where are the YMCA ID cards? I'm sure I put them in a "safe place" before I left, so I'd remember where to find them. Yes, by now the irony is killing me. Then, a solution: I'll just show them my drivers license (it's worked before). 

But then, the insurmountable obstacle: no keys. You see, I left my car and other keys behind when I left for Houston, and they have yet to return to my purse (darn!). I could walk to the Y, but the Zumba class would be more than half over by the time I got there... and the kids would be whiny (it's about a mile and a half to get there). So that was a deal breaker.

You might think this is the Whining Blog... but it isn't. What did we do? Well, my daughter is restarting her Wi Fit this morning instead, and then we are going to put our little Zumba/Bellydancing jinglebelts (are they called sashes?) on and DANCE, DANCE, DANCE!

I have to remind myself sometimes that it takes far more energy to whine about a problem than it does to solve the problem. Problem solved! 

(Maybe I should take a picture of the jinglebelts so you can see what they look like!)

A Be Happy Day

Last night on the telephone, my husband called himself "lazy." Now, while there certainly are days when my husband does absolutely nothing but eat and watch football all day (and those days are coming up, since football season has begun), he called himself this after spending about 4 hours or so exercising--after work. It seems after going to the gym for about TWO HOURS he decided to put in some more effort running up and down a hiking trail to some falls near our home. These falls--Wallace Falls--are really spectacular, but even getting to the bottom falls (the lowest of the three hiking areas) takes about an hour... and he ran up to the third landing--the Upper Falls--and back down in about two hours total. 

And yet, after all that, he called himself lazy. 

Only the lord knows what he's looking at when he examines his day... and it reminds me of how typical it is for us to see the hole in our own beings--however small it is--and blast it out of proportion so that we can still think ill of ourselves. I can lose 90 lbs., yet still criticize myself for the tummy bulge I will always have. I once complimented a coworker of mine, a woman who was always gracious, always perfectly dressed, always beautifully put together. I told her how wonderful she looked--how wonderful she always looked, and she replied, "If only I could lose these last ten pounds." 

What the hell was she talking about? I wondered, skimming over her 5-foot-2, 100-pound frame. And yet this was what she was thinking. 

In graduate school it was the same: fellow students who received a test back and obsessed about the five points they'd missed, not the 95 points they'd managed to get. We are too hard on ourselves, too quick to judge ourselves to find the flaws.

Yet, I suppose, another alternative isn't so great, either (and you know this kind of person, too): This one is so busy finding the mote in other's eyes, so to speak, that he can't see the huge log sticking out of his own. Easy to feel good about one's self when one sees the rest of the world as so comparatively imperfect. 

I have a solution to all of this, though--it's one I work at for myself, at least, and it makes me much happier. I was reminded of it while checking e-mail this morning, for my daily astrology reading (through MSN) told me to keep being nice, to spread my joy and kindness around, since I was one of the sources of kindness remaining in the world (or roughly that, since I didn't save the reading). Here's my joy to share: You are a great person, as am I, and the more we concentrate on our talents, our inner joy, and what we do have, what we do well, the happier everyone will be. Instead of picking at yourself all day (or others, though you probably don't know who you are if you do that), find the all the good you can today. Write it down, if you have to, if the happy thoughts won't stick in your head for longer than a moment. 

Now, once the day is done, come back and share what you noticed. Spread your own happiness around a bit. I'll let you complain another day, but not today. 

Busy, Busy, Busy

I'm so busy, 

My head is spinnin'

Like a whirlpool

It never ends...

I just received official notification of my workload. Starting in mid-August, I'll begin FOUR (yes, I said four) online courses, all with new preparations (none that I've taught before), and I'll pick up another course (one I've taught MANY times at the same campus) in late September. Everything is a bit staggered once it gets going, though, for two of the online courses will end in late October, and the other two (plus the later face-to-face class) will end in December. 

Lots of work. But it's all good news, all of it. My kids will start school after Labor Day (yes, here in Washington schools actually wait until then), and I'll spend my days working on the classes so that I can spend my evenings working with them on homework, playing games, reading, and other fun stuff. I'm even considering waiting to do Zumba until the evenings so that my kiddoes can come with me and exercise, too. (This past year, I went to the YMCA in the mornings, after my daughter was in school, so she hardly ever got to go).

But, at last, my semester is defining itself. No more limbo for me! 

Now if I can just get one college to send me my textbooks, I will be ecstatic! I'm going to e-mail them again, right now!