Pathways to Deeper Work

It's an interesting irony that I'm writing the final post of the Summer of Self-Love on my tiny Raydem keyboard.

I'm on the road again.

And I'm feeling oddly blocked as I write this evening.

Natalie Goldberg would tell me to write about just that until something else opened up. Lynda Barry would tell me to write tic tic tic until something else opened up. Teachers I highly respect have developed ways to write through the blocks. They both understand that blocks are temporary and that they are pathways to deeper work.

Blocks are pathways to deeper work.

Blocks are pathways to deeper work.

It's the difficult and the dangerous places of the soul that open us to deeper expressions of our own depths. The harder roads lead to the most wondrous finds. The conflicts we meet, rather than avoid, open the way to treasure.

We have to keep with it, stay engaged, be willing to meet ourselves there.

The greatest battles are within the self. Being willing to show up and choosing to be present for ourselves are the most courageous acts we undertake. They are key to self-mastery, to personal sovereignty.

And being soverign in the self is everything.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

WILD THING copyright 2018 Katherine Cartwright

Taking a Bite from the Apple

I had my first honeycrisp apple today.

I found it at the farmers' market, just down the table from the peaches and nectarines. I don't know what possessed me to buy it, with the profusion of summer fruits that are still around. And my passion for peaches.  

It was a little sign that the seasons are changing.

One thing is passing away and another is on the horizon. And I've given you two cliches for the price of one. But there is wisdom in those cliches. Hard won from generations of people watching the seasons come and go.

 

I'm feeling reflective this evening. Tomorrow is the last day of this writing project and there are so many thoughts going through my mind, so many threads I'd like to explore. 

But they all return to the apple I picked up at the farmers' market today. 

One apple. 

And I've eaten already it. 

It was good. Not as good as a ripe peach, of course, or a handful of Rainier cherries. There's something amazing about what we can eat fresh and local in the summer here. It's like a burst of wonder. 

For me, fall feels cozy and comfortable. Winter? Well, if I'm talking about what I like about winter it has to be the freshness of the air. And spring for me is the feeling of sheer renewal. 

Summer is my burst of wonder. The flowers, the blue skies, puffy white clouds, soft breezes, and the deep greens of a fertile, producing, abundant Earth. Long days that stretch into cool evenings. A season that feels endless. Deep restoration.

This time of daily writing has been deeply restorative and I am grateful for it. As I think about what's next, I understand that writing will continue to be primary. There is much to think about after spending three months doing something regularly and with intention, and I imagine I'll be reflecting on this experience to unearth my discoveries. 

For now, I smile as I think about taking a bite out of the apple and understanding that I know something now that I didn't know before.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it. Most of them usually are.

 

Tracking the Wild Geese

It's 7:18 in the morning and there's not a sound on the street.

I've been up for a few hours, writing, having tea and some broth. I wrote in two journals and drew a comic. I try to draw a comic every day. I wrote a letter to my daughter and pondered writing one to my mother. But I'll see her on Friday so I decided to be the letter instead of writing one.

Off in the distance, between two tall trees in the foreground, a small flock of geese flies by and I find myself wondering where they are going. At the end of August, the geese begin to be on the move. I have to take my car in for an oil change in about an hour and a half. 

I appreciate these quiet early mornings when I slip into them.

The peace is so palpable, I sometimes want to go back to bed and sleep in that peace. 

I picked up a journal yesterday and it happened to fall open to a page from a few weeks ago, a day that I had been noticing that I hadn't really been paying attention to the goals I created at the beginning of the summer, and I have to admit there was a little harshness from my inner critic going on in my thoughts. 

I talked to a good friend last night and happened to mention it to her. It had been on my mind all day and I was doing some bargaining with myself to see if I could pull out a Hail Mary pass around all this. I also mentioned to her that I had kept my word to myself around this daily writing practice. And that today would be my 90th day of consecutive writing and putting that writing out into the world. 



Ninety days. 

I had to stop and ponder that one a bit.

It feels like a huge accomplishment. To show up for writing every day for 90 days. There were days I did not know how I would do it and learned that I could, even if I could not see in the moment how it would be possible. Some days I simply put myself in front of the computer and opened a new post screen. On some of those days I brought the challenge or the conflict to the writing. Other days I simply surrendered to what wanted to emerge even if I thought that I did not want to write about it. I learned I did not have to write a long essay each time. Sometimes there was simply a clear, short, powerful thought. And that was enough. Sometimes I was not thrilled with what I wrote. But I put it out there anyway. And grew to love even that imperfection. The next time it happened I was able to marshall myself better because I knew I could do it. Some days I realized I would not have a computer with me and I was gifted the tool that could bridge that gap, my tiny Raydem keyboard that works with my iPhone.

The common denominator in all of this is that I showed up for what was most important to me. And it was the consistent showing up that helped me to learn just how important the writing is to me. I think when we make a point to show up, what is not important falls away. And it is not that what falls away is not ever going to be important, although we might find that to be true. The core teaching here is also about timing. 

What might be important now?

Now.

All those other things are still on my list. I've put them onto a more recent page in a notebook I look at every day where I go to organize around what is alive for me. 

I won't make any declarations about all that here and now, because now what it important is this writing. 






The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.





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The Wake-Up Call in the Noisy Trucks

The sound of jackhammers has been replaced with the sounds of loud, noisy big trucks.

They rolled down my quiet street at 6:30 this morning, heralding another phase in the public works project in my neighborhood. The water pipes in the municipal system were replaced in the spring and they have been working on repairing the streets, sidewalks, and curbs throughout the summer.

It's been a mysterious and unpredictable process.

It was clear what the jackhammers were doing, what the noise and the disturbance were all about. Tearing up concrete. Preparing the ground for the coming work. 

But these trucks outside? What are they doing? I really don't know. It's a bit of a mystery to me and I trust that someone knows. At some point, the project will be over and the street will be back to normal - a transformation completed and a return to calm. 

There has been chaos for months. But the water beneath the street has been flowing smoothly through the new pipes all this time. It's the outer parts of things that are disturbed and seem off. 

It was interesting how the project went - a rush and fury to replace the pipes. I think the work was completed on our block in a day or two. They went block by block and had a way to bypass the system and keep the water working, for the most part, turning it off for hours at a time, and then on again, before the new pipes were in place and the water could be permanently rerouted. 

And then, nothing.

Nothing went on for a long time.

And then, jackhammers. 

I noticed them because I was writing. I was in a place of vivid noticing. I am sure there were jackhammers before also, when they replaced the pipes. But I was away when they were working on my block and the blocks around mine, a pleasant coincidence. 

Still, I notice that with transformation, there can be a seemingly invisible inner process that sparks a more noticable outer expression. 

It takes time and can be stop-and-start as it continues. We think it's done and a few weeks or months later it's back again, having replaced jackhammers with big trucks that rumble loudly, beep incessantly, and produce dust and a disturbing host of sounds as they complete their work and fix what had been disturbed and unearthed by the jackhammers. 

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

A Pisces Moon is for Dreaming

Four people I know passed sleepless nights last night.

And I make five.

Was it the moon, shining big and bright in my window?

Or was it specific and non-specific worry that roused me at 3:30 am and kept me awake for the next two hours, tossing and turning before dozing fitfully and coming in and out of wild dreams for the next two?

Tonight I'm asking for nice dreams. And maybe some poetry.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

Light On the Water

I didn't even need my alarm. 

I woke naturally a little after 4 am. I thought to myself that it had been a crazy idea to get up so early to drive to the shore to watch the sun rise. I tried to go back to sleep. 

But something was nudging me to awaken.

So, moving slowly in the darkness, I got ready. It didn't take much. Some clothes and a cup of tea to go. My bag. My keys. My phone.

And I was off. 

Initially heading west, the nearly full, glorious moon was sinking in the night sky. The closer she gets to the earth, the larger she appears. Opalescent white against a deep blue-black sky. 

I turned East and went over the river.

As I drove, the sky began to lighten. I found myself wishing I'd gotten myself moving a little more quickly. Colors, and clouds on which to catch them, began to appear. Pinks, apricots, lavenders, and periwinkles. As I walked toward the shoreline, the sounds of surf against sand added its music to the scene.

Everything was coming alive.

And there was the sun, rising over the steely grey shimmering ocean. A deep apricot orb with spears of golden light, slowly revealing. 

This time, I moved toward the sun and brilliant, vibrant, pulsating light. The source of light. So often I move toward the softer, reflected light of the moon. And stillness. Both are beautiful and powerful, of course. 

But today something in me needed to ignite. I felt drawn to beginnings and to what is being birthed. To what is new. A new day. Perhaps a new perspective. 

A quickening energy. 

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.


Photo taken at the Jersey Shore, another day.

Longing for Beautiful Places

A slideshow of amazing natural landscapes moves across my computer screen every time I turn it on. 

And it's got me itching for the real thing.

I'm thinking about getting up at 4:30 tomorrow morning to drive to the beach and watch the sun rise and the moon set. It's full moon tomorrow morning, so the moon should be setting as the sun is rising. It would be a good place to write my morning pages and enjoy the early part of the day.

It would also feel good to sleep in. But considering that I usually wake up between 5 and 6 am, it probably won't feel as satisfying. 

Sleeping in sounds like a good idea. The reality just isn't as good as the fantasy.

There are a lot of things in life like that. Except, of course, amazing natural landscapes. 

They never disappoint.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

Bumping Up Against the Rough Edges

I think we've all had these times. 

When everything feels rough, itchy, or difficult. When nothing seems to move smoothly or to flow easily. There may be a deep sense of dissatisfaction. I'm there right now. And I've not passed into the place of wisdom yet. I'm simply noticing what is happening and allowing myself to be here.

The impulse, of course, is to act. To change things. To figure out how to fix it. Because it's uncomfortable. But I'm wondering if there might be a deeper experience that wants to emerge and if it is trying to get my attention. There may be something I need to see and life knows no other way to help us except to show us.

So I am thinking about my blindspots. I know I have them. We all do. 

They make us vulnerable. 

And vulnerability leaves us open. 

We can be affected by the unexpected and the unanticipated.

There is a lack of control in all this. And it could be that the deepest human fear is not death, or even public speaking, but not being in control. 

 

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

Photo (c) 2015 Katherine Cartwright

The trail through Hellhole Canyon in Anza-Borrgeo Desert Park, California

Reflection of a Late Summer's Day

Thursdays in summer are some of my favorite days.

Whenever I can, I make a date with myself and the Princeton Farmers' Market. Locally-sourced and grown, fresh, often organic produce, meats, and cheeses. Home-prepared artisanal products. The entire square is filled with people selling fresh flowers, honey and other items from a local apiary, locally-bottled extra virgin olive oil from olives grown on a family-owned orchard in Greece. And so much more. There's usually music provided by local artists.

I take an hour or two to move through the market slowly, savoring the experience and choosing. But today I had an early meeting and it was a quick winding through early in the afternoon. I came home with peaches, arugula, grape tomatoes, fresh mint, and a bar of exquisitely-crafted dark chocolate with a touch of lavender petals. 

The kitchen smells like ripe peaches again. A cue for me to be in joy and in gratitude.

I'm noticing the evening sky is darkening an hour earlier these days. I miss that extra hour, but it feels like a real pleasure to have some of the late summer's cooler evenings. 

There's a breeze moving through my kitchen. 

We are fortunate in the mid-Atlantic to enjoy the seasons. Each one has its beauty and wonder. I can see that the trees look like they are ready to release their leaves. They seem to be a little bowed over from the weight of carrying the leaves for so many months. They are heavy with summer's fullness. And some are already beginning to drop their first leaves. I see the tell-tale signs on the streets and sidewalks. 

The cicadas are singing this evening. Their hypnotic songs lull me.

It's been a long day. I feel the same sort of heaviness I see mirrored in the trees outside my kitchen window. It's time to lay down the day's challenges and rest in the lighter energy of the evening and it's cool softness. To listen to nature's songs and to be soothed by the soft energy of the gathering nightfall.

   




The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

Tiny Keyboard Blues

I am back to typing on my tiny Raydem keyboard.

This time at my kitchen table.

The Internet is freezing up on my laptop and Comcast is mystified. My computer shows that I am connected and that everything is fine. Their computers show that I am connected and that everything is fine. Their speed test shows that there are some loading issues. I don't need a test to tell me that. 

So it's back to the iPhone and tiny keyboard. And grateful to have the option.

I think I've forgotten what I'd wanted to write about today.

I spent the morning reading a good book and the afternoon and evening working on some de-cluttering. Here's the thing with de-cluttering. First, it's a lot easier to help someone else to de-clutter their stuff than it is to do your own. Second, when I am de-cluttering I seem to move stuff around more than I actually get rid of things. 

I've got a recycling bag for papers and a large trash bag set up. Right now I'm mainly working through a lot of old paper. Tough for a writer. Lots of old projects and partially completed projects. Drafts of completed projects. Research. Notes. Papers with ideas and brainstorming sessions. Interesting articles I've saved. Pieces of paper filed with things that are interesting to me.

So there's always the question about whether I want the chaos of too much paper or a more streamlined existence. 

I'm being very selective these days.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are. 

Home Is Where the Heart Is

I sat in the Trader Joe's parking lot in Princeton at six o'clock this evening, thinking about how surreal my life feels.

I woke up this morning in Chicago. 

I spent the last three nights in a hotel where, when I looked out the windows, all I could see were the grids of high-rise buildings. I had to look up high-rise to make sure I wrote it correctly. I happened to notice the definition and its sent me down the rabbit hole, as words often do.

A building with many stories.

That just about sums it up for me. The trip to visit my daughter was phenomenal. And it feels strange to be here again. Home. I opened something up around that while writing yesterday morning. Its explorations will wind through my journal over time, not in a blog post in an hour.

But I will share now that it reminds me of a poem I wrote, Juicy Bing Cherry Moment. It's in the collection that is laboring now to be released with the publishing company in the throes of a merger. 

Here's part of it -

Pointing to something'

About me

It wants 

To be brought out

And begins to tell a story

Comes to a moment

And holds it up

You look at it

And it leaves you

To find your way

Out

Or not

And you can end up 

Holding that moment forever

Somewhere deep inside 

I wrote this while I was in the middle of a divorce, understanding that the decision meant the break up not just of a marriage, but also a life, and a home. At the time I did not understand where all of that would take me, the impossible journey I could not avoid. A journey I am still on these many years later, I find. 

My daughter woke up a few minutes later and we had our last, awkward good-byes. Southwest canceled my two o'clock flight and I had to rush to be able to get the re-booked 11:35 am flight. That was not how I wanted our leave-taking to be. There was more to say. More to tell. More to hear. More to share. The trip was short and each moment was precious. 

Somehow I felt cheated by that flight cancellation. 

I probably did not need to say that. For you to understand it. And, yet, I did have to say it. For me to understand it. There are so many small and large things in life that are beyond our control and take from us what we have planned and hoped for. Sometimes they give to us something we do not expect and that feels like a gift.  

I smell the fragrant fresh tarragon that seasons the chicken and potatoes roasting in the oven. I've pulled it out and squeezed lemon over the top to finish the dish and let it sit while the asparagus cook on top of the stove. I've made chicken in honor of the beautiful and delicious meal my daughter prepared for me last night, when we took the train out to see her apartment and spend the evening with her fiance before traveling back to spend our last night together. 

I probably don't need to journal much to discover that home is where my children are. Trying to figure out what that means in light of their being adults and my not having the home they grew up in any longer will take me longer. 






The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.


excerpt from Juicy Bing Cherry Moment (c) 2012, Katherine Cartwright

Mothers and Daughters

It's Day Two.

The famed trip to Chicago to spend time with my daughter after a long time apart while she pursues a dream.

Am I pursuing mine in the meantime?

Yesterday, on Day One, we spent the day at the Art Institute of Chicago, where she is reading for a masters degree in Critical and Visual Studies. She carries a notebook now when she looks at art in a museum. I stand before it and let it wash over me. I stood before "American Gothic" in awe. The painting is iconic in American culture and the experience was akin to standing before the Mona Lisa in the Louvre for the first time, except it was much more intimate. There were so many such iconic art works that I was able to experience close-up. It's one thing to see these great works in a book or on a post card or as a print reproduction, but there's something different about being in its presence, being able to notice brush stroke detail, the energy of the piece.

It's not unlike the difference between phoning, texting, face-timing, and being together.

We spent some time in her studio. It is a brilliant experience to be in Alyson's studio, where she creates worlds that surround you and draw you in to what they have to show you. I took a few photos I am not able to share here, as much as I'd like to. Her studio is a private world. A birthplace of stars. Where the mystery of becoming is palpable.

An evening outside on the Riverwalk enjoying the outstanding Chicago summer weather. We stop at a small table where a man advertises "Poet for Hire." It's not a gimmick, it's my life, he says. My daughter asks me if I'll buy her a poem. Of course, it is so much more than that. We're creating an experience there by the river, and something more. After several minutes, literally three-five minutes, he pulls the small page from his mid-century typewriter, selects a lavender envelope and hands us a masterpiece.

We stand there, suspended in something timeless, and share this poetry that speaks so much to both our hearts.

She's sleeping in the other room as I write. And I wait for water to boil on the stove for tea. We had a slumber party last night and have another day, evening, and morning together. I don't know how I'll be able to go home tomorrow afternoon. It's not really home, of course. I am not sure what home is these days. It's my existential crisis.

This last day, and the night in a hotel in a strange city, has felt more like home than I've felt in years.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.


I'm writing from the road, using the tiny Raydem keyboard my son gave me for just such occasions. There are some unusual limitations, most of them my own, since I am just learning how to use this and there is no booklet of directions. It is possible that I may go into this post later to make some corrections or updates, or to add art if I'm unable to do it here.

Reunion

It's my first morning in Chicago.

I spent the earliest part of the day at an outdoor cafe, sipping tea and writing.

I arrived yesterday afternoon and spent the evening looking up. Most of the time. I'm not accustomed to so many tall buildings. When I wasn't looking up, I was looking out. I don't remember the Riverwalk. It may not have been here the last time I visited the city. I also don't remember how vast the city is.

The vibe on a Saturday night is electric.

Sunday morning is a bit quieter, but busy. The streets are filled with people wheeling suitcases and scrambling for coffee.

My future son-in-law met me at the airport and spent the rest of the day with me. We had a great dinner at the City Winery on the Riverwalk and he told me about all the things he loves about Chicago.

Some hours later, as we waited for my daughter to arrive from work, I noticed a small figure bouncing down the street on the sidewalk. I'd know that walk anywhere. I saw her smile before I saw much else of her. And she saw mine.

I can't remember the last time she let me hug her so much.

It's been about eight months since we've seen each other, the longest patch of desolate absence we've known. That's not happening again if I can help it.

More adventures await today.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.


I'm writing from the road, using the tiny Raydem keyboard given to me by my son for just such occasions. There are some unusual limitations. It is likely I'll go back later and update this entry and add art if I'm not able to do it now.

Re-Cycling

I hesitate to say that I have a favorite time to write. 

I will say that writing in the morning has its own glorious energy because I'm in the part of the day that is fresh and new. I begin in darkness with rising and moving gently and slowly through the first moments of waking and rising. And as I do, I notice that the earth is doing the same thing. Light and color come slowly at first, gently, and they begin with softness and grace. Today it was subtle color at the edges of the clouds. 

I woke with dreams this morning and forgot to write them down, but they directed me to some of the inner conflicts I've been feeling lately. My morning journal is filled with them, the way the sky is filled with a soft, diffuse light. There is cloud cover in the sky. What had been clouds with defined edges has softened into more of a filter for what could have blinding morning sunlight. I was able to write gently today about these conflicts. The outer world, a teacher for my inner world. The nature outside of me, a teacher for the nature within. 

And here in this writing, I notice I also am going slowly. Stopping and noticing the light. It moves and changes, brightening and softening as if it is alive. Which, of course, it is. I notice what in my world becomes tipped with light as the sun rises higher in the morning sky. My kitchen has three large windows with access to the eastern sky and every day as the sun journeys higher and higher in the early morning, the light journeys through my kitchen. 

I notice my fridge is plastered with too many magnets and papers, almost an impulsive vision board and different facets become highlighted and stand out and catch my attention, like sunlight shining through stained glass. 

I wonder if it is time to change things up a bit.

Every now and then I completely clear my refrigerator of its artifacts, decide what needs to stay and what can be tossed, recycled, or filed away. A few years ago when my son was in college he gave me a map he created in one of his classes, "Car-less in Philadelphia." It was an offering for my refrigerator, one of those sweet moments that evoke years long past when refrigerator offerings were daily gifts.

There's also a bumper sticker from Penzey's - "Love people. Cook them tasty food." A magnet from Omega Institute that says, "JOY." A magnet from ELCA World Hunger with a table prayer, the same one I learned as a child and prayed every night at our dinner table. A postcard my cousin sent from Norway, with sweeping views of mountains and a waterscape. An article about the birth of baby jaguars at an area zoo. Magnets my kids made when they were little. The paint has faded a bit and some of the sequins have fallen off. A note card. I'm not sure from whom. When I got up and looked, I realized it's there simply because I like the picture and the word, "HOPE" that dominates the lower right corner. 

A couple of comics I cut out of the paper. Some lists. A tiny horoscope cut out of the newspaper. Magnets people or organizations have given me. A carry-out menu and coupons from a pizza place I've never ordered from. A concert program. 

And my favorite fortune from a Chinese restaurant.

It's funny what we collect. 

I have access to three sides of my fridge. And while the front of the fridge is a wild, chaotic snapshot of what I collect in the moment, one side is carefully organized like a bulletin board with necessities. Over on the side next to my kitchen sink, I've got a couple of pictures of the kids when they were little and a few other things that sustain me as I wash dishes. The cabinets over the sink are painted metal and so they've also attracted a couple of magnets. 

It might be fun to take an afternoon and pull everything down, see what goes back up, and what treasures have been right before me that I haven't paid much attention to because they're so close I've stopped giving them my conscious attention.

I'll bet my whole house is full of such treasure troves.

I wonder what happens when we stop and take some time with these repositories of manifestation dreams. When we stop waiting for the right time or the convenient time or the available time, and simply make time. 

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an unusual Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

Re-Creation

A perfect morning.

Of course, there is no such thing as absolute perfection, but I think we can have perfect moments, when everything is aligned and we are part of that alignment. It was in one of those moments that I pulled out my laptop today and began writing. 

I write in a moment of perfection.

And simply acknowledging that enables me to close my eyes and to be in that perfection. Suspended. I stop typing and sink into it once again and discover I still have access to it. I allow myself to anchor there for some time and discover replenishment, renewal, perhaps even re-creation. 

Recreation, or re-creation, is another of those words like remembering, or re-membering, resourcing, or re-sourcing. Casual-use words that have deeper implications.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an unusual Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

Re-Sourcing

Resource.

Noun and verb. Think about it. 

As I was thinking about it this morning, I was thinking about it as a verb very much the way I think about the verb remember or re-member. It had me going off into some interesting thought directions related to this word, some I haven't thought about before. 

I love when that happens.

There are so many great definitions for the word source. So many just come up out of memory. Things like - a generative force, or origin of a stream of water. Or of a great river. 

If we re-source then, we get back in touch with our generative force, or the origin point of ourselves as a flowing stream of energy and life force. 

There's something about that that captures my imagination and gives me energy.  

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

Reboot

Shut down and restart. That sounds about right.

Is there anything else to say?

HA! There had better be.

My long day at work. Last day before some time off. I had everything ordered and organized. 

Under control. 

Hahaha

The best laid plans. 

Sometimes you just have to go with it and then regroup later. It was that kind of day.

I think I've written about this kind of thing before. 

So I arrived home a few hours later than expected. Was famished and contemplating pizza. Baked a chicken breast instead and roasted a sweet potato. In one baking dish for easy clean up. Diced a little onion and chopped a peach. When I pulled out the dish about ten minutes before it was done, I added a little Annie's bbq sauce to the chicken and the diced onions on top. Tossed the peaches with the sweet potatoes and let them roast together. Served it all over some naked raw spinach. 

Boy, was it good.

And just what I needed, with some sparkling mineral water.

The perfect regroup after one of those days.

Time for a reboot. 

Hopefully I can do that for a couple of days before I fly out to visit my daughter for a few days. The word restore is emerging as a need these days. All these "re-" words. 

I am glad we get the chance for so many do-overs and do-agains.





The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

Choosing Resilience

I noticed today what it takes for me to be thrown off my balance. 

And after about ninety minutes of having a reaction, I'm sitting back and noticing what there is to notice.

Redirection. It's a beautiful thing. 

Booting the catastrophic thoughts. Necessary for my mental health. And for yours, by the way.

Self-compassion and being my own compassionate witness. A powerful tool for supporting the self. 

I wanted to write today about what a beautiful day I've been having and what's made it a beautiful day. The power of a reset. I set aside the morning to regain my equilibrium after several days of overworking. And it was such a beneficial move. If I'd written in the morning, that would have been the post. 

Note to self: write when the spirit moves you. Don't save it for later.

As I'm writing now, I realize that the only thing that can throw me off my center is my own reactions. It's such a powerful insight that I learn again and again and again. And it's interesting to notice how easily our thoughts can go to the worst possible conclusions. I think that happens because we like to be in control, and we figure that if we can take ourselves to the worst place, and if that worst place should be the outcome of whatever is going on, we'll be ready for it.

I'm not sure we're ever ready for the worst, even if we think we are prepared.

I think. I think. I think that catastrophic thinking simply gives us an unneeded and harmful rush of stress hormones that wreak havoc with our body, mind, emotions, and spirit.

So as I sit here at the keyboard, before the once-blank screen reflecting on my reaction in the cool light of the next moment, I think...I think...I think I am going to choose the reset.

I notice the body symptoms have calmed. I am laughing at myself. And I'm even enjoying the wink of the Trickster as he moves off until another time. 

Resilience. 

Elasticity. Pliability. Suppleness. Plasticity. Spring. Give. Flexibility. Durability. Strength. Sturdiness. Toughness. Hardiness. Adaptability. Buoyancy. Strength of character. Ability to bounce back. Ability to last. 

The capability of a strained body to recover its size and shape after deformation caused especially by compressive stress.

And there is more. That is only some of what Merriam-Webster has to say.

I love noticing that resilience is an ability. 

The ability to be pliable. The ability to be flexible. The ability to be durable. The ability to be adaptable. The ability to bounce back. The ability to last. Of course, some of these have being able built right into the substance of what they are.

Able.

Having the power, skill, means, or opportunity to do something.

I must stop with the word study. It can go on and on and on, taking me to deeper and deeper understandings, connections, and insights. 

I especially love noticing that there is an inner power that restores us from the pressure of an outside force. 

I think that's the crux of it.

There is an inner power that restores us from the pressure of an outside force.

And it's ours. Part of the substance of who we are. 

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to cultivate three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

Resetting Boundaries

I need to read my own blog.

About six years ago I wrote about personal power and setting boundaries. And today it seems that no matter where I turn, I am running into places where I need to set and hold a boundary. 

Often we think that boundary setting has to do with other people when, in truth, it has to do with ourselves. The strongest boundaries we can set are with ourselves. Where is the line within that I cannot cross? And not that I can't cross it, but to do so would not be good for me.

The question then becomes - where is the line within that I will not cross? A more powerful statement. A decision.

I'm finding the need to take a strong exhale here and to remember to breathe.

Why is boundary setting so difficult?

I think that there are several reasons, and I'm finding them hurtling toward my consciousness in the moment like a chaotic mass of indistinct threads. 

One reason may be that we don't want to disappoint other people, and another may be that we don't want to disappoint ourselves. Ultimately, I think it all boils down to this at its core. With these kinds of struggles, I think it's best if we can simplify it as much as we can. Otherwise, we get lost in the mind's arguments fueled by ego and the false self. 

So, one sentence, one reason, we can hold and work with.

The authentic self knows where its lines are. We can feel them in the body, and the body never lies. For me, I can feel uncomfortable sensations in my body that seem to be signaled by the amygdala. In a very real sense, boundary issues are life and death issues for us. 

It's important to be aware of that, otherwise we will continue to be nice to others rather than kind to ourselves. 



The tricky thing is that sometimes ego and the false self sends us their own amygdala-fueled signals. So we must be discerning. Drop into the place of wisdom, slow our breathing, and notice without judgment what is going on for us.

For myself, I find that I usually take myself to my limit and then experience anger and frustration. That clues me in that something is going on for me. At that time I have to set aside the anger and frustration, thanking it for its service, and step into a place of discernment.  I will often journal or speak to myself out loud, until I can discover what is going on with me. Sometimes a walk in nature helps if I can get outside. Sometimes I talk to a trusted friend.

I look at the situation from as many sides as I can. I try to discover where I have any blind spots. I listen for places where I see repeating patterns in my experience. What do they tell me? 

When I was younger, there were times when I had to admit to myself that I might not be able to emotionally handle the work I needed to do in my psyche. After identifying that, I would step into a place of non-judgment if I could and simply acknowledge that. Life will continue to send us situations that highlight the inner work we need to do until we do it. 

I'm chuckling as I think about writing that there is never just one opportunity or one way to do our inner work.






The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to cultivate three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an unusual Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.