August 30, 2011
Impromptu, ME Newsletter, Vol. 4, Issue 35
I planned on getting the henna, but I hadn’t chosen where I would carry my transient art or even what it might be. That took a few page flips and about three minutes of decision making. As opposed to long term decisions, something in the short-term, non-permanence category affords me brief, joyful, self-permission for impromptu.
Unless of course, I have something else in mind: then I need to consider schedule implications. For me, creating reasonable schedules in advance lessens the stress of wondering when I will or can get things done. I had planned fun for Sunday, so all those normal Sunday assignments needed to be moved to other days. Half went to Saturday, some went to Monday and Tuesday.
Alas, another week’s list of tasks derailed Saturday afternoon and hasn’t gotten back on track, yet. To my immediate delight, Saturday must-do’s were delayed by a sudden kitten, and a case of long standing duo of puppies-love. Sunday was reworked because I had too much fun. Walking around the Renaissance Fair for seven hours negated the desire (and somewhat the ability) to proceed on schedule. Monday’s last minute call from a friend gladly piled everything forward into Tuesday and Wednesday. Until I realized that a well-loved writing group was being meeting on Tuesday.
Tomorrow is Wednesday. I’m already stacked and stretched with a fair amount of stress, feeling close to fracture. I can still accomplish the needs and goals I’m reaching for if I buckle down and get serious. I will attack four days worth of previously properly spaced achievables in preparation for my Thursday plan.
Even through all the self-torturous, guilt-ridden reworking, there is this most important revelation: I may not have conquered a list, but that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed impromptu. A beautiful unusual autumn-hued reminder catches my eye mid-task, reminding me of how I came about it. For a moment I indulged; for a short while I’ve colored my world and my hand. I appreciate and celebrate moments and memories spent and saved with friends and family, and how gloriously off-track I am!
August 24, 2011
I hadn’t quite
Made the decision;
Offered no breeze
But let me hear
Of rolling thunder
Still safe and
Far enough away
To be hopeful
Stirring trees and
I didn’t realize
I was waiting
Then the humidity
And so did I.
August 23, 2011
Short, ME Newsletter, Vol. 4, Issue 34
I've just finished reading my first James Patterson book. Beach Road.
A short book, I’m not entirely sure it represents him or counts fully as a Patterson book since it’s a co-write. In any case, I loved it the style and the sheer complexity of writing the same story from different viewpoints. My original idea for the one self-horrifying horror story I wrote as a class project centered about a center-room fire place and four points of view. The characters would all be the same person in the end, but it was too complex for the short-term story assignment I was working on, and I couldn’t quite imagine how I could make that work in any short-story way that would make sense. I appreciate Patterson’s novel demonstration that it could work. I’d still like to try that someday.
The other thing I absolutely loved about Beach Road was that it did not have a happy ending. At first I wasn’t sure why I was so excited about that, then it occurred to me I’ve only been reading books with happy endings. Sure these softly written, un-intellectual books have fair amounts of self-identifying angst, unsureity, and betrayal, but in the end, the stories all wrap up nicely and happily ever after for the usually unlikely heroine and her somewhat of a price uncharming. Ridiculous, yet addicting in short order. Drivel, really... still an ok occasional route for escapism, because happy endings are the exception rather than the norm. I can’t really accept the fact that my opportunity for that type of happy ending is past. Of course, life isn’t really about those types of happy endings, anyway. It’s more about the promise of heaven. Yet, in this suddenly capsized moment, that usual comfort seems to fall a little short; and does absolutely nothing to dissuade an irascible, inevitable, and entirely disappointing, rain of tears. Which, of course, I plan on shorting, shortly...
Dear friend, I am praying that all is well with you... 3 John 1:2
August 19, 2011
Each recovery isn’t quite as good
As the last, the crying time grows
Shorter, the depression
Seems to pass to flat
Levelheaded calmness is a
Signature badge that really
Only counts as comatose, devoid,
In a one dimensional life, routine
Is all that’s left to grasp,
When disappointment comes
August 15, 2011
Hollow, Echoing, ME Newsletter, Vol. 4, Issue 33
Far apart and scattered or close enough to hug, we need to remember to use our common ground as a supportive shield.
When in doubt, when depressed, it is up to us to rally our friends to lend us their armor.
It’s up to us to ask for help protecting us from ourselves.
We need to pull out sticky-note memories of warm words and meaningful hugs, post them on our bathroom mirror and arm ourselves everyday with the knowledge that we have been given the gift of a very real fellowship.
We can’t expect any one of us to be the anchor all the time.
We must remember to look outside ourselves frequently and consistently and give of our hearts for random, non-urgent reasons as well as in times of crises.
When we feel alone and checked out, we must take responsibility for checking ourselves back in; we must take responsibility for checking on our sisters and our brothers as we live in this life.
Unless we ask for help, being alone will always be the hollow, echoing answer.
Unless we offer help, being alone will always be the hollow, echoing answer.
August 10, 2011
Reunion Conclusion, ME Newsletter, Vol. 4, Issue 32
It’s been a week since I’ve been in the awesome presence of long-ago, well-chosen, keepers of an inner circle whom I love. I’ve been silently going over the moments, reliving our stories sprouted from common roots: where we began, where we went to, where we worked. Some of our paths are similar, some are not, but our common strength is astounding. No matter what challenges we have faced, we are still standing. We continue on, we question, we seek, we rework. We all serve our LORD in our own way, and support each other in our service. We’ve all been through at least one significant something, some are still in the going-through process. We all see clearly that the good things in our lives would not be if it weren’t for the bad things, as well. When we analyze what we have, compared to what we lost or what we wanted that we never got, we smile because we know we’ve come out on the good side of things.
When I think of each of you, one thing keeps swelling to the surface: admiration.
Admiration for the one who was inspired by another to civic duty, the one who refused to compromise for another moment, the single mothers who work hard to make their children’s lives better, the ones who demand their integrity remain intact no matter what, the ones facing joblessness who still find time and resources to organize benefits and volunteer, the ones whose roads took a path they never would have imagined yet stand smiling where they are, the ones who’ve had to adapt, the ones who’ve had to outright change, the ones who have taken on challenges out of love and willingly had our hearts broken for it, the ones who found happiness the second time through, for all of us who are comfortable in our skins, pleased that we’ve made it this far. With sincere approbation I offer thanks to and for the ones who orchestrated our divergent paths into comfortable convergence for a short weekend that, should we never meet again, will last for the rest of our lifetime.