Writing -- and life -- is about balance

By now, most people have heard that my husband lost his job. His position, along with the rest of the staff, was eliminated. Rather than cry a river, we're making the best of a crummy situation and getting resourceful. For now, we are OK.

For now.

It's so easy to get comfortable, to sink into a life that is familiar, like an old pair of sweats, and never want to leave. To think of change is to unravel. Our backs go up and we start to get defensive of that life that we grew to love so dearly.

In my last writing course, Fearless Writing, I talked a lot about taking risks, doing things differently and trying new things when all along I was doing the same thing every day as I do now. Sure, I take more risks than most but the big picture stuff, it all remains wrapped around me like a cozy blanket.

I don't want to sit on just any cushion in life. I like this one, the one that is perfectly molded to fit my body, thank you very much. I can no longer question why my daughters both are so attached to their little bear blankets that they've had since infancy. Of course they still need those. Of course.

And yet my cushion has been sucked out from underneath of me and we're having to adapt to the changes to the life we were so desperately clinging on to with no inclination it would change. The changes of routine and cushy bank accounts and getting used to a New Normal are upon us.

So much of this lesson has to do with writing. It's not easy to write when things are really good. It's always easier to let the tears flow and drip down onto the page. But that's not what a writer should do. A writer has to return to the page day after day for the good and for the bad. It's only in between all of that when we start to see ourselves and our writing for what it truly is in the balance.

I'm so looking forward to the writing retreat that I'm hosting so that we can walk in the balance together.

Sometimes you just can't write

This was not the post I was going to write. It wasn't the one planned, and sitting unwritten in my head.

But, sometimes, you just can't write. It's not that you don't want to or even that you don't have time. It's that other things, more pressing things, need to rise to the surface and be released before you can return to the page.

This has been the case for me for the last week and a half. It's been utter nonsense, truly, but enough to raise all of my little emotional sensors that says enough is enough. You are enough. You don't have to add one more thing to the mix.

But, just because I know I can't write anything *great* right now, doesn't mean I shouldn't be working -- working on things with less emotional weight, working on stringing words together in any shape.

Like lists. Oh, mercy, I love a good list. Just last night, in a fit of "I have to write something!" I wrote a wonderful Autumn to-do list. I sat under a comfy blanket next to a breezy window and used a brown marker from my little girls' stash and started. The list started off small but soon a wild amount of potential -- and creativity -- bled through that list, all of which left me feeling so excited.

Character Sheets. I also started character sheets for my finished manuscript to use while editing. As I go through the book, I see so many inconsistencies on the minor details of my characters .... these sheets will help me nail it all down so that I can truly get through that thing ASAP.

Poetry. Formerly written poetry. Knowing I had to do something, I started gathering ALL of my many journals and notebooks and scouring them for bits of gold and transferring that gold into a new, more final notebook to keep track of the good stuff. By doing this, I actually improved a few pieces drastically and realized I know a bit more about poetry than I like to admit to. Poetry is theraputic to write during a writing stop (this is not a creative block, by the way. But that's another post).

Do something with your hands. I like to do mixed media collages when I'm frustrated. It works in harmony with my desire to use words but also create without rules. Since I am not a fine artist, I never feel like my paintings/collage need to be very good. Now and then, they aren't terrible.

Play. Play. Play. Enough said on that.

Finally, Read. Reading can take the place of writing solely by being the reading detective. Now, I admit, I wasn't a reading detective until I actually finished my first book. Now, I totally get it and it's rather freaking addictive. And, the result is that I often now cannot go to sleep from reading because I'm so hooked on uncovering it's little nuggets of writing. Still, it's a true must for any writer. Read everything you can get your hands on, in preparation.

How about you? When you CAN'T write, what is it that you CAN do instead? When life is truly too busy, too chaotic, too problem-filled, how do you get your writing on? How do you stay in the game of creativity?

Seasonal Shifts in Clarity and Writing

There's something about the smell of fall that triggers good, let's-start-over feelings internally for me. Its back-to-school, new year, new phase, new everything feeling actually feeds my New Year mentality more than the actual New Year.

I know I am not alone in this. So many people -- women, mostly -- have been saying the same thing to me.

I love the crunch, crunch, crunch of walking on baby acorns, gathering them up in my hands and understanding what they mean to this earth, this cycle of seasons.

I often wonder what it's like to live in a place where there are no seasons. My Creative Soul is at the mercy of the seasons like my body is to water. When spring and summer fall upon my part of the world, I am at peace and create like a mad woman. Deep in the belly of winter and summer, I am scattered and lost and hardly productive at all.

At least I finally understand this about my own rhythms and ebbs and flows and can embrace it, as frustrating at it is at the time.

Still, fall brings with it so many other struggles such as loss of daylight and my inability to get myself out of bed early without a mean alarm clock. And yet that is exactly what I need to do to get things done.

My friend Stacey, with her own blog, recently commented on developing a fall schedule. This is exactly what I have done for the last few years, not just for fall but for every season. I write lists upon lists of what my ideal schedule should look like -- when I'll exercise, when I'll write, when I'll enjoy the crisp, fall breeze. I will also write lists upon lists of seasonal gifts to enjoy such as picking apples and pumpkins, going for hayrides, hiking and walking through corn mazes, into the deep woods and, of course, cooking my seasonal favorites. I will spent most of my time outside, drinking wine and coffee and apple cider. And writing.

Oh goodness, the writing. This season's writing can make my mind spin with excitement. I hope it doesn't disappoint. That is, if I can just hunker down and carve out the time much like carving out the features of a poet in a pumpkin.

How about you? How will you fall into creativity as the season's change? Does cooler weather bring more clarity to your pursuits or not? I'm curious to know.

The Sun, The Sun

Sometime mid-winter I started obsessing over the sun -- all the time.

I mean, needing the sun. I needed the sun's warmth to kiss my body and heal it. I needed its beauty to brighten my days. I wasn't depressed, I just needed the sun.

It started with the song at the end of this post.

The natural world has been calling me my whole life but I only now recognize that pull, that gravitational pull that sweeps me in and wraps itself around me as it relates to the seasons and the stress in my life.

When we lived in the city, I was obsessed with trees. Big, tall, comforting trees. I longed for their wisdom, their shelter, the way they withstand all the elements and still stand strong. I wanted to be able to weather the violence that we were witnessing week in and week out.

I began celebrating Summer and Winter Solstice privately a couple years ago, but it was last year when I felt the girls were old enough to celebrate, too, that I started taking it to a new level.

This year, I truly celebrated for me. I needed to celebrate the sun's beauty and thank it for rising every day for me and bringing such light and clarity and warmth.

This year, I woke at 4 a.m. on the morning of Summer Solstice on June 21st, a Monday no less. Drove 15 minutes to pick up a friend and then another 20 minutes to a dark parking lot in the country. We hiked an easy trail up to the top of a tall hill (the girls would call it a mountain) overlooking the river -- the same river that was the view for our wedding. The hike up took about 10 minutes -- and once at the top we entered a sacred circle -- a tribe of other sun fans in a service led by American Indians.

We were smudged as we entered the circle and then we waited for the program to start. The elder told us about the importance of the longest day of the year in his culture and our reasons for being there were instantly all the same.

He led a traditional American Indian prayer and then we meditated and watched as he held his arms out to the dark sky and the sun inch by inch rose up, up, up above the horizon. It was miraculous the way she just rose up after his prayer was over. It was a heavenly moment, perfectly timed, and leaves you feeling a part of a great miracle.

I walked away that day with even more respect for the sun and I feel a connection to it.

Pictured above is my friend Stacey who bravely attended the Summer Solstic service with me.