This year, my friends, Stephen and Karen, handed me a rectangular box. I opened it to find a beautiful leather-bound journal for me to use during this trip to Bolivia. Karen said, “I hope you like it. I know these days people use computers . . .”

But no, it was the perfect personal thoughtful gift.

Like many writers, I write all my first drafts by hand. And I spend time every morning sitting in the La-Z-Boy writing in notebooks as I look out the window at life in my neighbourhood.  The best writing—the really good stuff—comes through my hand first. And every time I go on a significant trip, I keep a handwritten journal.

When I finish writing this post, I will take up a pen and write. In another 20 years, my impressions, my thoughts, my memories, and my experiences as a member of a Habitat for Humanity team will be accessible to me, no matter how much technology changes.

Thanks, Stephen and Karen.

When I planned this trip months ago I did so with few concerns or worries, but this past week, I have found myself dreaming up every possible “What if” nightmare scenario. As the trip approaches I have been very creative in coming up with worries about every possible thing (maybe even some impossible ones) that could go wrong. I focused on the worries, and not on the goal or my reasons for doing the trip in the first place.

So it was with perfect timing that I came across this piece by artboy68 (who created the sketch in my previous post). On January 1, 2012 he posted the following as a kick-off to the new year. It was the reminder I needed to keep my eyes forward.

Keep your eyes forward

© Scott Hamilton, artboy68

1991:  After spending a long day travelling over unbelievably rough roads and seeing wild Karabair horses running free on the northern Uzbek steppe, I found myself in a strange world walking with a strange man who speaks no English toward the shore of Lake Aldar-Kul, nestled between Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan.  The lake proved to be only waist deep, covered with reeds as far as the eye can see, but produced fish for this camp as large as sharks.

The man’s name was affectionately coined as Kutchkar, which we were told means goat, and his eyes were as kind as his soul, which made it uncommonly easy to communicate even though we shared no common language. He was taking me to share a tradition that was as refreshing in body as it was in the fellowship that resulted:  a mudbath on the shore of the lake, followed by some time in the steam hut, after which a self-inflicted flogging with stinging nettles across the back ensued.  ”For good circulation,” was the implied reasoning.

Seeing me looking down and struggling to walk along the gravel road in my bare feet, Kutchkar touched my arm and pointed to his eyes, then to the horizon ahead.  I understood:  don’t look down.  I straightened up, put my eyes forward and began to walk with confidence.

As unimportant as this little exchange would seem, it has become one of the most memorable moments for me of my time in that place.  Why?  Because that lesson becomes more significant to me as each year passes:  to look straight ahead, and keep your eyes on the destination.  It’s a philosophy I am repeating more and more these days- not to go around the mulberry bush, but go through it.  If you have a specific goal, take the most direct path to it, not wavering to the left or to the right.

Distractions abound; once in a while a potential opportunity might feel golden, only to realize upon closer examination that it’s simply a rabbit trail- a deviation from the ultimate goal or an investment with minimal or no return that will only prolong the journey.  These are moments to consult the map and make sure you’re on the right road.  Not to say that we shouldn’t enjoy the surprises that life can bring;  success in life should certainly include a sense of adventure.  Compromise in the right places, and keep your compass with you.

When setting goals, like so many of us do with each renewal of the passing years, keep it simple.  And remember that nothing is achievable without sacrifice.  I have specific goals for this year, and I know that I won’t reach them without discipline and dedication.  It will take time from other things, and I know there will be times that I will just have to push through doubt, disappointments and multiple failures.  To fail to try is the only sure-fire way to not find your destination.

So when the distractions come, and they will, be firm in your walk.  Don’t stray from the map.  The key is in keeping your eyes forward;  like walking in your bare feet.

© artboy68

http://artboy68.wordpress.com/2012/01/01/keep-your-eyes-forward/

“An artist is someone who makes art.” —David Charles Hamilton

This sketch of my profile picture was prepared by artboy68, a.k.a. Scott Hamilton.

A few months ago he took on the task of creating 100 portraits of people’s profile pictures in 20 weeks. I am number 71, so there are 70 other examples of his sketches available to see at http://artboy68project.wordpress.com/. And check out his painting Torso in 2 Colours. Simply stunning.

 I signed up to receive his posts by email, and I am always intrigued to see the people who come into my Inbox from him. Each person has something on their site that makes me say, “Huh. That’s interesting.”

artboy68 attracts intriguing people.

I get a lot of comments on my profile picture. Traditionalists think I should have a regular “head shot.” A straight-on, by-the-book portrait. People with trust issues think I should have a picture without sunglasses. “I don’t trust people if I can’t see their eyes,” they say.

But I’m not changing my picture for traditionalists with trust issues. First, I just love the picture, and I think it says everything you need to know about me. My husband took the photo. I am looking over my shoulder, smiling and happy. That the picture is taken by someone I love just comes through. And I’m sitting in a baseball diamond in the sunshine holding my dog.

This photo says, “I am loved, I love sports, I love sunshine, and I love dogs.” What else would you need to know?

“It came unbidden,” she said.

 As she wrote the scenes, her rational brain tried to intervene. “Put in a narrator,” it proposed, logically. But the ink from the pen just wouldn’t take that shape.

JC described an experience shared by creators over the centuries. Artists like Michelangelo, William Blake and Stephen King all said the work comes through them, not from them.

When I hear artists, writers, poets, or any creator speak about how work comes to them “unbidden,” I pay attention.

And when I look closely at what flows through them, I invariably find that it touches on a life truth in a deep and meaningful way. JC’s play is about a boy who watches his grandmother with Alzheimer’s change from a world traveller and cookie baker to someone who cannot remember his name. For two years JC has been visiting schools, care facilities and festivals sharing the story and encouraging kids and families to talk about a life truth in a deep and meaningful way.

Take some time to notice the next time you hear someone say that a painting, sculpture, story, or poem came unbidden. Look for the life truth, and be grateful that the artist was willing and able to shut out that rational mind long enough to be a channel for something meaningful.

Tune in on Tuesday, January 17, at 1:00 p.m. (EST) to hear JC and Dr. Gordon Atherley discuss how What My Grandma Means to Say, the play and the storybook, can enable family discussions about Alzheimer’s disease and related forms of dementia.   
http://www.voiceamerica.com/episode/58907/what-my-grandma-means-to-say.

The people at Open University tell the animated tale in 60 seconds. And it’s funny, too.

http://youtu.be/d1tn56vWU_g

When you do not know what you are doing and what you are doing is the best, that is inspiration.
 —Robert Bresson

What an exciting game.

My son’s team battled hard. The score went back and forth. When his team scored a goal, the other team tied it up. When the other team scored a goal, his team tied it up. In the dying seconds of the game, my son’s team had the puck in the opposition end. They peppered the goalie with shot after shot. The seconds ticked down, but the goalie stopped every puck. Finally, the puck rebounded off his pads out to one of our forwards who flicked the puck past the goalie’s right shoulder. When I glanced at the clock, it showed 0.4 seconds remaining in the game. They won, by that much.

An hour later, I was at a Christmas social. Although I felt perfectly well, I noticed that my throat was hurting. I knew I wasn’t coming down with anything, so I asked myself, “Why is my throat so sore?” I realized that during that exciting hockey finish I must have been screaming my head off.

I could not remember doing this at all.

In the final seconds of the game I was so ”in the moment” that I completely forgot myself. I wondered what other things my body had been doing that I was unaware of during that time. Did I stand up? Wave my arms? Clap? I don’t remember. What did I look like to other people? 

It was like I stepped outside of my body for a time. I was “beside” myself. And it was exhilarating. Even the tense moments before the winning goal felt electric as they crackled with potential. 

Why is it that during some of the best times in our lives, we’re  “beside” ourselves?

When we lose ourselves in an activity we’re passionate about, we forget ourselves and hours pass unnoticed. We’re so inspired that our body goes into auto-pilot while the very essence of ourselves takes over.

What makes you forget yourself? What draws your essence to the surface and sets your body to the side?

“You know, they straightened out the Mississippi River in places, to make room for houses and livable acreage. Occasionally the river floods these places. “Floods” is the word they use, but in fact it is not flooding; it is remembering. Remembering where it used to be. All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was.”  ― Toni Morrison

I found this quote on the Wise Living blog of Tara Sophia Mohr.

She invites us to ask ourselves if there are “rivers” we have straightened in our lives. What have we ”changed from its natural form to accommodate practical realities or other people’s agendas?”
 
If you have changed things in your life from their natural form, can you feel the yearning to return to a natural state? If so, maybe you can put a little bend back in the river before there is a “flood.”

Wednesday Book Review—Evolutionary Enlightenment: A New Path to Spiritual Awakening

 “You see, the big bang is not just a metaphor or a disputed scientific theory about what occurred fourteen billion years ago. It’s happening right now. Something is coming from nothing every second.”  
 —Andrew Cohen

Today’s post is courtesy of Tudor Robins, who blogs about her writing life at www.tudorrobins.ca.

It’s an excellent way to kick off a new year.

When are you going to start living your life?

© 2012 Tudor Robins

I was reading a blog the other day in which the writer had posted a list of “Some day” plans. For example, “Some day I will learn to play the bag pipes,” and “Some day I will travel to Nunavut,” and “Some day I will organize the kitchen drawer into which I throw miscellaneous stuff.” I made those up, but you get the drift. In the comments section other people then started revealing their “some days” and most of them were along those lines.

One, however, said “Some day I will spend more time with my kids.”

You know that ripping sound a vinyl album used to make if you stopped it mid-song (anyone? anyone?). Well, my brain did that. For those of you not aware of the above-mentioned sound I’m afraid there’s no digital equivalent so just think squealing brakes as a rather faint approximation.

Anyway, I found myself thinking – not for the first time – when are you going to start living your life?

Because, newsflash, life is happening. And not just your life. Your kids’ lives, your spouse’s life, your best-friend-from-high-school’s life. All these lives are happening and, even if you have a “some day” in mind, there’s no guarantee they have that same day in mind, nor is there much chance at all that fate is also working towards that day.

So, spend time with your kids now. Please. Start being nice to your husband today (by the way, “being nice” isn’t a euphemism; I really do mean treat him like a friend but if you also want to start “being nice” to him more regularly, I’m sure he’d appreciate it). Call up people you’ve missed – or use Facebook, whatever, you know I’m not on it.

My point is, some things you just have to do now. And I know, very often, people think they’re doing the right thing by not doing those things now. They think “if I work harder now, I’ll have more money and we can buy a cottage and the whole family will have more time together.” Yes, but when? When the kids have boyfriends and girlfriends and part-time jobs and – I’m sorry to say it, but I remember my own teenage years – would rather work an eight-hour shift for minimum wage at Second Cup than go to the cottage with you for the weekend?

And lest you wonder what I’m going on about? and isn’t this a writing blog? and how does any of this apply to writing? I’m going to tell you now.

You won’t get any writing done if you don’t start writing. Sounds like stupid advice from a stupid person, I know, but it’s true. And not only will you get no writing done, your writing won’t get any better, you won’t make any progress and, if publishing is your aim, you won’t be any closer to that. So when are you going to start living your writing life?

Now, don’t get me wrong, the first thing I told you to do is spend time with loved ones. Please do not decide to start writing an hour a day instead of hanging out with your kids. Your kids are growing up and going somewhere; your writing isn’t (especially if you don’t use it – oh, that was mean).

However, what I am saying is re-evaluate. Organize. Prioritize. I went to this indescribably horrible presentation when I was a sales rep. where a guy stood at the front of the room and put big rocks in a jar and explained you have to make room for the big things first and then the little things will fit around them. Seriously, the presentation was awful but the concept is right.

The trick is figuring out what the big things are. For me they’d be (1) family (2) writing (3) exercise. Then I have to decide what fits into these categories. Volunteering in my son’s class goes into “family” so it’s priority 1. Riding gives me exercise and also stimulates my writing so it’s in 2 & 3. The evening wine and cheese I was recently invited to because I volunteer at my sons’ school, only tangentially touches the above and going would potentially take away from all three so it’s a no.

I’m fully aware this is enough blah, blah, blah from me (talk about preaching!), however, I guess what I’m saying is don’t put off today what you’ll no longer be able to do tomorrow.

And when it comes to writing, if it really is a big – or even medium-sized – rock in your life, just give it some time. Don’t write a novel yet but write your children a funny poem or write your cousin a long letter. Start small but start and see if, in some way, it can support the other big rocks in your life. Maybe you can be the communications rep. for your children’s school council – writing and family wrapped up together. Maybe you can write a great Christmas newsletter.

Just be careful of living for some day.

© 2012 Tudor Robins

“Don’t cry because it’s over.
Smile because it happened.
—Dr. Seuss

The December page of my kitchen calendar bears this quote from Dr. Seuss. I grimaced when I read it because, for me and many of my acquaintances, 2011 is a year well left behind.

As 2011 progressed, challenging event piled on top of challenging event. The spring, summer and fall blur in my mind. Every day was a balancing act of deciding which pressing matter to deal with and which to neglect for another day. The steady sequence of one thing after another and the relentless pressure baffled me. I even considered consulting astrological charts to see if there was some explanation from beyond in the planetary alignment in the heavens.

I thought it was just me.

But then I started to hear it from my friends. Time after time I heard, “I’m looking forward to New Year’s Eve so I can put 2011 behind me.” So many people I know faced unusually difficult health challenges, losses in the family, or unwelcome job changes in 2011. It was a crushing year for many people.

We want to do the opposite of what Dr. Seuss advises: cry because it happened, and smile because it’s over.

This goes against my optimistic personality. I don’t want to wish my life away. So I will have to seek and find the positive that came out of the events of 2011. And I can do that, for personal growth comes out of the trials and challenges in our lives. I’ve learned a lot.

It’s easy to take Dr. Seuss’s advice not to cry because it’s over; I am so very glad that 2011 is behind me. It’s a little harder to smile because it happened. But I will tilt my mind in that direction. Challenging as it was, I’m a better, stronger person now.

Happy New Year, and may 2012 bring many blessings and personal growth in only small, manageable doses.