Dammed Waters and Cold Embers

Note: Creativity, for me, is often the roaring of a flash flood or a raging firestorm. The feelings intermingle as I can feel I’m drowning in words or burning up with creative desire. Then there are times …

I’m not very motivated or inspired lately. Usually, words flow like water over a dam after a storm, but lately the water is low and there hasn’t been any fresh rain. The creative bursts of gushing words dried up. The word flow which stimulates other creative endeavors is nonexistent. I’m empty and I’ve no energy to breathe a spark to the embers.

I finished reading the last issue of Pastel Journal, and though I picked up a couple of tips, I’m still not inspired to go in the studio. It’s almost as if the last painting, which I have to admit I hate, dumped water on my creative fire putting out the flames, and the wet ashes left a burnt taste in my mouth I can’t get away from.

I keep telling myself it will come back. And it has, a bit – it’s in the proof as I’m sitting here writing this. Still, it’s a struggle and usually writing isn’t a struggle. When was the last time I wrote a poem? Months ago.

There was a bit of a spark over a week ago when I felt drawn to get back to the book I haven’t finished. But that fizzled out. There was a brief flash when I tackled a new garden project a couple days later. But those embers cooled quickly. I blogged five days in a row. But that fizzled when the words ceased, and nothing inspired me. I stood at the easel and worked more on the sky. But any more painting desire dried up like the excess pastel dust I blew off the paper.

I blamed the changing season. I told myself I needed rest and more time to heal from the fall I took in August. I used the excuse of having to put the gardens to bed and cleaning up the yard. I even allowed myself more time to sit and play Spider Solitaire telling myself, “I’ll work tomorrow.”

But the creative fire didn’t burn the next day or the day after that. I’ve made to-do lists. I’ve jotted down ideas for next spring’s gardening. But something feels missing. Where are my muses? I feel I’m in limbo. I’m in waiting mode – but for what?

I used to be able to see water gushing in the brook as I looked out from my seat. Now I have to go outside to see the trickling water. Maybe, like the brook, I just need to be patient and peaceful. Yes, for now the waters are slow trickles and the embers are cold, but it’ll all come back. Hey, maybe the muses need to rest, too. Maybe this is their dormant stage.

September 19

No frost here. I had gone out at 9:30 last night and took the plants off railings just in case. ("NH Chronicle" is the last show I watch every night to catch the weather and they were predicting possible frost.) The thermometer is just now reaching 40 degrees at 8 a.m. The inside thermometer still reads 61 degrees as it did when I got up. It never ceases to amaze me that 60 degrees outside is nice, but inside is downright cold.

I sit here wearing a turtleneck, flannel shirt, sweater, and a coat. I have fingerless furry hand coverings ... my fingers are freezing, but I need to be able to type. This morning I have TWO blankets over my lap. I'd turn on the furnace, but as it's supposed to be in the 80s over the weekend, I'm holding out.

The hardest part is because I don't have much of a lap, it's hard to anchor the blankets around me and they keep slipping off my legs. I quickly get chilled.

Yesterday was quite the busy day. I finally got Andy to cut 2 feet off the top of the extra stockade fence. He staked it behind the 4-by-4-inch posts he used to create a retaining wall to level the area I'm calling the stump garden because of the three big stumps. I got out the can of purple paint I'd used on the big stockade fence last year and set to work.

Standing in the depression behind the wall (that becomes a little pond during heavy rain), I reached over the top of the pickets to paint the 4-by-4s and the front of the fence. Immediately my back started screaming, but I pushed on. What a mess I made! I dripped paint all over and didn't care if I got dirt in the paint or paint on the ground. Next year when I plant more flowers here, the messy part won't be visible.

I added a second coat in places. My poor shirt -- good thing I'd put on a shirt I'd gotten paint on before. In the end, it looked really good. Even Andy said so and he was hesitant when I suggested doing this. I'm pleased.

Now I'm wondering about cutting up the other extra section of stockade to use the pickets in other parts of the gardens ... like where tall plants grow and need support ... and add a splash of purple color ... I think it'll look good if I place pieces strategically.

Six hours since getting up, the inside temperature still hasn’t risen. The tension in my shoulders and neck have caused a headache. Every time I get up to move around, I drop the blankets, take off glove and mittens and quickly get cold again. I give up. I’m in my house and there’s no reason I have to be so cold. What am I trying to prove? I turned on the furnace at 11:15. Once it warms up a bit, I’ll turn it off.

September 18

The lantana and petunia on the back deck still have beautiful blossoms. The geranium on the railing has full leaves at the end of its leggy stems ... reminds me of a poodle with her furry lower legs, shaved upper legs, and furry body. 

It's a quiet morning. I heard the cardinal chip before it got light, but I haven't heard a bird since. The sun hasn't put in an appearance. There's some lightness to the upper tree canopy, but closer to the house, the greens are dark. It's still very green until the brook where the rocks are a grayish brown with last year’s dead leaves stuck in crevices.

I did a morning yard walkabout and took some photos of a few flowers still blooming. It’s chilly. My hands are cold. I put up bird feeders and the nuthatches and gold finches have been back and forth.

Regarding work on the book: The pages I printed out yesterday have to do with if I am sending the manuscript to an editor, which isn't the same as having the book print ready. Another decision to make. Do I want to have an editor go over it? Is the real question, "Do I want to PAY someone to edit it?"

It's hard to trust someone you don't know with your baby. However, even though I’m an editor, it’s not always good to edit your own work. It’s easy to miss errors. No matter how many times I re-read my pages, I always find something to change or tighten up.

Then going back to Eric Rhoads,' "Do I want to just be good enough or better than good enough?" Whether I print a few copies even if it's just for me, don't I deserve to be better than just good enough? And, shouldn't we always strive to do quality work?

There's a part of me that feels I've slipped in that aspect lately. I have to say, I've not been giving my projects 100%. Sometimes I'm telling myself why should I care so much when no one else cares about me and what I do. I know, that's not entirely true, but I feel that way sometimes.

I can't allow myself to think this way. It doesn't matter if anyone else cares. I have to care! This is my life and if I want to be happy, I have to care about what I do, and my work needs to be quality work. I don't want to settle for second best/less than. It doesn't matter if I live alone. It doesn't matter if I'm not rich. It doesn't matter that I'm not popular or physically beautiful or have tons of family and friends visiting. 

I matter! What I do matters to me, and I want to surround myself with quality and goodness and beauty and color!

And if I have to give myself a pep talk by telling someone else what I want -- well, whatever works.

Back to the book(s) ... Sometimes I need set guidelines and while there are rules to writing, in this day of self-publishing and all, there can be too many options. Do I do this, or do I do it that way? I get stuck in deciding. And right now, this hemming and hawing scares me and prevents me from moving forward and accomplishing the current books. How can I do new books if I don’t get the ones in process finished? 

I need to resolve this indecisiveness so I can live a more wholehearted life.

September 17

I’m in one of those can’t-make-up-my-mind times. Yesterday I mentioned getting back to the book I’d been working on the past few years. I’m ready.

I’ve got all the writing done in Word documents. Now I want to copy those 8 ½ inch documents into a 6 by 9 book template with photos. But I couldn’t find the template in any of my blank form folders. I have 5 by 8 and 7 by 10, but not the size I want this book to be in.

My very first book after the poetry chapbooks, was done through lulu.com. The next book was through blurb.com, and “Too Cold for Alligators” (TCfA) I had published through AuthorHouse. They (that proverbial “they”) always make it sound so easy to publish/self-publish, but it isn’t cheap if you want to have a quality job done.

And, for me these days, it’s having to learn or relearn programs. TCfA was put together using open office (ODT) because Word doesn’t hold the entire manuscript in one document. It was a challenge adapting Word documents to ODT. And, for some reason, PDF and I have never gotten along.

So, yesterday I researched other options and just ended up confusing myself even more. But I’m back at it again today.

Being Good Enough for Myself

‘Do I want to be good enough or better than good enough?’ – Eric Rhoads

Eric Rhoads’ statement in his morning coffee chat blog of Sept. 15 struck a loud chord in me. It brought me back to my unfinished book projects and how, as long as they remain incomplete, a part of me remains unsuccessful.

A subsequent chat with my friend, Annette Vogel, stirred me even more. We were commenting on having fairly isolated lives, then going on trips and being around people. I like being a little isolated. I have my friends, but I really don't want to be around more than two or three people at a time -- even if I like them.

I’ve said for years I’ve had a fear of people. It wasn't about getting mugged or anything like that, but the energy of multiple people, and if they are talking loud, emotional, or angry ... it's draining. (I admit, too, growing up, I was ridiculed horribly by other kids which is another reason I’m people-shy.)

Annette was always telling me when I first started working for the newspaper, "Where are the people? Get people in your photos." So, when I did the trip in 2015 and planning to write a book about the adventure, I went out of my way, and actually made a point, to talk to individuals or couples. When out on trails, I'd stop and talk to others. I talked to hotel clerks, waitresses, other customers in restaurants, etc.

(I continue it these days when I go to stores -- I make a point to say a few words, offer a compliment to strangers. I enjoy the interaction. A little kindness goes a long way. It doesn't take much.)

Then a 2016 trip to Wichita, Kansas, happened before I could finish the 2015 book, then I sold my house and moved, then … one project after another pushed the book writing farther down the list.

I'd love to go south again for a trip. Or going west, I wouldn't mind visiting gardens again and seeing the Chain of Rocks Bridge. I'd like to see other sights and places, too. I could do it. If I wanted to. Part of me wants to, but because I didn't finish the last two books ... and writing is an important part of the traveling, I don’t want to go on another trip until I complete the last two. (Complete meaning get the books written!)

But I can't do it all. I can't write and paint and garden along with other things. It sounds easy. It sounds like, why not? Why can't I do all that? It sounds simple, but it isn't. Even putting together an email takes time, and the next thing I know, half the day is gone. 

It's funny, as much as I sometimes think I'm all together and know who I am, there are still these aspects ... and they weigh on me. I need to come to terms with these. I AM an Artist! which includes writing, painting, and the creativity in gardening. I'm not someone with one focus. It's exciting to bounce from one project to the next and I get a lot of little things done -- but big things, like books and paintings, get put on the back burner. 

Earlier this year I'd been thinking about just printing out the travel book pages and photos on my printer -- but that's not good enough. Even if I'm just doing one copy for myself, I want better than that. I deserve better than that! What was Eric Rhoads talking about this week? Quality. Quality work, quality papers, quality ink. I don't want to settle for less.

But it means so much more work! Blurb.com would probably be the easiest. That will be copy and paste and insert pictures -- but it's pricey. My “Too Cold for Alligators” was done through AuthorHouse (cost me a lot of money) and I had to do all the set up in Open Office because Word wouldn't handle that many pages in a manuscript. I don't want to deal with Open Office again. It's a pain in the neck to transfer, plus, I'd have to re-learn all over again. No matter what I do, it's going to cost -- but I want it. I sooooo want it!

I need a personal assistant, ha-ha, that could do that kind of stuff. Which would free me up to work on new stuff. I want this. Badly. If I don't get this done, this will put me back into the failure realm. I've said this before ... and see, it comes up again. I have to do this! Have to, have to, have to! WANT to! This is holding me back from feeling success. And I AM Successful! Again, I have to do this.

Being Authentic

Some mornings I’m dragging and achy upon getting up. Other mornings I get up feeling good and eager to start the day. However, many of those good days take a downturn as time progresses, be it computer issues, pain, or something stressful buries me.

In these days where everyone is supposed to remain positive, should I admit that? Do I have to present a persona to others as if I have the best life even when I feel everything is falling apart?  (Or crashing in the moment.)

But I don’t want to pretend everything is hunky-dory when it isn’t. To me, that’s not living the truth and it creates secrets. Don’t get me wrong, I have a pretty good life, but, as life is, it isn’t perfect. I have good days and I have not-so-good days.

I want to live my truth – wholeheartedly – which means talking and writing about the not-so-good moments along with the successes. The importance is talking and writing about it without putting a woe-is-me spin on my demeanor.

It’s admitting pitfalls, but it’s also talking about resolving those issues. It’s saying I am such and such at the moment, while at the same time, considering options of what I can do to be better. It’s being open, honest, and brave enough to discuss a downside, then being strong enough to show how I can crawl out of those pits.

I watched "Open Studio with Jared Bowen" (PBS, recorded on Sept. 13). One of his interviews was with Billy Porter, Broadway performer, singer, and actor. I hadn’t heard of the guy before.

For some reason, I'm intrigued by gay guys and their flamboyancy. Being flamboyant is something I am not, which is probably why I’m fascinated ... then again, I love bright colors though I won’t wear them myself. But it just wasn’t about his outfits, I was also taken by what he had to say. 

He talked about being authentic. He said he "... no longer needs validation from the outside." Part of me laughed, thinking, isn't that why performers act? But I also understand what he means. He said he got tired of living up to expectations. He is now so sure of who he is on the inside, he can be free to be totally who he is. This is something I’m working on myself … to be free to be who I am, and it takes courage to say that out loud.

"I don't want to be unauthentic anymore," Porter stated.

This really resonates with me. I, too, strive to be authentic in my goal to live wholeheartedly, and I am certainly tired of feeling I need to live up to others' expectations. (Notice I said "... feeling I need to ..." because I know I don't have to, but there is still always a little piece of me wanting to please ... and those moments of guilt because I am not, and refuse to be, what others expect me to be.

Hearing someone put into words what I’m feeling makes me want to jump up and down with excitement. “See! See! I knew! This is what I feel, too!” It makes me stronger in knowing who I am and that I am not so all alone in my beliefs.    

September 12

It’s a dark and rainy morning. The brook is a narrow, long, dark cavern between the bank on this side and the huge boulders on the other. The cardinals have been back and forth, but I've not put feeders out. Some leaves are changing color and a few hemlock needles have turned brown. Foliage has opened more, and I can see the house across the brook a little clearer.

My mind is now on putting away summer items. First, I want to clean and re-organize the garage. The goal is to better pack away summer items, store them where I can reach them easier, and hang items out of the way that aren’t used often. Then there are the plants I'd like to re-pot before bringing inside for the winter.

I’m on an energetic roll and I don’t want to stop to eat breakfast. I have a hard time getting back on track when I break the momentum. This is what makes eating breakfast so difficult for me. The creative drive is so strong in the morning and once I stop, no matter what I’m working on or even if I’m bouncing from various projects, all my energy drains.

Even getting up now to throw a croissant in the toaster could put out the flames of creative desire, and though my stomach isn’t feeling hunger, my body physically feels nutrient-drained and I am getting light-headed.

And, after feeling much better and excited about the day, I get a message that I messed up editing a newspaper article last week. I’m so mad at myself. I should have known better.

I’ll write up a correction and move on. That’s all I can do. Apologize all over myself, to myself, let it go, and move on. Mistakes happen.

Living wholeheartedly is dealing with these issues and not allowing them to drag me down. And, for me, it’s in not overthinking and dwelling which is something I’m working on.

Decision-making

The morning started out dark and a little rainy, but by 10 a.m., the sun was breaking through. I went out for a daily walkabout the yard, deadheading spent blossoms, taking photos, and getting distracted doing a garden project. Sunlight reached through the trees to create a beautiful, brilliant spotlight on an otherwise shadow-dark brook.

It was muggy. I was hot after pruning the weigela which was crowding the steps and walkway. A luscious, warm breeze rustled through leaves and felt so good. I was tempted to sit on a bench and just enjoy the moment, but writing was calling me. When a topic is banging around in my head, I have to write and talk about it to let it go.

It's funny how things we feel we've put behind us come back. Burying something isn't the same as letting it go, and we have to let things go before we evolve into the next step of life.

I struggle with making decisions, so much so, I’m often teased about it. I swear I'm getting worse. Do I want the blue pill or the red pill? I can't make up my mind so don’t take either. Oh, oh, here I go -- saying something and the light flashes on.

Maybe this is a past issue that's worked its way back to the surface. In my younger years it seemed all my decisions were the wrong ones. Well, not all, but I always felt my choices were not wise, and even now, part of me believes it while part of me doesn't, and yet, I continue to hem and haw over the smallest things.

I hear Angeles Arriens’ voice in my head telling a story saying, "What if I make the wrong choice?" I have felt that way so often in life. Even decisions made since moving to this house, if I had to do over, I would choose differently.

For instance, one of the latest issues is choosing a new color for the front porch and back deck (both need painting). I want something a little different, still purple, but a lighter shade. I’ve spent weeks trying to decide with trips to the local hardware store to get samples. So far, I’ve tried four new shades, plus there are the leftover paint colors from when everything was painted two-three years ago (done over two summers and I never did totally finish the project). Is it too blue? Is this one too red? Then it looks different in the shade than it does in the sun. I can easily drive myself crazy with indecision.

And, is this indecisiveness an issue I really need to worry about? After all, it’s OK to change my mind. Were those past decisions really wrong? Maybe they were the right choices at the time. I can’t live with regret. So, how can I change my thinking? How can I make a decision without spending hours or days agonizing over the choices?

The bottom line, for the most part, is … it doesn’t really matter. Do I want the red purple or the blue purple? It doesn’t matter. Both are pretty. Do I want to go to the store at 9 a.m. or 11 a.m.? It doesn’t matter unless I want to get takeout for lunch.

So, what is causing me to overthink things these days? It’s one thing to think things over to consider possibilities and it’s another thing to cripple myself in worrying. I’m not helping myself and just twist myself in knots. There’s no reason to get in this stuck mode. Even if I did make poor choices in the past, that was past and has no relevance on today.

I am reminded of the couple of times I did a fire walk. When the time came to walk barefoot over the red, hot coals, the leader would say, “Take a yes in one hand and a no in the other hand. Whichever hand feels strongest, go with it.” In that instant, the yes was the strongest both times and I walked the coals – more than once!

I could adapt that analogy to make decisions now. Also, there’s the “Just Do It!” command to the self, or I could write down the choices and use a pendulum to help me choose.

Whatever the case, I want to stop wasting time hemming and hawing. I’m even working on repeating an affirmation to myself: “I AM Decisive! I make good choices easily. I feel great and I AM Happy!”

More Work on Changing How I Think About Eating

A couple days ago I wrote about my issues with eating. Someone suggested I write more on the subject because talking about this and how I’m striving to be better and live more wholeheartedly could help others find their ways.

I was hesitant because people have ragged on me for years about my eating habits. I know they mean well, but there are times I still deal with past and those old feelings of never doing anything right and never pleasing anybody. Sometimes it feels like everyone is finding fault with me for being me, because I’m not like them. I know, I have to stop taking things so personally.

Then, too, a part of me rebels whenever someone tells me what I have to do. No, I don’t have to! But I know chatting about things opens the door to changes. Yes, sometimes something will be said, and I know I would never do that. However, there are many times someone will mention what they do, and I’ll think, “I could definitely do that!”  

So, do I dare blog? It would be putting myself out there big time and give do-gooders a chance to rag on me. Sharing information and learning something new is always good. Plus, these conversations could help people who also struggle with good eating habits. We don't all have to be health-nuts to eat better and be healthier. And for those who want to be that health-food-conscious, that's OK for them. I'm still going to eat foods I like. I just want to be smarter with when and how much.

The funny thing is, I’ve been healthier than most people my whole life! (Except for being overweight in my adult years.) But now I’m realizing I need to make changes and pay attention to what I’m putting in my body. Physically and mentally I need to make adjustments to my eating habits. Physically, because, well, I just need to eat better. Mentally, because I need to change how I think about eating and food.

Sometimes it takes a long time for things to sink in and these past couple of weeks, all those signs inside I’ve been feeling for a while finally came to a head. Maybe that fall I took last month awoke something within. I realize I can no longer go without sustenance between a snack around 7 p.m. to lunch sometime the following afternoon with only a smoothie and coffee in the morning. Holy crap, I just realized most days I go 12 hours or more without any solid food! No wonder I’ve been feeling unwell.

Wednesday morning breakfast with a friend was good, but for the rest of the day, I didn't eat well in spite of all the chatting lately and the thinking in my head. I only had five mini Snickers throughout the afternoon. Around 6 p.m., I pulled apart the grilled chicken a neighbor had given me the night before, made chicken salad, then put some on two hamburger buns.

Eating two sandwiches in one sitting is something I don't need any more to fill me up, but I always make two because I'm afraid I'll still be hungry. I ate the first one and it filled me up, then ate the second an hour later just because I didn't want to put it in a baggie. Yeah, my tummy got a little queasy.

This morning over two journal pages were about eating! Almost three hours after getting up, while I was journaling, I listened to my body, and as soon as I felt that lightheadedness come on (the precursor to a full-blown headache which then leads to a queasy stomach), I knew I needed to eat.

The smoothie is OK to get me started, but I need something solid. I know that and need to do something about it instead of just thinking about it and continuing with other projects. I told myself I couldn't do any emails until I ate something -- and I did -- English muffin Fluffernutter, especially nice on a cool morning. (I should’ve taken a photo.)

Another thing I notice is I keep talking about eating, but I don't mention meals. Maybe I need to get into eating consistently before I can consider what I eat for a meal … but I’m such a fussy eater. Another excuse to go with the long list of reasons why I don’t eat; and why I need to change my thinking.

I started thinking about the excuses I make to not eat -- like being busy with a project, then jumping right into another one because I don’t want a pause in the creative spark. There are interruptions and distractions. There's the laziness about getting up to put something together or even putting something on a plate or in a bowl and heating it in the microwave. Gosh, I can come up with so many excuses and they mean nothing.

But it is hard taking a meal break when I'm on a creative-idea-mind-flow. I try to take notes while I'm getting food ready, but it's not the same. That streaming word flow is broken. The creative moment changes its oomph and then I can't get it back. I always describe it as: If I don't give the muse 100% attention when she shows up, she goes away. Maybe I could talk to her about this.

Changing How I Think About Eating

In my quest to live wholeheartedly, I sometimes deal with recurring various issues. Getting older certainly has me re-looking at many aspects of life. For instance, my eating habits have always been … peculiar ...

Funny how every time I am determined to change something, it seems to go the opposite way. For instance, I want to cut back on ibuprofen and end up taking more to ease the almost-daily pain. Every time I want to do something different about eating, something usually comes up throwing the new plans into the wind.

Talk about the universe testing me. Oh, you want to make a change? How bad do you want to change? Bad enough to put up with extra crap to get through it?

Then, too, maybe I'm at an age where I recognize things changing all the time. I can’t coast through life, I have to pay attention ... like realizing more solid food, like meat and potatoes, settles better in me than pastas and saucy dishes.

The hardest thing for me about eating more often (besides having on hand food I want to eat) is interrupting whatever I'm doing to get it. Already-prepared meals still need to be heated up, throwing together a sandwich takes some time ... then doing up the dishes. It sounds silly but those few minutes totally interrupts my train of thought on whatever I’m working on.

My mind will be on a highly creative flow and by the time I sit back down again, that moment of inspired consciousness is gone. When I’m in one of those wild stream-of-consciousness, full-blown inspirational times, I have to go with it, even when multiple projects come on top of one another. Those creative bursts are like storm surges with waves coming one after another. To take any pauses when that stream is running strong is like slamming down a dam.

If I don’t pay attention, I mentally crash. The creative desire drains out of me and sometimes weeks go by before the muse returns. What worked before doesn’t anymore. No longer can I go so long without eating that I don’t feel hungry. Now if I go all night and too far into the morning without eating, my physical body crashes. I feel sick, queasy, and headachy.  

I need to find a way to balance creative fire and eating.  I need to relearn what hunger feels like and eat accordingly – not when I’m so hungry I eat too much and too fast. I need to figure out how to keep the creativity active while having meals. It’s time to change my thinking about food. I have to WANT to eat!

Oh! Oh! That's another side of the issue. I don't want to eat! Wow, I wonder if this is some deep-set thing inside because there are so many issues around food and being told what to eat and what not to eat and listening to snide comments of, "If you eat that, you're gonna get fat." Too late. And statements like that make me want to rebel even more to eat what I want -- or don't eat.

I need to come up with some affirmation cards, so the right words are in my face. I know, it sounds silly to have to be reminded to eat. But I get so busy … I need to find the right words that will work for me and not the current trend statements everyone repeats. Every time I hear diet, healthy foods, or any of the latest food fads ... my soul cringes.