A beautiful intro to the morning. Nothing makes me feel more thankful than seeing the moon and the sun share the sky together.
As I struggle these days with consistency and clarity, I feel so grateful for these moments given to me in grace. How beautiful are the heavens. How grateful I am for another day to try again in every endeavor; faith, family and fortitude.
He sat at the piano for the full length of bars and rested in his composition so that the audience could experience the amazing music in our surroundings. His composition was a form of meditation. Have you ever sat still, closed your eyes, and listened?
Try it. I dare you. I tried it and found myself feeling restless. I couldn’t feel comfortable with the silence within me. It seemed like it had no direction. I felt guilty sitting in silence. My mind drifted to many places.
Kitchen places, bedroom places, cleaning places, laundry places; then I pushed those thoughts away and went to my creative place. It seemed empty at first. A piece of paper. A pencil. A figure. Movement. It comes in puffs and spurts. As long as I linger, more comes. Just like the composition of John Cage, I start to hear the creativity of me and that around me. I feel encouraged. I can do it.
The clouds moved in causing the sky to look milky-gray. Then I hear a rumble. I run outside looked to the east, hoped for a bright flame burning through the clouds, but there was nothing. I heard the rumble, louder than before and looked to the northwest part of the sky. Nothing, but a deeper rumble. I look at my weather map app, reds, yellows, greens, but they are more than two hours away. I think about my teen son who has epilepsy. His VNS will be sending more charges because of the increased electricity in the air. Thunderstorms do that to him.
I return inside, thinking how the weather keeps us guessing. I pour myself a feel-good, wake-me-up-kind-of-coffee.
Then I sit down to write. Sometimes it comes easy. Sometimes it doesn’t come at all. Everything is a work in progress.
I’ve started reading Be, Awake, Create by Rebekah Younger, MFA. I was put in an awesome state of encouragement. She started her book with a story about John Cage. I never knew who John Cage was because he was influential before I was born. The story goes like this: He created a controversial work in 1952 called 4’33”, which was written as bars of rest. When he played it for the first time at Woodstock, the crowd became angry because they didn’t hear the composition. The clever man made the boldest statement about silence.
He sat at the piano for the full length of bars and rested in his composition so that the audience could experience the amazing music in our surroundings. His composition was a form of meditation. Have you ever sat still, closed your eyes, and listened?
Try it. I dare you. I tried it and found myself feeling restless. I couldn’t feel comfortable with the silence within me. It seemed like it had no direction. I felt guilty sitting in silence. My mind drifted to many places.
Kitchen places, bedroom places, cleaning places, laundry places; then I pushed those thoughts away and went to my creative place. It seemed empty at first. A piece of paper. A pencil. A figure. Movement. It comes in puffs and spurts. As long as I linger, more comes. Just like the composition of John Cage, I start to hear the creativity of me and that around me. I feel encouraged. I can do it. It didn’t rain.
When looking at the calendar, I find it still time for new endeavors and renewed enthusiasm for the goals made previously.
This year is an interesting start. Sometimes I think of other authors and how they journeyed towards their work. It reminds me of Charles Dickens. He wasn’t a poet in the formal sense but his prose had so much “poetry” in it.
Holiday hustle and unending bustle, I worked on achieving some zen.
Calls were made with “business as usual”, all to ensure that daily activities were not delayed by holiday hurry.
Its brilliance is the universal truth of reflection. I can’t help but think that Dickens put himself into all the stories. He had several children, and worked while in their presences. He would have to have some Scrooge-ness. His ability to hyperfocus is too much to believe. Let his example be my challenge at this traveling phantom year.
As I write, I’ve attempted writing while in the presence of family.
Qué susto! So much harder than when I’m alone. I read the same sentence two and three times. I got up from my work and came back for another attempt. Better. I wrote more. Stop. Scratched my head and twitched my mouth. The words come slow but sure. I think I can do this.
If Dickens did, why not me. I think with practice, I can improve on my writing schedule, utilize every time and day. Strategize, not for efficiency, but for more words on the page. I remain hopeful. Each new moment spent dancing my fingers along the page strengthens my endurance.
Progress makes its best success in small moments that keep occurring. Yeah that’s it. Frequent small moments that keep occurring will give me more stamina for longer sprints.
Progress arrives with practice. …and tenacity.
She pushed herself on a daily basis, not knowing how much more she could do for him. His condition limits quality of life for all who surround him. The routines felt numbing at times, their predictability endless. She wanted to earn her money from her efforts, but as a caregiver, there isn’t compensation. She’s told to take care of herself, but she isn’t paid for her services. How can she spend the money to care for herself when or take a nap or exercise if she is the caregiver?
bible.com/bible/116/php.4.13.NLT
No matter how foggy my brain can be, I will continue to work on my goals; improving my writing, teaching and learning. Creating is essential to growth. As hard as seizing the time to sit and write may be some days. Each moment that I put pen to paper and shut my critic off, I make progress. Be content in the struggle.
It’s ten minutes before the hour of the time I decided several hours ago to stop my writing and pick back up on the Mommy Bus. After dropping my son off at school over thirty minutes away from home, I realized I struggled with little results in writing production. I committed myself to looking forward to the opportunity to write while he attended school. Thank goodness for public libraries! I carry my portable office and get to sit in a place with minimal distraction. Right? Continue reading
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