January 16, 2021

Taking care

“Self-care has become a new priority – the revelation that it’s perfectly permissible to listen to your body and do what it needs.”
― Frances Ryan

My first “work of art”

Frances Ryan (as noted in the quote above) must have a hidden camera on me. Because self-care has become my new priority.

I discovered it while journaling last week. Sounds trite, I know. But that’s how it happened. I was feeling really drained and depressed. The pandemic, racial strife, a struggling economy and worldwide chaos are enough. But I’m facing some health and family issues that are weighing on me as well.

Life seemed gray and listless. I was in a foul mood and had to keep a tight rein on myself so I didn’t lash out at the cats or my husband.

My journal to the rescue

Sometimes when you get like that it’s hard to do anything to help yourself. So I stayed in that unhappy place for a while.

And then I journaled. I just wrote down everything I thought and felt – I was hopeless, empty and in need of nurture.

In the past, I’ve often looked to others or to God to nurture me when I’m down. And to some extent, there’s nothing wrong with that.

But this time, through journaling, I realized that there are ways to take care of myself.

Feeding my soul

Last week, I wrote about the joys of reading. And right now, that’s pretty much all I want to do. I splurged and bought John Grisham’s newest hardback. I scoured the library online for mindless and fun ebooks. And I gave myself permission to read as much as I want. What a luxury that feeds my soul.

And then I stumbled on something at Costco that was a real answer to my need for nurture. It’s a coloring book! It has colored pens and a tablet of designs with inspirational sayings. I am now onto my second “work of art” and I find it absorbing, relaxing and yes – nurturing.

I’ve always told myself I wanted to learn to paint when I retire. I’ve taken painting classes in the past and loved it. Maybe this is a baby step in that direction. Who knows? Whatever it is, I’m loving it.

Just doing these two things – reading and coloring – have hoisted me out of my pit. Hallelujah.

“Be you, love you. All ways, always.”
― Alexandra Elle

Writing spark

Sit down with your journal, take three deep breaths and write down one thing you can do to take care of yourself. If you can think of five, go for it. And then follow through. Make time to do something that feeds your spirit and gives you a boost.

 

 

Learning to read

“Everywhere I have sought peace and not found it, except
in a corner with a book.
” ― Thomas a Kempis

A not so funny thing happened to me on the way to getting a bachelor’s degree in journalism. I learned to hate reading. That’s right – I hated it. Here I was, a person who supposedly loved words and loved to write, but I didn’t want to read.

There was a good reason for this sorry situation. In college I had to read so many tedious textbooks and spend endless hours at the library poring over boring research materials. The result was that reading became a chore. It wasn’t fun. It was drudgery.

In my young adult years, I read lots of newspapers and magazines. If I read a book it was usually nonfiction. I’d been burned by too many dull pages of stuff I had to pound into my head so I could pass some exam.

My awakening

Now, to me, this should not be. I think an essential part of the educational process should be instilling in people a love of all kinds of written works – fiction, nonfiction, history, current events, etc.

After all, there is tremendous knowledge to be gained from this one simple thing. If we want to keep learning and growing after we complete an education, one of the best ways is through reading.

Fortunately, my aversion to reading dissolved when a friend invited me to his book group. This bunch picked some great books of a wide variety and I had a blast reading and discussing them. A whole new world opened up to me and I haven’t looked back.

Making up for lost time

Nowadays, I’m known to have at least two books going at once – sometimes three or more. I listen to audio books when I walk, read my Kindle every night before I go to sleep, and turn the pages of a paperback whenever I can.

Many of my friends are avid readers and I’m forever pestering them for book suggestions.

I’ve shed my ill-gotten distaste for reading and now I can’t get enough of it.

It’s a good thing, too. I call myself a writer and devote myself to the craft. How can I expect to be good at writing if I don’t read?

I just have one rule, though. If I don’t like a book, I put it down. My days of reading something that bores me are over.

PS: A corollary to this rule is that I can read whatever I want. Right now, in the midst of a pandemic and general worldwide chaos, all I want to read are detective mysteries and courtroom dramas. Thank God for Michael Connelly and John Grisham.

 

Writing spark

Consider keeping a book journal. You can keep one online at Goodreads.com or do it the old-fashioned way in a notebook. The advantage of a website like Goodreads is that you can connect with friends and find out what they’re reading. You can also write book reviews and keep a record of what you’ve read.

 

Defeating the cowardly lion

The Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz

I’m afraid there’s no denyin’
I’m just a dandy-lion
A fate I don’t deserve
I’m sure I could show my prowess
Be a lion, not a mouse
If I only had the nerve

 

Years ago, I made one of the most courageous decisions I can recall. It may not sound like a big deal, but for me it was a huge step. I decided to join Toastmasters so I could overcome my fear of public speaking.

At the time, I was deeply shy, overly introverted and struggled mightily in social situations. I did okay one-on-one and in small groups. But put me in front of an audience and my heart pounded, my mouth went dry and my voice hushed almost to a whisper.

Anxiety about public speaking is not unique, of course. It often ranks high on top ten lists of things that people fear most. One such list ranked fear of public speaking above fear of death. So I wasn’t alone in my dread.

Why I did it

I didn’t become a Toastmaster just so I could conquer one of my demons. At the time, I was a budding speechwriter. I felt I needed to learn everything I could about the art of public speaking so I could write topnotch speeches. Plus, I could market my speechwriting business by making presentations and talks.

Joining Toastmasters was a game-changer for me. I spent five years in that small and close-knit club, got two Toastmasters certifications and even won a public speaking competition. One speech I gave turned into a book – My Father’s Eyes.

But the best part of the experience was that it freed me from my shy little shell. I became more self-confident and comfortable in social situations.

BT and AT

It’s been 25 years since my Toastmasters days and since then I’ve given countless speeches and conducted many writing workshops. I now talk to total strangers in the grocery store and my husband has even accused me of being an extrovert!

Becoming adept at something that once terrified me was so pivotal that I sometimes look at my life in terms of Before Toastmasters (BT) and After Toastmasters (AT).

But like the cowardly lion in the Wizard of Oz, I found I had more courage than I thought. I just had to grab hold of it and hold on for the ride.

 

Writing spark

It takes courage to live fully and overcome our fears. It takes courage to live, period – especially in this chaotic time. This week’s writing spark is about courage – big steps and little ones. You may want to focus on a momentous act of courage in your life or think about the daily acts of courage that get you through. Here are two thoughts to get you thinking and writing:

 

What is the most courageous decision you’ve made or the bravest thing you’ve done? How did it turn out and how has it impacted you and your life?

What small acts of courage can you identify in your daily life?

Good grief! Again!

[This is a brief piece I wrote for my BRAINZ writing prompt group. The May one-word prompt was SHOCKS.]

Sometimes I’d swear I was Charlie Brown in a previous life. I never seem to learn that Lucy is going to jerk the football away just when I try to kick it. I end up flat on my face, furious with myself for being so gullible. Furious that once more, I have to pick myself up, dust off and remind myself to be smarter next time.

              My naiveté has led to many shocks along the way. The first that comes to mind was in the late 1970s when I was just out of college and at my first job as a journalist. I was working for a newspaper in Fort Worth during the trial of T. Cullen Davis, the oil millionaire accused of murdering two people and wounding two others at his ritzy mansion.

              It was “the trial of the century” in Fort Worth and for most of Texas. During weeks of testimony, three eyewitnesses at the mansion identified Davis as the shooter. It seemed a slam dunk case.

              I was still a full-fledged Charlie Brown at heart then, so imagine my shock when I heard the “not guilty” verdict over the radio. I couldn’t believe it. I had yet to realize that our justice system is far from perfect and that if you are wealthy, you can hire a high-powered lawyer and have a better chance of beating a rap.

              I guess too much time passed between the T. Cullen Davis verdict and the O.J. Simpson case for me to remember this bit of wisdom. Because once again, I was shocked, stunned that the man was acquitted. Silly me.

              But enough of the criminal justice system. My Charlie Brown tendencies have led to many shocks in my personal and professional lives as well. From backstabbing bosses to cheating boyfriends, there were plenty of folks I shouldn’t have trusted along the way. But I still did.

              Now that I’m considered a “senior,” I like to think I’ve shed some of my gullibility. That I’m older and wiser about human nature and frailties. I know it’s an imperfect world, but I still believe that there’s good in almost everyone. That most people are doing their best and just trying to survive in a crazy world. There’s one exception, though. I’ll never trust Lucy. We’re done.  

My own personal wailing wall

“The journal has always been a story catcher, a worry catcher, pattern catcher.” — Ahava Shira

The Wailing Wall in Jerusalem

Lately I’ve been thinking about a character in the book The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. One of the players in the story is a black woman named May Boatright who lives in South Carolina in the 1960s. May is deeply sensitive and has a hard time existing in a world where there is so much pain and violence.

She lives with her two sisters and they build a wailing wall for May, just like the one in Jerusalem. May writes down her anguish on pieces of paper and wedges them into cracks in that wall. Somehow, it helps May cope with her sadness.

No empty cracks

If I had a wailing wall right now, there probably wouldn’t be any empty cracks. I would already have stuffed every one with notes about all the chaos, anger, death and fear I see in the world. I feel like May – it almost hurts too much to pay attention to what’s going on around me.

As a result, I’ve cut way back on my news consumption, and that’s saying a lot for a woman who spent 12 years in the news business. I’ve got ink in my veins; staying informed is part of my DNA.

But right now, the world is too much for me to handle. I can only take it in small doses. And I’m almost grateful that I’m being told to cocoon for as long as I can.

My trusty friend

Even though I don’t have my own personal wailing wall, I do have a trusty spiral notebook – my ever-present friend The Journal. And writing down my feelings in it feels like a kind of relief from the madness.

When I write in my journal I do many things. I pray, figure things out, listen to my inner voice and dump whatever darkness there is inside me onto the page.

It is my hope that among many things, your journal can be your own personal wailing wall. That the mere act of writing down your pain and confusion will soften the blows of living in this time of pandemic, strife and division.

 

Writing spark

Imagine that your journal is your own wailing wall. Take 10 minutes and write about one thing that’s troubling you right now. As Tristine Rainer says, write fast, write everything and accept what comes. When you’re done, notice how you feel. If you need to write more on the subject, do so.

Until next week, stay well, be kind and keep writing.

Making friends with my feelings

The best way out is always through.” — Robert Frost

I don’t know about you, but I grew up in a home where feelings were not allowed. Especially anger. Crying was not especially welcome either.

My mother in particular hated it when I cried. When she broke the news to me over the telephone that my father had died unexpectedly, I burst into tears. Even then she told me not to cry.

There was one exception to this taboo on feelings. My father was allowed to be angry. And that seemed to be the extent of his emotional range.

Product of their times

I’m making my parents out to be cold and awful, but they weren’t. They loved me and my siblings dearly and they were wonderful, honest and hard-working people. But they were a product of their times.

Both grew up in the Great Depression when folks sucked it up and trudged onward. Both were raised in very dysfunctional families and suffered a lot of emotional damage from those experiences.

On top of it all, my father saw combat in World War II, providing him an additional opportunity to shut down emotionally.

So I came by estrangement from my emotions honestly.

The turning point

Fortunately, at one point in my adulthood, I stumbled across a book about loving your feelings. I can’t remember the title. But basically it said there’s no right or wrong to feelings. They’re just a part of life and if you pay attention to them, they give you valuable information.

Ignoring them or pretending they don’t exist just causes them to gnaw at your inner being until eventually, if you’re lucky, you’re forced to face and deal with them. You have to walk up to emotions, sit down with them, listen to what they’re telling you and go from there.

Journaling + feelings = help

I find that journaling is a powerful tool in handling my emotions. If I’m angry or confused, I can take to the page and write it all down. I guess there’s a scientific explanation for what happens psychologically and physically when you do this. But don’t ask me what it is. All I know is that somehow, I feel lighter and have greater clarity when I’m finished.

So in this crazy, scary time when the world is turned upside down and none of us knows when we’ll feel safe again, don’t forget to journal about your feelings. Your feelings are okay, no matter what they are. Accept them, write them down, even love them because they are telling you something you need to know.

 

Writing spark

So let’s get right down to it with a very simple sentence stem:

Today, I feel ___________________

[You may want to use this basic journaling prompt often. I find that my mood bounces around from day to day and maybe yours does, too.]

Until next week, stay  well, be good to yourself and those around you, and journal.

On the laugh track

“Sometimes crying or laughing are the only options left, and laughing feels better right now.” ― Veronica Roth

Mabel and Olive at the company meeting
Peter Sellers as Inspector Clouseau

 

I’m in the mood to laugh. Life is too serious right now and I need a break. I’ve cut down on my news consumption, and I can prove it. I just failed the New York Times weekly news quiz.

To take the place of reading newspapers and watching hours of depressing news every day, I’ve been looking for humor. Here’s what I’ve found.

By far the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time is a Youtube video of a Zoom meeting involving a man and his two Labrador retrievers, Mabel and Olive. According to the man, it’s annual report time at their house and the two pooches aren’t doing too great – ruining couches and chasing too many squirrels, etc.

When it comes to comic movies, I can always count on the Marx Brothers to get me laughing. We watched “Room Service” the other day and Groucho, Harpo and Zeppo performed their customary slapstick nonsense. As usual, Harpo stole the show with his rib-busting antics.

To me, some people are just born funny. You look at them and you know they’re thinking of something silly to say or do. Peter Sellers has that gift.

His portrayal of Inspector Clouseau in the Pink Panther movies is guaranteed to make me laugh to the point of tears.

Here’s another born funny person – humor writer Dave Barry. He’s written a slew of books, each of them good for dozens of laughs. The last one I read is called “Lessons from Lucy” about what he’s learned from his rescue dog. It’s a scream.

Right now, I need to laugh uproariously – until tears roll down my face. Most of us do. It helps us forget all the grim news we hear every day. It helps us cope and keep our balance in a world that seems to have turned upside down. 

Writing spark

Who or what makes you laugh? What is guaranteed to bring a smile to your face? Write down some names, movies, books, comic routines you’ve heard. Revisit these funny places and people.

And what about playing a game? Trivial Pursuit, Pictionary, charades and many others are good for lots of laughs. If you’re solo, consider using Face Time or Zoom to play games with someone.

Have fun, stay well and keep writing.

The day I met Superman

Over the years, I’ve had lots of crushes on movie stars. I like to think I was the first to discover Bert Reynolds when he played the blacksmith on Gunsmoke a few eons ago.

I also lost my heart to Clark Gable, Cary Grant and Gregory Peck. But they were passing fancies compared to Christopher Reeve, the hunk who played Superman in the 1980s.

I’ll never forget going to see him in Superman III in 1983. I was single at the time and I told my girlfriend Kathy, who went with me to the movie, that I was smitten with him. I loved his square jaw, powerful build and gentle voice.

Well, just forget about him, she said. You’ll never meet him. And, of course, I did forget. After all, I had a demanding job as a journalist.

But one day not long after that, I walked into the newsroom and the first thing my boss said to me was, “You want to meet Superman?”

“Sure,” I said sarcastically and wondered why he was joking with me. I sat down at my desk and went to work on some story. A few minutes later, he repeated the question. “You want to meet Superman?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?” I responded.

“Because he’s here in town. He’s having a news conference. I want you to go cover it.”

As it turned out, in those days Reeve was a champion of several causes, including environmental protection. He was making a special appearance at our local public television station and agreed to talk to the press.

I was much less impressed with him in person than I was on the screen. I guessed that he really didn’t want to meet the news media but felt obligated. As a consequence, he seemed remote and gave short, terse answers to questions.

I remember asking him one question (and it wasn’t “Will you marry me?”) but I don’t recall what it was. And I don’t remember what he said. But I afterward, I took great delight in telling my friend Kathy that I had, indeed, met Superman.  

In praise of skylarking

“Do not take the entire world on your shoulders.. Do a certain amount of skylarking, as befits people of your age.” — Kurt Vonnegut

It’s graduation season again, but without the usual pomp and circumstance, caps and gowns, parties and festivities. Instead, we’re all cloistered because of a pandemic.

Still, I can’t help but remember that 50 years ago this month, I graduated from high school. (Egads, where did the time go?) And like almost everyone who ever got a diploma from any institution, I don’t remember any of the speeches from that ceremony.

I have no memory of the wisdom that was imparted from the valedictorian of our class or what our principal told us as we launched our futures.

Kurt Vonnegut

I know one thing, though, I’m glad our commencement speaker was not the author Kurt Vonnegut (not that he would have ever come to Odessa, Texas, for a high school commencement.)

I recently ran across a graduation address he gave at Bennington College in 1970, the same year I graduated high school.

His remarks, while sometimes funny, were laced with heavy doses of pessimism. But he did say a couple of things worth remembering.

Don’t forget to play

He told the graduates that despite their lofty dreams and the advice others had given them, they didn’t have to save the world. They were too young and inexperienced.

“Do not take the entire world on your shoulders,” he advised. “Do a certain amount of skylarking, as befits people of your age.” Skylarking, as he defined it, is a lack of seriousness. Goof off, horse around, play while you can.

When you have some life experience under your belt, Vonnegut said, do something for the common good.

I’m greatly simplifying his remarks, but these are the nuggets that I find the most useful, the most inspirational. Play and do good in the world – pretty sound advice for all of us.

 

Writing spark

The best commencement speech I ever heard was given by Steve Jobs to the 2005 Stanford graduating class. In the world of speeches, it’s considered a classic.

In it, he tells the young audience to listen to their inner voice, to live their own lives. Don’t let the opinions of others dictate your choices, Jobs said. His closing words were “Stay hungry. Stay foolish.”

If you were giving a commencement speech right now, what advice would you give to young people starting their lives? Write down a few bits of wisdom you’ve gleaned through your years. Then ponder on paper whether you’re following your own advice. If not, what can you do about it?

It is written in my members

[Note: This is a poem I wrote for my online writing group. The writing prompt was “Jobs.”]

It came quietly, a nudge, a whisper, a knowing.
It came early and never left
this love affair with words,
this awe at their power
to paint a picture,
to move a crowd,
to harness a reader.

Mine were words of knowing,
of knowledge, words of healing
and understanding.
They told stories that must not be forgotten.
But they will be.
And they will be written again and again
long after I leave my words behind
and go to the place of my beginnings
where I heard the whisper and felt the nudge.
Where I knew.