Digging In (February 8, 2011)

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After the blizzard of '11 (or snowmageddon, as some called it), it took about 3 days to truly dig out of the drifts. My own “digging out” may well take weeks.

I'm not buried in snow. I'm buried in an office filled with unfinished business. Five months ago, my steady contract work ended with a great company. I had been consulting with members of the ever-growing jobless population, helping them recharge their resumes and spirits. It was a great steady stream of interesting people who were more or less in the same boat of “what next?”

That was 5 months ago. Just today I recycled a whole stack of useless paperwork from that endeavor. It was as if a spring breeze swept through my office when I let the chunk of paper plunk to the bottom of the bin.

After basking in the freshness, I sifted through folders of obsolete information about groups to which I once belonged. Newsletters from my eldest daughter’s pre-school teacher (my daughter’s nearly 9), out-of-date directories from church, old school newsletters and obsolete sales catalogs - dumped. Ahhh.

I now have a stack of things to be filed, but am pleased to report that the recycling bin received far more paper than what remains in that stack. I'm still reeling from the tornado aftermath, where I often ask myself, “would it truly matter if this had been sucked up and blown away in that cyclone?”

I consolidated various lists of unfinished business, dividing out separate lists for business, home, kids, health and now school. (I’m finishing up there, too!)

Great ideas are everywhere, it’s often hard to choose what to give up and what to begin. There are only so many hours…

I’ve been observing that the act of finishing is a huge value of mine. It’s much stronger than I’d given credit. Satisfaction lives within it, win or lose. I’m also noticing to be cautious about the guilt that ensues when I’m faced with ongoing unfinished business.

Can laundry every truly be finished? Or recording children’s growth in words and photos or letter writing or giving gratitude or learning new things? Heavens, I’d hope not. It's not possible unless we wear the same thing daily or never take notes or correspond or give thanks, or heaven forbid… we think we know all there is to know!

So today, I dig in after digging out. I savor this moment and vow to finish what’s important and be more loving and gentle about that which will hopefully remain unfinished for years to come.

Where will you start finishing?

Learning Journey (from January 31, 2011)

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Seventeen years ago, I began a master’s in English Education. Fifteen years ago, after a change of heart, I stopped pursuing my degree to join the corporate world. Nine years ago, I started my family.

This past December, I started studying to “recertify” the hours I’d taken so many years ago. I’m amazed at just how differently I learn after been immersed in reality. Although I’m admittedly still distracted by household things, much like I was in my earlier college years, I’m so much more focused than I was at age 25.

It was also striking to see how deeply committed I’ve become to seeking out more information about the authors so I might suppose what formed their styles. I longed to climb into their minds. With a raging fire in the woodstove and a laptop propped in front of my book, I devoured poet after poet, joyfully this time, rather than painstakingly as I did when I was an undergrad. It was made so much simpler by not having to brave a colossal library to answer the million questions.

During a recertification exam, one of the professors and I remarked about how different grad school would look if every student was required to take 10 years off to first “be” in the world. (She suggested more like 30!)

Some students experience incredible learning the first time around. I wasn’t one of those. I’m sure I had some wonderful instructors, but for me learning required either a connection of some kind or an evident application. Not many struck that chord.

I wasn’t ripe, fertile soil ready to take in their knowledge and grow with what they were planting at the time.

As the snow melts from the fields and my brain, I’m excited to see what happens next.

Weather Proofing (from December 27, 2010)

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I’ve been working hard not to let things, people and situations squish my spirit. It’s so easy to fall prey to the negativity that lurks both outside and in during Christmas.

I find joy in this season. The preparation. The good secrets. The giggly anticipation. The confirmation of grateful faces and wishes fulfilled. The hope.

I steel myself with traditions we’ll continue and new ones we’ll begin. I simplify and create to avoid feelings of lack and temper the yearning for commercial crap. I light the room with hundreds of tiny twinkling lights, to gently usher in the cold nights. I wrap myself in an armor of cozy blankets by the warm fire, silently singing (loudly in my mind) to tune out the passive aggressive sounds that threaten my calm.

Yet often, the armor isn’t thick enough for the prickly conversation that judges with “kind curiosity.” The cold night slams into my world with minus 20 degree winds and wakes the calm night with the power of 500 watts of overhead lighting in my sleepy eyes.

The oneness I feel with my season disappears like the rings of smoke from the chimney.

Next season, I’ll need a heavier blanket and a louder silent song, apparently.

Perfectionism Can Be Contagious

I’m the proud mom of two really talented and bright girls. Earlier this year, I sought a bit of assistance from a great advocate of the gifted at their school. She lent me a few books on the subject of perfectionism. As secretly suspected, I have a knack for perfectionism myself. Apparently, it's contagious, so I'm working on it in service of my self and my observers.

I’ve been sitting on some posts I’ve written because they weren’t “just right” or didn’t seem to fit or weren't "appropriate" for the world. I’ve been encouraged by several readers to knock it off and just post.

So, in you’re honor (you know who you are) the following posts are a mish-mash of my imperfect brain. The are dated mostly for my convenience and to give some context. I hope you enjoy.