One Big Idea – Part 3

29 Dec 2024 11 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in vision board, wisdom, Writing Tags: , , , , , , , ,

You blew me away with your responses! What great suggestions you all made! I’ve taken your advice and have been busy rewriting and expanding to the next few chapters. Once again, critics have at it! Please!

I do have a few specific questions.

1) I’ve written in a very informal style, incorporating comments from my everyday life. Is that working?

2) The information isn’t new, but my goal is to present it in an engaging way. Is that working?

If you could respond to those and then freely voice all other thoughts, criticisms, and advice, I’d be thrilled! Here goes round two!

Don’t Hold On To What You Can’t Have

CHAPTER 1

Grasping, clinging, and telling myself lies compromised my happiness long past the use-by date. So where do I get off asking you not to hold on to what you can’t have? How do I dare offer advice when I personally screwed up so brilliantly?

If I had an imposter syndrome, that would shut me down. But impostering isn’t one of my issues. How do you measure what has been learned over decades? Here I am, a seventy-something who fudging knows a bit from living it. I’ve laughed, loved, failed, and yet come out on the other side vigorous and vim-full of…well…you decide. 

I want to talk about letting go because it’s sticky, and tricky, and one of the most important keys to happiness. There are times when it’s necessary to sever all bonds, and other times when subtly loosening the grip does the job. 

But it’s knowing, isn’t it? Knowing who we are, what we need, what we want. Knowing when enough is enough and too little is too painful.

Socrates, one of the great philosophers of all time, is credited with saying, Know thyself. He also said that self-knowledge is a philosophical commandment that can help people avoid mistakes in their relationships and careers. 

Philosophical commandment! Holy ravioli! What does that even mean?

Ravioli – I’m starving. Time for lunch. More later.

CHAPTER 2

Okay, I’ve given it some thought. Let’s reduce philosophical commandment, to a less lofty-sounding but equally valid expression. Let’s call it the guiding rule. Self-knowledge is the guiding rule that helps people avoid mistakes in their relationships and careers. When it’s spelled out that way…so logical…right?

Until I read the iconic book by Kathleen A. Brehony, Awakening at Midlife, I had not devoted one iota of bandwidth to pondering those essential questions about myself. I was living on autopilot, numb, checked out. 

Sadly, we can’t flick a button to light up our awareness. Learning who we are is a process; if it hasn’t been part of the daily regimen to date, there’ll be some catching up to do. 

I was in my fifties with four failed marriages and a felony conviction to my credit (or debit) when I began to ask Who am I? Fortunately, the conviction was overturned on appeal, but I’m just saying, I was a late bloomer at the awareness table. And, I hate to admit this, but even after I began the process of self-discovery, I married and divorced one more time. Breaking old patterns is a bitch. 

 On the flip side, my transformation is a testimony to the fact that it’s never too late. Are you listening? It   is   never   ever   too   late.

Uncovering who we are is an exciting journey. I didn’t know I was a writer. Didn’t know I loved solitude. Didn’t know how much I needed adventures, challenges, experiences, and an out-of-the-box reality. It gives me goosebumps to write this, to remember how lost to myself I was.

When we don’t know ourselves, we’re vulnerable. Instead of choosing what will feed and nurture us in healthy ways, we run the risk of falling prey to opposite energies. That’s what I meant when I said I was on autopilot. I let life happen to me rather than making informed choices to determine my fate. Self-knowledge = informed choices = a higher potential for happiness and success.

What does all this have to do with holding on or letting go? Everything. Yup. Absolutely everything. 

Okay, it’s 32 degrees Fahrenheit, as warm as it’s going to get today, and it’s already closing in on 2 p.m. I need to get my walk in before dark. In the frozen tundra of northern Minnesota, winter brings nighttime virtually on the heels of sunrise. I need to catch while catch can – back soon!

CHAPTER 3

It’s a quarter to eight in the morning and still dark. In honor of all that’s true and holy, I’m letting go of my need for sunlight and embracing the gloom. To my point – I’m choosing not to hold onto what I can’t have right now. I’ll practice patience. That’s a good place to start. I’ll loosen my vise-like grip on the desire for a bright and beautiful day knowing that if I’m patient, that day will come. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, and if I check my weather app, maybe not for a week. But it will come. So, Sherry, give up your infantile whining already! 

Patience isn’t always a virtue. It’s good to have patience for something over which you have no control. Like the weather, for instance. But in circumstances where your needs aren’t getting met…. Here’s where you have to know yourself. If you don’t know what you need, you don’t know when you’re not getting it. To be a healthy human, you must know when action is required to make a change for your well-being. 

So let’s help you get to know you.

After I read that life-changing  Awakening book, I set out on my journey of self-knowing. I made a list of things I love. Not people. Not pets. Things. One of them was sunlight through French doors. Really! That’s random. But it’s something I love. My list went on for pages and pages. I found myself returning to it throughout the days as another ‘love’ popped to mind. 

What a simple task, right? But, by becoming aware of the things I loved, I was able to give myself more of that. I immediately weeded out of my life the things I didn’t love. Itchy clothing, stinky candles, lumpy pillows…. You get the drift!

#1 – Make a list of the things you love

When I well and truly couldn’t think of another thing I loved, I asked myself, What do you want that you don’t have? I quickly realized I’d opened Pandora’s Box – a real can of worms. My day-to-day was a shallow shell of shoulds. I was trying to fit into a mold of imagined expectations – what I thought others wanted of me – that had no resemblance to the life I desired. I remember thinking, I’m just marking time, waiting to die.

I panicked. I’m not kidding. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. My breath came fast and shallow. The room faded in and out of focus. I was cemented into a job, a house, a marriage, a community, an entire life that belonged to someone else.

We stuff this information so deep…we tell ourselves stories to support the lies…we deny, deny, deny, that anything’s wrong and put on a show of the perfect family, the perfect marriage, the perfect employee, the perfect wife, when all the while we are perfectly miserable.

If our reality is dreadfully out of alignment with our heart, it will require great courage to take the steps necessary to shift it. As I viewed my list of woes, my first thought was, no way. There is no way out. My second thought was, But this is unsustainable. I’m just marking time. I have to find a way.

According to the Constitution of the United States, the pursuit of happiness is our inalienable right. Deep down I felt that. I hated what I had to do yet I knew I deserved better than a robotic, disengaged existence. But, Oh! My! Where to begin?

And there are times, like now, when my heart says, Keep writing, and my body says, It’s noon! For god’s love, stop and eat breakfast!

‐———-

After breakfast, I did a new vision board.

After lunch, I walked with my sister in a marshmallow world.

After the walk, I worked on chapter 4! Now I await your feedback!

The Inner Goblin

19 Oct 2024 16 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in vision board, wisdom, Writing Tags: , , , , ,

There’s a section of the vision board I haven’t dealt with. Upper left quadrant. There it is. I can’t move on to create a new board until this one has fulfilled its mission, until I’ve done the deep dive into the subconscious messages represented here that are running my show. This is the last one. It’s daunting and I’ve avoided it, especially the part about the inner goblin. Who wants to face that?

Here’s the magic. As I sat down to write, I had no clue what my inner goblin might be. But as soon as I isolated the image posted at the top of this page, I laughed out loud. In my face was the reality that, at this point in my life, I’m experiencing resistance to New Possibilities and New Ideas – new anything for that matter.

That isn’t who I’ve always been. I’m adventurous, up for anything, raring to go, right? Suggesting that might have changed makes me think I’m getting old. Please don’t laugh and say, “You ARE OLD!” Age is a state of mind. You’re as old as you believe you are, and I believe myself to be approximately forty-ish, at least in measurable energy if not in looks…that ship has sailed. I just took a selfie to see how many wrinkles I could make. Unfit for publication. Too much truth.

To suggest I’m satisfied with the status quo is an understatement. To imply I’m stuck there might be true. But when you’ve got it so good that you can hardly believe you’re that fortunate, why wish for anything else? I’m close to family yet independent. I have a vibrant community. My house is everything I ever wanted. I look out my windows at peaceful fields and magnificent trees.

I could go on and bore you to tears, so I won’t, but the message is clear. I’m happy.

The catch, then, is OPEN-NESS. Despite deep contentment, am I willing to fall into something new? Do I need to be? The goblin would suggest that, yes, I do. But, if I’m perfectly honest, I don’t even want to be presented with the possibility of something new. There’s been so much change in my life. I’m ready to settle, ready for stability, ready to plant myself in this safe place and just be.

So perhaps the inner goblin is the feeling that I SHOULDN’T be content with that. I never have been before. I’ve needed adventure, challenge, change. Distractions. From what? Probably, from knowing that life is finite. There’s an end and let’s not get there with regrets, things left undone, sights unseen, adventures unexplored.

Well, that end is in sight. Not imminent, but clearly on the horizon. I’ve gone where I wanted to go, seen what I’ve wanted to see, had adventures enough for two lifetimes. The itches have been scratched. So, inner goblin, wither and die you bothersome fiend! I am where I am, what I am, who I am, and until I say otherwise, I’m unrepentantly delighted.

The Friendship Challenge

06 Oct 2024 6 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali, Mexico, The Farm, vision board, wisdom, Writing Tags: , , , , , ,

My Vision Board strikes again!

We need special people in our lives. When I moved to Bali, I didn’t know a soul. After a few inquiries online, I located a writers group (Steve Castley, Ubud Writers) and was invited to join their exclusive circle. I lived and breathed for those bi-monthly get-togethers.

I loved the comradery, but as writing critics, they were ‘Minnesota nice’ to the extreme. Coming from the brutally honest cutthroat feedback I was used to,  I had to choke down their compliments like too-sweet cough syrup. But I was the newbie trying to fit in.

After several meetings, I spoke up. “I know you have a rule that only positive feedback is allowed, and I respect that. But I want to grow as a writer. You have my permission to rip my work to shreds. Give me some real help, please!”

Silence fell like doom over the group. Then someone said, “Same for me.” Then, “Me too!”

Looking back, I wonder if I was the catalyst for the transformation that took place. One-by-one, people dropped out. Those who remained were hard-core and committed to the craft. I’d found my tribe.

When I moved to San Miguel de Allende, I knew one person, ReAnn Scott. She happened to be the connector-type with hundreds of contacts. There was no writers group, but there were rooftop parties, happy-hour meet-ups, and rumicub game days. Friendships bloomed.

Then, I landed here in the heart of the Midwest. Two years passed as I focused every ounce of energy on creating a place to live. I had my sister and brother-in-law and a smattering of relatives nearby. Bear, an old family friend, moved in next door. There was no lack of social interaction. But every-so-often, I’d find myself wondering how I could make new acquaintances. Everyone had been here for generations. As I recalled, they were good for a brief ‘hello’ before turning back to their comfortable familiars.

I’m not remarkably outgoing. I can summon up the necessary mojo when circumstances warrant it. But I’m quite thrilled with my own company most of the time.

And yet, when wind whistles across barren fields and clouds race each other in a frenzy to block the sun, nothing feels cheerier than a pot of steaming coffee with a friend.

When I learned that a traveling library visited the nearby community center every other Thursday, I was curious. Don’t get me wrong. There is no shortage of reading material in the codger community. Gwen and W’s library is a cornucopia of murder, mystery, and sci-fi. I have full access.

Bear’s new bookshelves bristle with war, history, and philosophy.

It would take several lifetimes to wade through all that literature.

So, books aside, I mostly wanted to know who would show up for a literary event.

My sister agreed to go with me that first time. As we entered, we were greeted with warm Hellos and Good mornings. There was a long table holding bins of books. Beyond that were two more tables. Around one, eight men chatted and drank coffee. A cluster of women were seated at the other, also deep in conversation. One of them pointed us to the coffee pot and gathered two more chairs so we could join them. Books, obviously, were an afterthought, an excuse for a neighborhood meetup.

The Bookmobile has become an important entry on my calendar. It holds great promise as a source of friendships. The challenge to find like-minded people no longer feels daunting. Oh! And there’s an added bonus: I can go online and order any book I want. It will be delivered to me via the Bookmobile on the following Thursday.

There is something about the ease of that service that feels luxurious. Indulgent. And the genuine inclusivity of the women, so unexpected, sends warmth radiating straight to my heart.

I should have known when the Universe whispered, the Farm, just as years before it had whispered, Bali, then, San Miguel, I could proceed with confidence. Friendships would come, the path would appear, and I could trust the unfolding.

Make WHAT Iconic?

24 Sep 2024 6 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in vision board, wisdom, Writing Tags: , ,

I’ve ignored the upper right quadrant of my Vision Board. It seemed too big. It held a command, and I typically don’t take kindly to commands. Requests – all day every day – but demands? No. 

There it stood, in upper case letters, shouting at me. My eyes avoided looking there and wandered instead through less bossy areas where my autonomy felt respected. 

But, as with everything on those tattle-tale boards, yesterday I knew the time had come. I needed to address the goblin lurking in the corner. I fixed my gaze on the words:

MAKE IT ICONIC

and let them mash around in my brain for a bit.

What did it mean? Make WHAT iconic? The day? My writing? Conversation? And how is iconic defined? I checked out Miriam Webster and the Urban Dictionary and decided that for my purposes, iconic means something outstanding in its category. 

My thoughts immediately came to rest on my house. In the category of hunting shacks, it’s beyond exceptional. I took a look at my three immediate neighbors and the daily interactions we share. How we came together in this remote corner of northern Minnesota and contribute so beneficially to each other’s well-being is nothing short of extraordinary.

And my children, my three daughters, every single one of them, OMG! Iconic!

My travels have been iconic. Friendships with people from every corner of the world. Iconic. 

As my mind wandered back over the years I saw that nothing about me or my path has been anything less than outside the box. Some was iconically tragic. I didn’t do just every day, humdrum dreadful. When I went to the shadow side, I went all the way down. But I recovered and always found a way back to solid ground.

Like the ah-hah when solving a riddle, it landed with a flash. MAKE IT ICONIC wasn’t a directive for the future. It was a commentary on the been there, done that of the past. The energy of the board wanted me to reflect and realize the incredible wealth of experiences that populate my memories.

I’m guessing, with my sun in Capricorn and centuries of marauding Viking ancestors in my DNA, I might struggle to be ordinary. It’s only been since retirement that I completely escaped the chokehold of expectation. Nobody forced it on me. Well… Maybe Mom… “Sit like a lady.” “Don’t hold hands with a boy in public or people will wonder what you do in private!” Okay. Yes. I was held to my mother’s Victorian moral standards and somewhat terrified of disappointing my parents which I managed to do fairly regularly. 

There are things we can control. Other things are part of our genetic programming, giving us a predisposition to tameness or wildness, acceptance or disruption, passivity or aggression, friendliness or reclusiveness, optimism or pessimism, book smarts or street smarts. Some of us have to work harder to be socially acceptable than others.

When we stop working so hard, when what people think no longer holds sway, we become who we are. And when we live our truth, iconic happens.

The Space Between

20 Jul 2024 2 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Feminism, vision board Tags: , , , , ,

What faces you when you’re on the throne? I’m serious, what is literally in the space directly in front of you? What do you gaze upon multiple times daily doing what natural urges require?

In my private chamber, the Vision Board occupies that place. It’s four feet eight inches from my eyeball to the center of that informative piece of art. I measured. My visits provide ample time to peruse its content, mull over its many meanings, stew, and ponder.

Be who you are, Be where you are, compelled my first attempt to share revelations gleaned from the Board in a post, Becoming Small. Satisfied with my conclusions, I moved on to, The Space Between. That phrase was glued beside the image of two very old women smoking cigarettes and wearing vintage wedding gowns. Beneath them were the words, the future, and as old as time.

First I asked myself, The space between what? Staring at me were those two ancient broads. I had the uneasy premonition that I was seeing my future. So the space was the present. The now. The time existing between the past and the future.

But I couldn’t leave that alone. How big is that space, I wondered?

A wise woman once told me that the present is the only time we have in which to create. I would change that to say, the present is the only time we have period. Our minds can dwell on the past. We can imagine the future, but our physical being cannot be in either of those places. We are only in the present.

Who thinks about these things? I should have been born in the era of Socrates, Aristotle, Plato. I’d have fit right in disguised as a man. The female philosophers came later:

  • Hypatia of Alexandria: An early female philosopher who worked in astronomy and mathematics
  • Heloise of Argenteuil: A French philosopher from around 1100–1164 who advocated for adequate education for nuns
  • St. Hildegard of Bingen: Lived from 1098–1179
  • Catherine of Siena: Lived from 1347–1380
  • Christine de Pizan: Lived from 1364–c. 1430
  • Moderata Fonte: Lived from 1555–1592 and was a critic of religion and feminist
  • Tullia d’Aragona: Lived from c. 1510–1556 and was known for her intellectual conversations

Who’s heard of any of them? Ok. A subject for another day – sometime in the future!

Back to the questions at hand: How long is the present? Is it measured in conscious time, from the moment I wake up until I fall asleep? For the sake of sanity, I think I’ve always thought of it that way. I plan what I’ll do today. Yesterday’s gone, tomorrow is yet to come, so…

My literal brain wasn’t having it. No, Sherry. Think. The present is the most infinitesimally small unit of measurable time, a zeptosecond, one trillionth of a billionth of a second. Like it or not, everything else is past or future.

But… (I argued) I move from one zeptosecond to the next… Explain that! If I’m always in the present then my present isn’t the smallest measure, it’s unlimited, until death I depart. I thought about it for a minute. Both the logical and the imaginative sides of my brain seemed delighted with that explanation.

Whew! Glad that’s settled. What a relief. I’m not bound by the zeptosecond. I have unlimited time to create. That’s good news because I want to write another novel. And I want to live long enough to see the one I already wrote, Nettle Creek, picked up by a publisher. Hopefully, there’ll be enough space between for all that and so much more.