Keeping On

A rainy day and one that hasn't necessarily gone as planned. Like any day ever does, but some days I know I want to get more done than I'm actually capable of doing. Does getting things done actually have anything to do with capabilities? Sometimes it does, other times it's more to do with motivation, desire, direction, or use of time. Occasionally, I use the term loosely, we over do. We have too many irons in the fire (from my blacksmith days in some other life), or we say "yes" when we really wanted to say "no".  For whatever reasons, our writing life (or artistic life or whatever kind of life you have going for yourself) seems to take on a life of its own.

Years ago when I was taking a class at Marylhurst University, I was sitting in a classroom in the library listening to a woman, the instructor, describe a transformational experience she had recently had. She was teaching a class on spiritual gifts and the development of intuition. I thought I might learn something about how to use my intuition and imagination better. Always one for self improvement, the two things I have plenty of are imagination and intuition. But never enough is my motto. Or it was. More and more lately, I'm seeing how harmful that can be. It takes us into a lifestyle of never being satisfied with anything. It keeps us either in the past or in the future, and has us racing around trying to get somewhere else....all the time. We're never where we are because that's not enough. We have to get to the next step, the next task, the next day, the next term, the next relationship, the next year....you get the picture.

What stood out most to me when listening to this professor talk about her own experience was how she actually got to be in that room teaching that particular class. She talked about having gone through a very rigorous Ph.D. program, and getting to the point where she had begun her dissertation. She, like many of us when we're nearing a goal, decided she needed to take a break. She was exhausted, and knew she'd never finish if she didn't take a break. So she headed out into the wilderness somewhere, and found herself sitting on a mountain top looking out across the valley below.  At least that's what I recall. If I had been her, that's where you'd find me. She was outside and she was looking out and trying to figure out what was next.  She said, "It suddenly came to me as clear as a bell. I am done. I am no longer committed to this. I do not need to go any further. I'm no longer even interested in the subject."  And that was it, for her. She stopped her program, and never looked back. Instead she decided to follow her passion.

I can understand how a person can get to the point in a program, job, career, or relationship....in any role actually, where you reach the end. Especially if what called you into the role in the first place has been satisfied, or if you only went into the commitment for reasons that had little to do with passion or love or purpose or some kind of drive. For myself, I loved all my graduate work because I waited until I'd found what I really wanted. I had a few starts and stops when I was trying to be practical earlier. But when I found my calling, I was motivated, driven, and happy as a clam to be doing the work. It was a great joy to finish my work, and to see it as the grounding for what I'd spend the rest of my life doing.  Or so I thought.

My training and what I've learned and discovered has been fulfilling. All by itself it satisfied a longing within me, and prepared me for being present for others who shared similar narratives and experiences. It was not, the end of the road though. In fact, it was just another beginning. I used my training and knowledge to do what I loved for a very long time, and then I knew I had to use that same training to bring some other part of myself to fruition.

The search for beauty, understanding, and healing through writing and and the arts, has opened a new life to me. There are endless possibilities, and each time I choose a  new direction in this, I discover how the past is always present in what I do and who I am.  I bring into each new experience all of what I've learned and experienced from the past. Nothing is wasted. Sometimes though, some of what I bring into the present is no longer necessary and in fact impedes my progress and growth and creativity.

Revising a novel is similar to reviewing one's life. Going back over something that happened rather spontaneously, sometimes planned but often haphazardly, we see where we could have done things differently. If we are really troubled by something in the past, say how long we stayed in a bad marriage or job, or how we allowed our family ties to bind us just a little too long, we attempt to fix it all in the present. We stew and moan and groan and feel the pain, all over again. Sometimes we carry the wounds of the past with us throughout our entire lives. We call it memory or experience or wisdom or abuse. Whatever we call it, it is not necessary to tote it around forever.

What does the past have to do with what causes us to get jammed up in the present? What do our attitudes, patterns of thinking and behavior have to do with how we create or learn or make choices now? Well for one major thing, they block up our thinking. We forget that we are no longer bound and tied in the basement of our past. We have options and the freedom to exercise them. We need to remind ourselves, periodically, that we can act on our own behalf. It seems that we can convince ourselves that 'this is how it is', or 'I've always been like this', or 'I'm too_____ to do _____'.  No, I say, that does not have to be the end of it. That is fear raising it's ugly head. Making us doubt or feel confused. We may have bought into someone's appraisal of who we are...someone who had no idea who we were, but gave us our marching instructions.

What I find in writing and all the detail work that goes with it, is that at some point I'm going to run into something that will make me feel like I can't get this done. At that point I need to stop and ask myself from where does that belief that I have arise? What makes me think that I cannot do this? You may find answers when you ask the questions, or you may not. Ask anyway, and then keep going. Sometimes our biggest fear is of the unknown. "I may not be able to get through this" or "I have no idea what I'm doing". We hear our old enemies' voices (inner critics and outer abusers) telling us we should find a back up, keep our day job, or  wait until later.  Others who seem to know more than we do might even be so cruel as to say "Why would you ever want to do that?" or "Why don't you get a real job?".  I'm sure if you've ever set out on an adventure, you remember the warnings.

My Mother's favorite was, "What if something happens? What will you do?"  I remember the last time she said this to me. I was getting ready to take a road trip alone. this was decades ago, but that particular conversation stands out as if it were a minute ago. I remember looking at her, and saying,
"If something happens, I'll take care of it."  I also remember several years later, shortly before she died, she told me, "I used to worry so much for you. I was afraid something would happen and you wouldn't know what to do. But I am so proud of you. You have done such a good job, and have made me proud."

What I would love to say to my Mother now is, thank you. Thank you for being concerned about me. No one else probably ever will care for me in the way my Mother did. But I would also like to say to her, "I'm sure something will happen. Something wonderful may happen. And many wonderful things did. Something not so wonderful many also happen, and I will have the courage, strength, spiritual wisdom, and support I need to cope with whatever that may be. I will be able to stand at your bedside as you lay dying, and be there for you like no one else. I will wipe your brow, sing songs to you, and unite our family in prayer as you pass into your heavenly body. I will have your love and support, and good sense with me all the days of my life. And when I'm feeling like I just don't know whether I can do this next thing, I'll remember you believed in me more than you worried about me. And that gives me something I can pass along to others. It also gives me strength for today, peace for the past, and trust in the future.

Whatever your calling is or whatever gifts and talents you have, allow yourself the freedom to step beyond fear, doubt, confusion, and security needs to pursue what will inevitably give you purpose, meaning, and fulfillment in life. And what you create out of this kind of commitment will touch others in ways you can only imagine. Keep going, in spite of obstacles, challenges, and times when you'd rather watch daytime soaps or binge watch Thrones. Let yourself  live your highest good, and when you do, you add to the ongoing Creation. We are the creators, and we can do more than we think we can. We can touch those we never know. And we can leave something of beauty and meaning to help lift and heal others. Let yourself loosen the ties that bind you and hold you back. Give yourself a pep talk, take a shower, and get back to work. You can do it.

Keeping On

A rainy day and one that hasn't necessarily gone as planned. Like any day ever does, but some days I know I want to get more done than I'm actually capable of doing. Does getting things done actually have anything to do with capabilities? Sometimes it does, other times it's more to do with motivation, desire, direction, or use of time. Occasionally, I use the term loosely, we over do. We have too many irons in the fire (from my blacksmith days in some other life), or we say "yes" when we really wanted to say "no".  For whatever reasons, our writing life (or artistic life or whatever kind of life you have going for yourself) seems to take on a life of its own.

Years ago when I was taking a class at Marylhurst University, I was sitting in a classroom in the library listening to a woman, the instructor, describe a transformational experience she had recently had. She was teaching a class on spiritual gifts and the development of intuition. I thought I might learn something about how to use my intuition and imagination better. Always one for self improvement, the two things I have plenty of are imagination and intuition. But never enough is my motto. Or it was. More and more lately, I'm seeing how harmful that can be. It takes us into a lifestyle of never being satisfied with anything. It keeps us either in the past or in the future, and has us racing around trying to get somewhere else....all the time. We're never where we are because that's not enough. We have to get to the next step, the next task, the next day, the next term, the next relationship, the next year....you get the picture.

What stood out most to me when listening to this professor talk about her own experience was how she actually got to be in that room teaching that particular class. She talked about having gone through a very rigorous Ph.D. program, and getting to the point where she had begun her dissertation. She, like many of us when we're nearing a goal, decided she needed to take a break. She was exhausted, and knew she'd never finish if she didn't take a break. So she headed out into the wilderness somewhere, and found herself sitting on a mountain top looking out across the valley below.  At least that's what I recall. If I had been her, that's where you'd find me. She was outside and she was looking out and trying to figure out what was next.  She said, "It suddenly came to me as clear as a bell. I am done. I am no longer committed to this. I do not need to go any further. I'm no longer even interested in the subject."  And that was it, for her. She stopped her program, and never looked back. Instead she decided to follow her passion.

I can understand how a person can get to the point in a program, job, career, or relationship....in any role actually, where you reach the end. Especially if what called you into the role in the first place has been satisfied, or if you only went into the commitment for reasons that had little to do with passion or love or purpose or some kind of drive. For myself, I loved all my graduate work because I waited until I'd found what I really wanted. I had a few starts and stops when I was trying to be practical earlier. But when I found my calling, I was motivated, driven, and happy as a clam to be doing the work. It was a great joy to finish my work, and to see it as the grounding for what I'd spend the rest of my life doing.  Or so I thought.

My training and what I've learned and discovered has been fulfilling. All by itself it satisfied a longing within me, and prepared me for being present for others who shared similar narratives and experiences. It was not, the end of the road though. In fact, it was just another beginning. I used my training and knowledge to do what I loved for a very long time, and then I knew I had to use that same training to bring some other part of myself to fruition.

The search for beauty, understanding, and healing through writing and and the arts, has opened a new life to me. There are endless possibilities, and each time I choose a  new direction in this, I discover how the past is always present in what I do and who I am.  I bring into each new experience all of what I've learned and experienced from the past. Nothing is wasted. Sometimes though, some of what I bring into the present is no longer necessary and in fact impedes my progress and growth and creativity.

Revising a novel is similar to reviewing one's life. Going back over something that happened rather spontaneously, sometimes planned but often haphazardly, we see where we could have done things differently. If we are really troubled by something in the past, say how long we stayed in a bad marriage or job, or how we allowed our family ties to bind us just a little too long, we attempt to fix it all in the present. We stew and moan and groan and feel the pain, all over again. Sometimes we carry the wounds of the past with us throughout our entire lives. We call it memory or experience or wisdom or abuse. Whatever we call it, it is not necessary to tote it around forever.

What does the past have to do with what causes us to get jammed up in the present? What do our attitudes, patterns of thinking and behavior have to do with how we create or learn or make choices now? Well for one major thing, they block up our thinking. We forget that we are no longer bound and tied in the basement of our past. We have options and the freedom to exercise them. We need to remind ourselves, periodically, that we can act on our own behalf. It seems that we can convince ourselves that 'this is how it is', or 'I've always been like this', or 'I'm too_____ to do _____'.  No, I say, that does not have to be the end of it. That is fear raising it's ugly head. Making us doubt or feel confused. We may have bought into someone's appraisal of who we are...someone who had no idea who we were, but gave us our marching instructions.

What I find in writing and all the detail work that goes with it, is that at some point I'm going to run into something that will make me feel like I can't get this done. At that point I need to stop and ask myself from where does that belief that I have arise? What makes me think that I cannot do this? You may find answers when you ask the questions, or you may not. Ask anyway, and then keep going. Sometimes our biggest fear is of the unknown. "I may not be able to get through this" or "I have no idea what I'm doing". We hear our old enemies' voices (inner critics and outer abusers) telling us we should find a back up, keep our day job, or  wait until later.  Others who seem to know more than we do might even be so cruel as to say "Why would you ever want to do that?" or "Why don't you get a real job?".  I'm sure if you've ever set out on an adventure, you remember the warnings.

My Mother's favorite was, "What if something happens? What will you do?"  I remember the last time she said this to me. I was getting ready to take a road trip alone. this was decades ago, but that particular conversation stands out as if it were a minute ago. I remember looking at her, and saying,
"If something happens, I'll take care of it."  I also remember several years later, shortly before she died, she told me, "I used to worry so much for you. I was afraid something would happen and you wouldn't know what to do. But I am so proud of you. You have done such a good job, and have made me proud."

What I would love to say to my Mother now is, thank you. Thank you for being concerned about me. No one else probably ever will care for me in the way my Mother did. But I would also like to say to her, "I'm sure something will happen. Something wonderful may happen. And many wonderful things did. Something not so wonderful many also happen, and I will have the courage, strength, spiritual wisdom, and support I need to cope with whatever that may be. I will be able to stand at your bedside as you lay dying, and be there for you like no one else. I will wipe your brow, sing songs to you, and unite our family in prayer as you pass into your heavenly body. I will have your love and support, and good sense with me all the days of my life. And when I'm feeling like I just don't know whether I can do this next thing, I'll remember you believed in me more than you worried about me. And that gives me something I can pass along to others. It also gives me strength for today, peace for the past, and trust in the future.

Whatever you calling is or whatever gifts and talents you have, allow yourself the freedom to step beyond fear, doubt, confusion, and security needs to pursue what will inevitably give you purpose, meaning, and fulfillment in life. And what you create out of this kind of commitment, will touch others in ways you can only imagine. Keep going, in spite of obstacles, challenges, and times when you'd rather watch daytime soaps or binge watch Thrones. Let yourself  live your highest good, and when you do, you add to the ongoing Creation. We are the creators, and we can do more than we think we can. We can touch those we never know. And we can leave something of beauty and meaning to help lift and heal others. Let yourself loosen the ties that bind you and hold you back. Give yourself a pep talk, take a shower, and get back to work. You can do it.

Breaking through the Logjam

Bursting Through the Log Jams

Writing is a lot like rafting on a river. There are spots that are swift and exciting. There are other spots where there seems to be a huge log jam hindering any progress forward. To move ahead, we need to get out of the boat and remove whatever is blocking our passage forward. That’s where I’ve been as I prepare for the 2nd revision of the WIP I’m working on. I’d love to say, “I’m finishing up”, and in a way that’s true. However at this point, it doesn’t feel like that.



Editing and revising can be slow and tedious. At the very least, it’s not very creative. Add to that the technological difficulties that are part and parcel when using a computer. Sluggish modems, new unfamiliar software, and mysterious crashes and missing documents. Oh nothing major, but those moments when you can’t find what was just in front of you. It can be frustrating and disheartening. Not to mention being at the far end of a long process, I’m ready to be done.



I took a wee break and did some organizing and house keeping. I got out and did a bit of socializing, and read more than usual. I made some good healthy meals, and had some great experiences with yoga and meditation, and last night at meditation, it hit me. I was feeling as if I was never going to get the river unblocked. Logjams don’t happen very often with most of what I write. I might have to step away from a piece for a few hours or a couple of days, but usually find my way to the end in a relatively short period of time. What was different?

One problem I had was I was counting. That’s right. When I finally got myself back into the daily routine of revising and editing, I began keeping track of how much I’d finished. That was probably a mistake. Three chapters in one day, two the next, and then ten. The Ten Day gave me lots of energy, and then also gave me permission to ‘take a little break’.  Taking little breaks when you’re working on getting momentum going, is also probably not a great idea. Pushing on is better, if only because if I finish up  a day’s work feeling like I’ve accomplished something, then I have more energy for going on. Oh, this all sounds so well thought out. It isn’t. I’m simply looking for explanations that help me understand my resistance to doing this part of the work.

The only other times I remember feeling like this was when I was completing my thesis and then my dissertation. The researching and writing part of those two projects was grueling and long.  When I got to the end, I was so relieved but also tired.  It’s not like the rest of life stops so you can write a graduate thesis. It’s not like you don’t have mounds of other responsibilities to do in addition to getting that dissertation done. Yet, I found myself at this time of the year many years ago, feeling as if I might never get to the end of the work. At that time, I had a fabulous dissertation advisor who helped me all along the way. She even flew all the way from New Zealand to spend a week helping me over the final stages of the dissertation–in essence, helping remove the log jam that was blocking the flow of energy at that time.

Last night in meditation as I listened to people talking about what they were each dealing with, I recognized the log jam factor. The point in any journey, situation, condition, relationship, or stage of development when we just know we have to get beyond something that is keeping us stuck. The point when knowing that, we still don’t know how to do it, or we think we don’t. On my refrigerator is a quotation I posted years ago. The crumpled, white piece of typing paper with the big block letters is faded and splattered with spaghetti sauce and other flying debris. The quotation is from author, John Hersey

It reads:  “To be a writer is to sit down at one’s desk in the chill portion of every day, and to write; not waiting for the little jet of the blue flame of genius to start from the breastbone–just plain going at it, in pain and delight To be a writer is to throw away a great deal, not to be satisfied, to type again, and then again and once more, and over and over.”

This quotation is held up by refrigerator magnets and reminds me every single morning, what my commitment is. And that is what writing is about. It is about a commitment to begin, develop, and complete something so that a portion of my story, a piece of a tale, or a bit of my observations of life are out of my head and imagination. The ideas and imagination have taken form through words, in the case of a writer, and are meant to be shared. Hopefully to be enjoyed and shared with others. And so I might not show up as often as others in public gatherings or in meetings or on committees or boards and the like. But I do show up every morning, at my writing table.

And when I show up at my writing table, I fight my way through all the voices and critics in my head that distract me from my mission. I stand firm in my own desire and commitment to do what I set out to do. In this case, to complete my first mystery novel. The fun part was the initial telling of the story. And I’m finding out that I can go back into the story and change things a bit here and a bit there, and actually make the story more intriguing or easier to read or more sensually alive.  For two weeks, I’ve been struggling with the logjam that is not a physical block. It is a block of my will and determination that has talked me out of trying a little harder or pushing myself on. I keep telling myself, I’m not getting enough done. I’m not making much progress, and then sure enough, that’s what it feels like.

Part of the logjam has been my negative perspective on what I’m doing. Knowing that, will I change it?  Last week I finished 7 chapters. This week I have finished 21 more. I now have only 56 more to go.  Numbers overwhelm me, so let’s not count too often. Once a week, take stock, and know that we are moving right along. The flow is increasing. The time wasted worrying, fretting, or stewing is lessening. The numbers are growing in the right direction, and it will be done when it’s done. If I analyze my progress, at the rate I’ve been moving, I should be done in 4 weeks. Unless, that is, I get an influx of energy and have more 10 days than not. Then it can be finished sooner. After that, I’m leaving the copyediting to someone else because at this point, I no longer see what is on the page. It’s all too familiar to me.

In the meantime I have some plans to keep me from getting stuck in a logjam again. I’m doing other kinds of writing so I keep my creative juices flowing. I’m doing something creative that is not writing…not sure what though I’ve been playing with watercolors and pen and ink sketches. Maybe I’ll build something. When I finished my Bachelors degrees, what I longed to do was move to the Oregon Coast, find and old barn to disassemble and build a house. Instead, I cut my hair and bought myself a beautiful Rosewood guitar and I took some classical guitar lessons. I still play the guitar, and now have two–one here in Oregon, the other, the Rosewood, in San Francisco at my Daughter’s house. I play when I take time. Last night on the Full Moon energy, I turned music back on in my life.

It’s been months since I’ve enjoyed music. A good friend, musician Mark Josephs died right after the first of the year, and it’s been hard for me to enjoy music since his death. Music connects us to old loves, losses, and connections. Over a year and a half ago, my long weird wacky marriage ended, and so much of the music of my life is wrapped up in that lost love. Music brought me to a place of peace with my long-dead Father, and helped seal up a little more of the lingering rifts that separate us from those we love. Music is also what brings us to life, and so what came to me last night was it is time for some new music in my life. Something that helps me form new connections and new memories. Something that brings new life into my life. New meaning into whatever I do, including the writing.

Logjams can be found in all kinds of places in our lives. In our work, in our relationships, in the way we live, or the way we think. But what seems important to recognize, to me, is that it’s all about how we think about it. Our thinking makes it so. That’s a Motherism…probably a quote from the Scot poet, Robert Burns. She was always quoting Bobby Burns. For me, the cool stillness of the early morning, is where I have found my sweet spot, my time to write and ride the flow of the river of thought, imagination, and the mystical writing fairies who do show up, if I do. So I will just continue ”

Get On Your Mark. Get Set. Revise!

Writing anything is a lot like a sport. It requires being in good condition. It necessitates having a clear idea of what you're doing and where you're headed. And it requires a plan for getting from the start of the game or race to the finish line. This past year my goals changed drastically. Nearly a year ago, I did a reassessment of what kinds of writing I wanted to do, and what I wanted to let go of in order to focus on my goals.  At the time, I wasn't sure how it was going to turn out, but at this point, I can say, I'm very glad I switched to a new game.

For years I'd played around with an idea for a mystery novel. It sat on the shelf, in a file folder, and on flopping discs and then hard drives, until I had some spare time to work on it. The mystery novel seed was always at the bottom of the priorities list.  That is until last year when once again I pulled it out, to work on it.  This time however, I asked someone else to read what I'd done so far. It was only about 5-6 chapters into a story...not much for so many years of keeping the project on the top shelf of my closet. This time however, I wanted to get some feedback from someone who knew writing. I wanted to see if there was enough started to be worth making it a priority or not.

Not only were the first few chapters interesting to the reader, they also sparked an interest in her to help me get the project off the ground. Since then, my writing life has been devoted to writing the first draft of my first novel, Body on the Beach.  Early in the summer I finished the first draft, and then I set to work revising it. After a first run through, I set the draft aside for a week to decide what I wanted to do next. More work was needed getting rid of some pieces that didn't add to the story, and getting more involved with my main characters.  I also needed some rest. So rather than continuing to piddle away editing or redoing one thing or another, I simply put the manuscript aside.

The first time through with any kind of experience is always about learning by doing, at least it is for me. This has definitely been a learning experience. And what has helped me a lot is listening to other writers and my editor/reader.  Also wanting to make things easier and more efficient for my editor/reader, has made me come up with some ways to cut down on excess paperwork, unnecessary repetition, and needless busy work.  One  of the best things for me was having a skilled reader and editor who urged me not to look back. She continually encouraged me to keep writing.

One of the problems I have as a writer is that I am also an editor and teacher. As a result, I am hypercritical of my work, and yet that does not serve me well. It cuts into the pleasure of being creative. During the revision of this book, which we have nicknamed BOB, I have had the tendency to spend too much time on copy editing, and not enough time yet, on really developing the characters and flow as I want to.

This last week I found I just couldn't go any further. I decided the best thing to do was to change things up, and vary my routine.  Took time to socialize with friends, did some light reading, and took lots of naps. Got back into my dreams, and began considering how to change the layout of my office. Moved my desk, and am setting the scene for the next phase of the revision process. I also took some time to cook and clean up a bit.  Took some nice walks, got out and did a bunch of photography, and caught up with a lot of things that have been overlooked while I've been so focused on writing.Earlier a the end of last week, my reader/editor and I met to kick back and relax and to talk about what we wanted to do next.

Thanks to some great advice I got from author, Angela M. Sanders of Portland, Oregon (and Paris in the summer), I am now using a new type of software that is designed for writers. The software is so much more compatible for writing a novel than what we have been doing most of the year. I introduced my reader/editor to it, hoping she would like it. And she did. So earlier this week I contacted the software company to find out how to go about equipping her with the software. Taking care of details, getting things in order, including me, and looking forward to setting out a plan of action to bring this book to its conclusion.

That reminded me of an email conversation I had years ago with another writer, C. Hope Clarke. It was mid-summer, and she was just about where I am with her first novel, Lowcountry Bribe.  She was asking herself the same kinds of questions I am asking myself right now? What next? What order  should I tackle this? And am I ever going to finish?  The one question I try not to spend too much time on, is "Is it any good?"  At this point, I know it's pretty good, and what I want to do is clean it up and tighten it up, and get it ready for market.  When she was asking herself the questions about her first book, I was asking myself the questions of how to start bringing some of my writing projects to a conclusion?

Our mutual conversations, and the support I received from her and other writers, has provided me with what I needed to get 6 books finished, published, and on the market. Three books of poetry, a book on understanding the Tarot, an inspirational books, and my latest book, a collection of essays entitled, Tales from the Lily Pad.  Last year at the end of August, I decided to put BOB at the top of my list, and have been working on it steadily ever since.

Yesterday after yoga and coffee with a couple of friends, I decided I was getting fidgety and anxious to get back to work. Instead of doing it right away, I just let myself notice how I felt.  I decided to let myself have the weekend off, and then get set to start work again on Monday morning. Today I had a massage, and noticed how much my body still needs to be worked on. Part of my writing routine includes yoga, but it's going to have to also include some more swimming, walking, and healthy activities to keep my body and the rest of me in good shape.

And then there's the question, "Where do I begin?"  Ask the question and sure enough, someone is bound to have an answer. After going for my massage, getting some lunch, and sitting on top of the hill looking out at the river on this beautiful day, I drove home to rest.  I opened my Facebook page, and noticed an article written by San Francisco author, Susan Ito. Her article was on, you guessed it, revision.  She teaches some workshops on revision, and her article was the perfect answer for what I needed. She outlined just the things I'm going to do, and explained them in a very practical way--a way that put order and organization into place for me.  So what I'm going to do for the rest of the weekend is relax, and get outdoors to enjoy life.

The writing process, no matter what kind of writing we do, is something that demands an understanding of how much control and order we need to keep things in shape, and how much freedom and letting go we need to let our characters tell us their stories. Whenever I take a break from the creative part of writing, I have this sense that my characters are all sitting just above me, chit chatting over tea and toast, calling out to me, and urging me to get back to the table with them. I can hardly wait. Ready or not, here I come.

Pain, the Great Motivator

Tulips in Bloom                                                                                                                           Catherine Al-Meten Meyers

Pain is something we all experience at one time or another. For some of us pain is physical, for others it is emotional or psychological. Pain can be that overwhelming existential dread of spiritual loss or soulful despair. Pain is caused by many things. It provides an early warning system for us to head off worse trouble. Pain can also be a reminder of something that was enjoyable, pleasurable, and even fulfilling. One thing about pain; it can be a great motivator.

For the last week, I have wanted to write this article. As with all times when I'm pondering an idea or when, a topic keeps announcing itself over and over in my head, I find that whatever it is I'm considering for an article or essay or some other piece of writing, pops up all around me. And so it has been for the last week or so. People I barely know have begun telling me their stories of pain. People have been sharing their own experiences of pain, and the news is full of pain. Pain so deep it is almost stunning in the way it stills and affects us. And yet, pain is there, waiting for us to respond.

For me, the pain has come in physical pain connected with dealing with old injuries, repetitive motion related to my writing lifestyle, and with the aging process. As my life has become a bit more sedentary than it has been, my need for exercise has increased. When I don't remember that need, I pay the price. In this case, my knees have been causing me trouble. My propensity for moving furniture in the middle of the night as a means of psychotherapy, has caused me to overdue and injure one of my knees. In the process of trying to rehab the one knee, I have overcompensated with the other, and now both are bringing me--forgive me--to my knees. Both literally and figuratively, my knees being in pain has called me to remember what I had conveniently forgotten. I need to keep moving and exercising in order to keep them working properly.

Knees are something I can do something about. The underlying issue for me, is remembering to take care of myself. And that is determined by knowing who I am now. Knowing what my needs are beyond my flaming desire to finish a book, line up more projects, or keep going on a review or essay I'm working on. Pain reminds us of who we are when we have gone beyond our limitations. When we have overstepped the boundaries or pushed too hard.

One of the people with whom I've had a couple of conversations is a man who recently had a multiple bypass operation to repair his heart in order to save his life. A very successful, talented, driven man, he told me how he was having a hard time tempering his movements and becoming this new person who was limited and not supposed to be pushing beyond the limits. He told me he wasn't even supposed to lift more than pounds, and as I heard that, I almost fainted. I lift more than 10 pounds when I pick up the cat litter and carry it up the steep flight of stairs to my home. What the real problem for him though was tapering back and not doing what he'd spent his whole life doing and that is getting things done. To make matters worse for this gentleman is that shortly after he had his surgery and was still recovering, his wife had a serious medical emergency, and he immediately jumped into the taking care mode as she bravely fought for her life. When two partners have such close calls, pain reminds them that life must change dramatically.

Pain reminds us that we must not go back to 'life as usual'. Pain requires an adjustment, and too often when someone becomes incapacitated, they sit down and stop. They tire of boring and often painful rehabilitation, and they settle into using pain killers and letting the body parts 'rest'. This usually happens because we forget that by doing the rehabilitation we can improve our chances of getting stronger, healthier, and more fit. And we can improve our overall health and well being. But it means we have to get up off the comfortable place we've found to relieve ourselves of pain, and move into the routines and habits that will help us.

Pain does require rest and easing up, but it also requires the correct form of strength building and healing movement. There's a reason doctors get us out of bed walking as soon as possible after surgery. The old adage, "move it or lose it" is in fact, true. One of my favorite mystery writers, J.A. Jance recently shared her own experience of pain. She too, like many writers, had gotten to the point where her knees caused her so much pain, she could barely walk. Her health was deteriorating in a number of ways, as was that of her husband. They both began walking daily, with the goal of 10,000 steps. Neither was able to do 10,000 right away, but gradually have both achieved that goal, and have both improved their health tremendously. They did more than walk. They got more rest. They started eating better, and they did some strength training. And now their lives are both more active and less full of pain.  I remember writer, Brenda Ueland who in her 80s walked 8-10 miles a day. When I first read this, I thought it was out of my reach. Now I believe she had the right idea.

For writers dealing with pain requires taking regular and frequent breaks. Stopping when you're on a roll writing, may be difficult, but it will enable you to write more in the long run. Getting regular exercise that focuses on the areas of your body that are most abused by writing is essential. I do yoga 4-5 times a week, and am going to start taking the head and shoulders class that is held early one morning. I got out of my regular practice because I like to write in the mornings, but the trade off of my morning writing time and less pain and a healthier body seem to be worth it to me.

My daughter got me a fitbit because I told her I wanted to keep track of my walking. It also tells me about my heart rate and my sleep patterns as well as how many calories I'm burning. I've had it for more than a month now and have gotten a reality check. As I walk around, I tell myself I'm doing fine, and then I look to see that as a rule, I'm only walking about half what I need to be doing. My sleep patterns also showed me that my night owl status worked most of the time, but several times a week it was better for me to go to be earlier than I usually did. We adjust as our lives change. And I know we all get into the mind set that we are still living like we used to.  As an educator, I was on the move day and night. Now I have to build movement into my daily routine.

As we move through the seasons of our lives, and I'm not necessarily talking about age, we need to adjust to who we have become. New work, new babies, new relationships, as well as endings, deaths, divorces, and all matter of life style changes, require that we treat ourselves differently. Grief and loss can exhaust us like nothing else, for example.  A new romance may tire us out as well as elate us, increasing the release of good hormones and chemicals in our bodies. Whatever lifestyle changes you go through, even seasonal ones, notice what needs to change to alleviate or deal with pain.

And one of the biggest and most challenging aspects of our lives is how we respond to the world around us.--to the pain of living in a world where we inflict such pain on one another. After many years of living through the impact, chronic stress, and effects of contact trauma brought about by war and politcal upheaval, I learned to pay attention to what I let into my experience. I worked with political refugees and immigrants for many years, and learned from them how best to handle the ongoing effects of trauma and violence. My goal when I began my study of violence, terrorism, and trauma was to determine how those who survived, did so with their sanity intact and with the ability to live, love, and be productive and relatively happy. What I learned has helped me, and I hope will help you too, in dealing with pain that we feel when we experience either our own pain or that of others.

Pain requires taking positive steps forward. It requires not reinjuring ourselves, and it requires treating ourselves gently. It requires recognizing that our whole system (physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual) is designed for survival and for allowing us to live life fully. To do that, we cannot subject ourselves to too much of anything. We cannot drive our bodies so hard that they break. We cannot overload ourselves emotionally to the point where we can no longer function or support our own needs. We cannot dwell on obsessive thoughts or get so caught up in fear and anxiety that we stop being able to function. We cannot dwell in darkness and live in despair. To do so, whether because our own personal pain is so great or the collective pain, so overwhelming, is to choose death over life.

This morning, I listened to Steven Colbert and I read an article by Dorthy Day. Both people were dedicated to raising our collective spirits and to helping those who needed it most. Both talked of the power of love to move, shape, heal, and support. And whether it be for very personal reasons and situations or for the collective healing of the world we are living in and our compatriots of this journey of life, we can use love to help heal ourselves and others.

Local musicians and artists in our little community of Astoria, Oregon, recently put together a fundraiser to raise money to support the efforts to help the homeless here. It was held this past weekend the same weekend that Astoria held its first Gay Pride Celebration. At the time, I thought the Gay Pride was long overdue, seeing that most places had been acknwledging the LGBT communities for years and even decades. What became crystal clear to me though, was that what started as an urban movement supported first by educational insituttions and then by government, was slow in coming to many outside the fringes of urban centers. These two groups in our community represent those who suffer among us. Different kinds of pain, but both representative of the outcasts that Jesus embraced and pled with us to love.

We are motivated by pain and we live in the aftermath of whatever we experience in our lives. We are motivated by the pain of others as well as our own pain, and what we can do is take whatever steps we can to help address that pain. The answer is to love ourselves enough to do what is necessary for our highest good, best health, and our well being. The answer is to acknowledge and do something to soothe the pain of others, and to stop whatever is causing the pain. Stop doing what you do to cause pain to yourself. Stop doing what you do to hurt anyone else. Be kinder to yourself and others. Acknowledge your own gifts and those of others. We are each here, created to use our gifts for some expression of that Love that we reflect from our Creator.

Remembering Who We Are

Blossoming                                                                                                                             Catherine Meyers

At a point in between one phase of a project, in this case a book, and the next, in this case the edit and revision stage, there is a lull. A time to stretch my legs, air out the house, clear my mind, desk, and calendar, and a time to take stock. As part of this in between time, I continue to write and today my reflections on May, seem to have streamed out of a place, a place alive within me, that is bursting forth. Each step I take, each breath, each turning of the clock, and each incoming and going out of the tides, reminds me, of Life. 

May is a month for remembering. For centuries May was the month when the Ancient Greeks revered Artemis, the Goddess of fecundity. The Ancient Romans honored Flora, the Goddess of Blooms and Blossoms. Traditionally in many cultures, May is the time for the start of new growth. Today, with the New Moon in Taurus, we are at the threshold of another new beginning. 

For those of us who honor the Blessed Mother, May is the Month of Mary. Sometimes called the Lady Month, it is a time when special devotions are done to honor the place of Mary as a light and model for all women. It is also a time to revered those whom we have lost; a time of remembrance and reverance to the special place those people held in our lives while they were living. This weekend marks the anniversary date of my Father's death. This year it falls on Mother's Day. 

During the Lady Month, we crown and celebrate the beauty, grace, and strength within each of us...that light and energy that we share in common with all women and with those special women who have set for us an example of what we can be, what we can bear, and what we can overcome and thrive beyond. The month of Mary is not about worshipping goddesses or venerating vestal virgins, at least not for me. For me it is a time when I celebrate life and being alive. Being a living, breathing, growing, aging, and ripening part of humanity that is bursting into blossom like some Tulip Tree or Magnolia. Big, fragrant, dipped in honey blossoms. 

It's about breathing in and out, the fresh air, the salty sea spray, the rich fragrances of roses, the pungent smell of day lilies, or the swampy, boggy odor of the camas, willows, and grasses growing on the riverbed. It's about the sweaty smells of joggers running for their lives along the riverwalk, or the bundled up children running barefoot at the waterline along the beach. It's the river's ebbing tidal pull and they muddy, silty riverbottom's odors and patterns and temporary revelations that speak to me of May and remembering. 

May is about dressing up in lighter, frillier, and more pastel shades and fashons, and about letting our hair down, and smiling more and feeling lighter and less burdened down if for no other reason than we're wearing fewer clothes. Bare feet, bare arms, skinny dipping in frigid streams, and toes turning blue in the arctic, icy waters of the Zig Zag, its streams nothing more than freshly melted ice off W'east. Gentle breezes. Longer days, stretching well into the purple sunsets that blaze like fire in the sky at day's end. Bodies stretching out of their introverted modes to emerge into the sunlight and play with others dancing along the path of life, laughter, and the endless search for be-ing. 

May is the month for remembering the gifts of being women. And it is also a time to remember our needs as women to share our lives with the men in our lives who celebrate and honor life in the same direction. Time to throw off the capes that we use to hide or protect ourselves from living. Time to walk, dance, swim, sing, propel ourselves beyond the edges of normalcy into the stream and flow of Life's great river. Flowing in the channel, across the bar, into the open Sea, and out onto the highways of new adventures, new chapters, and new beginnings. Equipped with the past's lessons learned, and fortified with the graces that allow us to be free, it is time to celebrate Life as we find it, and let ourselves once more simply be.

Books Make Better Lovers

Bleeding Hearts and Pines                                                                                                      Catherine Al-Meten Meyers

Many would disagree with me that books make better lovers. I might not always think so, but today I believe it's true. Just completed the first rough draft of a book I've spent years thinking about and working on. We've had a real love affair along the way. Sometimes we have refused to speak to one another, and often I had no time for my love. About  8 months ago, we had a recommitment ceremony with one another, and we pledged our loyalty til death do us part. So you know it was a serious commitment.

Every day we'd wake up, look at one another and spend much of the day together. When either of us was away, we'd be thinking about one another. There were times during that eight months when we ran into challenges and had to surmount some pretty big obstacles. I was called out of town a few times, and had to leave my love all alone. Pining at home, waiting for me, I hoped, I would return at the end of the day only to discover that nothing had been done while I was gone. Not a thing. No cleaning up messes. No preparation and rest for the next chapter or the much-needed edit. We would spend time in counseling with our Reader-Editor. In our case, therapy with her really helped us out.

Counseling sessions often revolved around trying to remember who had been married to whom, what someone's name had been in Chapter 6 and how it changed 4 times by Chapter 80. Often we found ourselves repeating, verbatim, a conversation and story plot that we had already covered in the past. I often thought bringing up the past over and over was getting us no where. We spent a lot of time counting pages.  I hate it when someone keeps track of everything that has happened, but in this case, it somehow seemed relevant, and since we love one another and are in it 'til the end, I figured I'm be tolerant of the list-keeping. We laughed a lot, especially over Renee...a character who seemed to have multiple marriages. Not that I'd know anything about that. But it cause our Reader-Editor-Therapist and I to laugh until we cried.

Coffee, tea, and soda have been important parts of our relationship. I never have coffee at home. Ours is a house dedicated to the tea and the daily and nightly tea ceremonies. But my need for Cafe au Lait mid afternoon and occasionally in the morning, are also related for my need to sit and gaze out the window occasionally. I used to do a lot of writing in cafes, but since my lover and I have been together, we stay at home more. I sneak out to meet friends or just have a quiet time to myself at my favorite coffee shop on the pier. They know me and know how to make my Cafe au Lait just perfectly---more milk than coffee. One sweet gal even adds the right amount of sweeter I like.

Yesterday our relationship changed drastically. I finished writing the rough draft. It's a lot like getting through the first decade of a marriage and being too far in it to get out but not fully into it enough to believe you'll make it to the bitter or sweet end. So before I met the challenges, I rushed off to the coffee shop to share the news of my joy. Then I ran back home and spent some time fantasizing about a long vacation and some rest before getting back to work on fixing things that have to be done before we can go to publication. Plans were made to celebrate with our therapist-editor-reader over a martini at Happy Hour next week, and another friend and I made plans to pop the cork on a bottle of celebratory champagne. I put my head on the pillow last night envisioning a leisurely week of doing nothing but catching up with exercise, housework, and long walks along the river.

This morning though, I woke up late. That cats were sitting one on my pillow the other on the other side of me, both waiting for the first signs of life. Once I opened one eye, they both proceeded to greet me with lots of attention and indicated that they'd waited long enough for me to wake and get back to the business of filling their bowls with kibble, fresh water, and fresh food out of a can, not that half can left over from last night. I obeyed, and then picked things up around the house. Now, I thought, I have time to make that coat rack I so desparately need. I thought this as I picked up, folded, or hung up about 5 jackets and sweaters that had been draped around chairs, over the back of the couch, or hung on a door handle. Around noon I made myself a big breakfast, and the thought I'd just catch up on a movie or read a book or do the dishes again.  After doing the dishes for the umpteenth time (I have yet to learn to eat and cook without making a total mess of my kitchen. At this point, I doubt that's going to change), I had these strange stirrings.

What was it I was feeling? I had some time off from writing. I was no longer chained, day and night to my lover. My love was fine where it was, for now. It would just have to wait until I was good and ready to return, and maybe continue on. Today was a free day. The world was mine. I had all the time in the world until I had to be somewhere. But this niggling feeling crept over me, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to pick up my lover and get completely lost in the words and images that I'd grown to love so dearly. To give myself some place to process those feelings, because my Therapist-editor-writer is not about, I decided to write about it.

I have to admit that loving what I'm writing as I do this book, is something unlike any other kind of love.  It has taken on a life of its own. And being away from it is not really something I need to do and that's a sure sign that the passion and love affair with a book has the power to keep me captivated and devoted. I know this from other kinds of books I've written and writng I have done, but this journey into fantasy and fiction and imagination is a lover I hope to devote myself to for the rest of my long, lovely life. And I know when this love affair is over, I will be able to return to it any time I want. I will be able to open it at night and look deep into its depths and find pieces of myself that I didn't know existed. I will be able to see the world reflected in places and pieces of conversation. Memories  reawakened after years of being hidden or dormant or lost in some maze of expectations or unfulfilled desires...and they will find their place in the context of what is created through this new love. I love that I am the Lover.