Life Changes

Meeting the Shadow

November 20, 2013 by admin

Normally I wouldn’t discuss a writing class in this blog, but the one I’m taking is more about inner growth work than writing, so I thought I would share! This class, Shadow Writing, is taught by Gloria Kempton, whom I met at a recent writers’ conference. I loved Gloria’s warmth and honesty, and something inside me whispered, “You can trust this teacher.”

For those not familiar with the concept of the “shadow,” it’s the part of ourselves that we keep hidden. We bury it under social masks, and the more we deny that part of ourselves, the more it wreaks havoc with our lives. For writers, denying the shadow self makes for weak and uninspired characters, because as writing brings us closer to our shadow, often we start making excuses for not finishing our work.

I signed up for the course because I have a villain in one of my novels whose head I’ve never quite been able to get into. I’ve also felt that my writing of late has been bland and boring, and I’ve lost some motivation to write — and yet, I know that when I am writing, I am a happier person.

In the past few weeks, I’ve gotten better acquainted with this character. I’ve poked into his childhood to try to understand why he is so cruel and sadistic. I’ve poked into my brain to uncover why I’m so unwilling to let him express himself fully. As a result, I’ve bumped into my shadow on several occasions already. Good thing my teacher feels so safe to me, because I’ve shed many tears in the past few weeks as I get to know this side of myself.

Through my studies, I am encountering the way I envy others who have been more successful at writing. I’ve also uncovered a great deal of ambition that I had pushed aside. No wonder I’m so darn tired all the time! So yes, I am admitting that I would like to sell some books…maybe even a lot of them. No more apologizing for wanting that!

Already I’m spending more consistent and focused time on the novel I’ve been working on, and in December I should be able to dust off the old novel with my problematic villain to try, yet again. The more I embrace my shadow, the more I am at peace.

Do you have any buried longings or dreams?

Book Review Tuesday: Knitting Yarns: Writers on Knitting by Ann Hood

November 12, 2013 by admin

Don’t knit? Don’t write? It doesn’t matter. Knitting Yarns: Writers on Knitting is really a book about life. Yes, there are a few patterns in the book for anyone who wants them, but with passion and humor, a variety of writers share their stories of what knitting means to them.

What I love about this book is that these writers are, for the most part, not great knitters. Some have given up on the craft altogether. Others work hard to get to the “good beginner” level. Rather than conjuring images of contented grandmothers creating magic with some yarn and needles, these writer/knitters are often clumsy with a needle, reporting plenty of tears and dropped stitches. A rare exception is the writer who is a skilled knitter, but who discovers her perfectionism when teaching others, seeing how that perfectionism stifles joy.

Parents and grandparents, now gone, are remembered lovingly, along with tinges of regret for words left unsaid, thanks withheld. One writer/knitter makes endless sweaters for his dog, who is quite the fashionista. Another writer/knitter, a longtime lesbian, is surprised to fall in love with a man who knits. Each essay brings its own unique surprise.

My favorite essay is To Knit a Knot, or Not: A Beginner’s Yarn by John Dufresne. I love the way he knitted memories into the now, easing back and forth with the confidence of an experienced writer, much as an experienced knitter eases through a difficult project. Plus, he’s pretty darn funny.

Ann Hood came to knitting through grief when her young daughter died, and it’s no surprise that she would provide such a book, filled with everything from turbulence to joy. That’s been my experience with knitting; it has the power to show our lives to us, and to smooth the rough edges if we let it.

Sitting…Listening

September 12, 2013 by admin

I took my knitting and went outside, where I found a shady spot on the wall at the bottom of a slope. My purpose? To sit and observe. I would knit a row, then look around, watching the patterns of the sun. I studied where rain water drains into an easement. I enjoyed the view of the tree, where deer often rest when they need relief from the heat.

I am starting to learn about permaculture. At its micro level, permaculture is a design method that utilizes strategies to get Nature to do much of the gardening work. By enriching soil, guiding water, and combining a variety of plants, garden yields can increase while workload decreases.

One of the first principles of permaculture is to observe. As we spend time in our yards, we learn little details about them that will help us later. No planning, no judging, no ideas, just listening. There will be time for action and planning later in the process.

At the same time, I am entering into the deep woods of menopause, waking more at night with hot flashes and night sweats. While I take herbs to help provide relief, this is a time of withdrawing and observing. I am told that when I get to the other side of the turmoil, I can then figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. For now, though, I need stillness and solitude and rest. It’s been one reason that my blog has been so hit and miss. While I like engaging with my readers, I am going through a powerful transformation and have to let go of what I think I “should” be doing.

Yesterday, after a relaxed morning, a loved one needed my emotional support. Because I wasn’t exhausted, I could be fully present and helpful. Last night, before bed, hubby and I lay a blanket out on the deck so we could watch the stars. It was a perfect night, with the Milky Way revealing itself more and more with each minute we were away from the artificial light. In the Not Doing, we could marvel at the miracles of the universe that are everywhere…something we need to do more and more in these troubled times.

I know that as one delves into permaculture more deeply, there are larger implications for our communities and our world. Already, I have learned enough to blow my mind about the solutions to food and climate issues that already exist. For right now, though, as I say goodbye to the young woman I was and embrace the beginning of my crone-ness, I am content to observe my own land and let it speak to me. My garden and I will grow in our own time and in our own way.

Who Knew? The Joys of Post-50 Life

August 14, 2013 by admin

When I was a kid, many of the adults told me that I was living the best years of my life. My response was, “I sincerely hope not.” Fortunately, I was right. In my experience, my teens and twenties were the low spot, with each subsequent decade more interesting and enjoyable than the last. The 50s, so far, are the best. I say that in spite of hot flashes and the Second Coming of Zits. Yes, every now and then I feel a little creaky, and some nights I don’t sleep so well. Still, here are some of the ways life has changed in the past four or so years:

Surprise, Surprise! Those of you who read my blog and my endless blathering about my garden may not realize that I never got my hands in the dirt until I was 51. I had no idea how much I would fall in love with my garden. Knowing that new passions are always available, no matter what the age, is priceless.
Self-Acceptance Trumps Self-Improvement. The funny thing is, when I stopped pressuring myself to do and be more, it just started to happen. Improvement is fine, but it’s not the goal. I wish I had learned this lesson when I was younger. I would have saved a lot of money on personal growth workshops. Of course, sometimes I still lapse into old habits! I am learning to accept that, too.
Better Yin and Yang Balance. We live in a great little town with lots of nice people that I’m enjoying getting to know better. Friendships are developing, and I’m feeling less “rusty” with my social skills. I’m even starting to give parties, something I never thought I would do. Still, I keep an eye on my schedule to make sure I have enough alone time. August has been a people-filled month, so we’ve scheduled some time away in a few weeks. I’m going to the spa!
Giving Back is Fun. In my younger years, financial problems made it difficult for me to make ends meet, let alone share with others. Without that burden, I am more involved in the community, sharing both funds and time. I’ve learned skills over the years that are needed and appreciated, and it’s a joy to have the freedom to share them.
Process, Not Product. While I’m still a Type A personality, my edges are softening. While I still would like to earn at least a modest living as a writer, I’m content to enjoy the process of writing and honing my skills. I’m not pushing myself to finish books quickly anymore…I go at my own pace, and I’m just happy when I solve a plot problem or come up with a better way to bring what’s in my head to the page.

What’s your favorite decade so far?

The Seasonal Life

July 24, 2013 by admin

First plum, freshly washed and ready to eat! Several more will be ready in the next few days.

We are in the abundance of summer. Festivals bring tourists to town every week: jazz, blues, a writing conference, and more. The air crackles with energy. This is a town that loves to play, and there are more sandboxes to play in than there is time to do so. This year we tried out The American Fiddle Tunes Festival, which we missed last year, and had a grand time.

Hubby is in rehearsals for Much Ado About Nothing, where he has his first-ever named part. The town will continue to operate at this frenetic pace until fall and the Film Festival…then will start to wind down (although Hallowe’en seems to jazz people up around here).

Meanwhile, our next-door neighbor’s three cherry trees, which seem to yield enough to feed an army, plus birds and deer, are at the end of their time. We picked what we could, gorging ourselves and freezing the rest. My new blueberry plants have provided a handful or so of fresh berries each day and should do much more as the plants grow and mature. In the vegetable garden, I’m seeing the last of the sweet peas, while zucchini and corn are on their way.

Living in season, we embrace ebbs and flows. In the spring, we rejoice as the cherry blossoms bloom, and each week we walk by the trees, we see the cherries develop, first green, then slowly changing color. Our mouths water with anticipation. Now, with the cherries over and done for another year, the plums are next. I’ve eaten the first one, ripe, sweet, and with juices that ran down my hand. Figs, apples, and pears are on their way. We say hello, we say goodbye. There is delight in the former, and sadness tinged with sweet memory in the latter. We let go of the convenience of year-round (but tasteless) produce in favor of the longing, the waiting as though for a lover who has been away.

Spiders are in season, too, protecting plants from pests. I love to see their webs on a dewy morning.

As I become more tuned to nature, I feel her cycles within me, too. I start to understand my ebbs and flows. Some days I have more energy than others. Sometimes I am productive, sometimes not. I am happy, I am not. I sleep, or I don’t. Instead of seeing these as good or bad, they are just interesting. I am like a tree that blooms, bears fruit, then rests.

Paradise Run Amok – Crazy From the Sun?

July 3, 2013 by admin

Passions are running high in my little town. Dogs were recently banned from the Saturday farmers’ market, bringing some customers back but alienating others. A proposed library bond issue has brought additional heated debate, complicated by the mysterious decision to furlough the library director — no reason given. The school board just voted to eliminate the “Redskins” name, causing some to invoke 1930s Nazi Germany (I’m not kidding).

Even my volunteer day at the public theatre office seemed more manic and chaotic than usual…and given that we’re talking “theatre,” that’s saying something. I’m used to a level of drama in the office, and most of the time I’m amused by it. Yesterday was not one of those days. I don’t blame my co-workers, I’m just saying that I felt bombarded and exhausted by the crackling ADD energy in the building.

I blame it on the sunlight.

At the height of the solstice here on the Olympic Peninsula, we have more than sixteen hours of official sunlight. Our current sunrise is at 5:11 a.m., but stumble out at 4:30, and it’s plenty light already. I have blackout curtains in the bedroom and have added a sleep mask, but I still can’t seem to get enough sleep. Somewhere in the night my eye mask slipped off, so my eyes popped open at 5:00 a.m. to a bright, cheerful room. There’s.no.escape.from.the.cheerfulness.

Last year, when I complained to someone, he said, “It’s okay. You’ll sleep in the winter.” He’s right. I did. But winter is a while away, and I don’t want to wish away a glorious summer. Each day, I’m picking handfuls and sometimes bowlfuls of fresh strawberries. The cherries are ripe, and the blueberries and tomatoes are starting to turn. I love walking around without a jacket, and flinging open doors and windows to let in fresh air is a slice of heaven.

I just want to feel rested.

It’s possible that I will get more accustomed to the extreme swings of light as I live here longer. I also know that in January, when the darkness never seems to end, I will dream of idyllic summer days. I’m just wondering, though…we know about SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), which can cause depression in winter. Is there an equivalent for summer, when we have so much light that we get beyond energized and move into frenzy? How about GLAD (Good Lord Another *long* Day) or HAPPY (Heaps and Plenty *of* Peel-Me-Off-The-Ceiling Yes) or BLISS (Big Longing In Search of Sleep)?

Well, maybe not.

I doubt anyone would take this disorder seriously. Certainly, one can look around at the nation, regardless of season, and know that passions are inflamed on a daily basis. Still, it seems as good an explanation as any. We’ll see what happens in a month or two, as the days get noticeably shorter.