Tag Archives: motivation

GENTLY DOWN THE STREAM WITH ALICE

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Groundhog_Day_(movie_poster)

Image from wikipedia.org

Some mornings I feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, waking up to the same morning day in and day out.  The unchanging greyness frightens me in the first moment of wakefulness.  Have you ever experienced that?

The thing not to do is to dawdle in bed, but I do.  The greyness holds me there.  I am unwilling to touch the cold floor of reality and face the day.  I’ve been here before many times.  I know that the moment my feet hit the ground, the feeling will dissipate.  No, it does not magically evaporate.  I have to assist its departure.  How?

Getting out of bed is the first hurtle.  The rest follows:  I get up, dress up and show up at my desk.  I put one letter, one word….any letter, any word and start.  Things happen when you move.  That is the law of life.  It is not rocket science, as they say.  Don’t you just hate cliches?  I’m past the hurtles and I am sitting here, tap, tapping out the words.  I hope for magic today. I want to feel the words tumbling off my fingertips like water rippling over the rocks in the river.  The sound of the keyboard is music to my ears.  I see the stream of words floating gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily life is but a dream.

IMG_1089I’m rowing my own boat, steering, pushing it towards my  destination.  You have to have a little bit of oomph to get over rough spots. The weather changes and the water can get rough.  A life jacket is a must.  A rope or two can be useful.  You can never tell.  It’s best to have some tools on hand.

The weather has changed.  The sky is steely grey.  I feel the ghost tiptoeing on my grave. It is alright.  I am well acquainted with him. He cannot hurt me.  I breathe and drop the other shoe.  There are no explosions of catastrophe.  The quietness of a Saturday morning presides.

I am safe in my home, in my own skin.  I am the captain of my spirit.  I get to change the direction in which I travel.  The sky is grey.  Autumn leaves of orange and gold are floating past my window.  They are whispering and teasing me with their graceful dancing movements.

“Come with us.  Come with us”.

Image from google.ca

Image from google.ca

Perhaps today would be a good day to explore – to travel down Alice’s rabbit hole.  Would I find her Wonderland?

I stepped inside the book yesterday just for 15 minutes.  I fell down the tunnel with Alice and landed on top of a bundle of twigs and leaves.  We chased after the white rabbit and came to a hall full of locked doors.

We found a magic key that opened a door. We still could not get in, of course.  It’s not that simple.  If it was, that would be the end of the story.  There would be no Alice in Wonderland.  Life is like that too.  It has many corridors with many locked doors, all posessing different codes.  You need the right combination to unlock each.

I had to leave Alice swimming in the puddle of her tears, wondering how she was going to get into that Wonderland.  I will find another 15 minutes to be with her today.  It is an intriguing story.  It has grabbed the child in me.  That’s what good stories do.  I’m learning the process.

 

SOME INSTRUCTIONS ON WRITING AND LIFE

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I’m feeling the pain more than the gain.  Perhaps that’s how it is at first.  I’m exercising my stay-with-it muscle.  I’m taking my writing seriously for the first time.  First I take the writing.  Then I will tackle the art.  Who knows how far I can go.  If I don’t succeed, try and try again.  I am full of clichés this morning.

Image from google.ca

Image from google.ca

Perhaps I should not try to be so clever.  I feel I’m blocking myself in already.  It’s a good thing my own copy of Anne Lamott’s “Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and  Life” is on the way from Amazon.  I need help on both.

Her voice is one that you can’t help but hear.  It is an excellent reference and such a pleasure to read.  I tell everyone who is interested in writing about it.  I talk about Anne Lamott and her writing alot.

She came to mind again yesterday when I was digging through my cedar chests, looking for a cross-stitch of teddy bears I had done many years ago.  I found everything, mostly unfinished projects, except that.  Among the stuff these squares showed up:

They almost ended up in the trash.  I did throw out the little cutout pieces, thinking I will never have the time or patience to work on them again.  I had to rescue them when I opened these folded squares of cloth.  Their beauty took my breath away.  It was as if I’ve found parts of myself that I had misplaced.

Lamott is right.  There’s treasures hidden among our mess and clutter.  Use it and whatever angst that’s gnawing your butt.  They are fodder to fuel our creative souls.  If you’re lonely and have worries, don’t run away from those feelings.  Use them.  You could have written a song like Downtown.

Or penned a poem like Mary Oliver’s Wild Geese.

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it love
Tell me about your despair and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Who knows?  You could have – if you pick up that pen and start.  So go ahead, start.

Someone is calling me about breakfast and something about not enough clean plates.  He is supportive in my writing endeavours.  I have warned him that I might be a little distracted and absent minded in the next while. Sometimes the sandwiches will not have lettuce.  You have to tell the person you’re living with what you are planning and what to expect.

Today is a better day.  There will be spagetti with fresh homemade tomatoe meat sauce – a break and a reward for days of plain old sandwiches without lettuce.  But first Sheba needs her walk.

MY LITTLE SISTER

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Maidstone xmas

Here I am with my little sister on our first Christmas in Canada.  She was two and I nine.  The years flew like lightning.

Now we are grown, she a pharmacist and I, a retired nurse.   Though I’m the elder, I still consult her on things like my blood pressure.  ‘ If you drop 20 pounds’,  she said.

Drop 20 pounds!  Those were the right words.  The first 6-8 pounds came off in a few weeks.  Now I am at a standstill.  Still I am pleased.

I have more pounds to go.   I can get there now without my little sister kicking my butt.