On Miracles (Blog #1016)

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Okay. Where are we going tonight?

For the last 1,000+ days I’ve sat down to blog and had this question somewhere in my mind. Granted, there have been times that I’ve absolutely KNOWN–these are the things I want to say. But even then writing has been the adventure that creativity is, full of twists, turns, and oh-wow moments. Not one single time in the last three years have I not been surprised by what’s inevitably birthed here at this keyboard, be it a clever phrase, a happy joke, or a somber theme. Even when I’m totally blank and thinking, Well, that’s it, I’m all dried up, some idea comes along out of nowhere to save my ass. Even when I’m certain I’m creatively bankrupt, something good magically appears.

Overall, today has been fabulous. Almost everyone, or at least the news anchors, in our area have been concerned with the weather (there have been tornado warnings), but I’ve been concerned with brooches, working on framing a few recent acquisitions. And whereas I got one project done today, I’m still waiting on paint and glue to dry before I can finish two others. Ugh. Everything is always a process. Both in art and in life, it seems that nothing is ever “done.” The good news about this, I suppose, is that not being done leaves room for The Mystery. Until you’ve reached the last page in a book–the last word–the story’s not over.

This evening I had dinner with a friend I’ve known for–gosh–over fifteen years now, one of the first people I came out to. Anyway, they made spaghetti, and we did what we always do–laugh, share stories, console. Then while I was on my way home I thought about how so very often I’m worried about money but how time with an old, true friend is absolutely priceless. How even if I had all the money in the world it wouldn’t have made tonight any better.

Well, it might have paid for some chocolate cake.

But still, I was happy.

We had cookies.

When I got home I helped my dad put a homemade dog bed (fashioned from old bath mats and a comforter) in my parents’ room for our family dog, Ella. My parents have a waterbed, and there’s a crawl-through space, a hiding area underneath the headboard where I guess Ella likes to go to chill out, get away, and rest her paws. Anyway, I positioned her new bed inside the crawl space, and she went right to it. Later I checked and she was still there, totally relaxed, content. This is my point about being happy. We make it complicated, but–really–it takes so little. Currently I’m in a comfortable chair sipping hot tea and listening to the rainfall.

What more do you need?

Now, an hour ago, just before I sat down to blog, I checked my bank account because I need to pay bills tomorrow. And whereas I’m not destitute–y’all–it wasn’t pretty. Hell, it hasn’t been pretty in years, especially since I closed my dance studio and started chasing my dream of being a writer. (My therapist says, “You ARE a writer.” So I correct myself–chasing my dream of being a PAID writer.) Ugh. I have friends that make both positive and sarcastic comments about how NICE it must be to sleep in every day and spend my days reading, writing, and–now–framing brooches. And, y’all, it is. It is NICE. But trying something new and living a non-conventional life always comes at a cost. And whereas it’s not always a financial cost, it often is, at least for a while. I add “at least for a while” because that’s my hope, that–sooner or later–the lean times will fatten up.

Dear God, please make it sooner.

Earlier tonight my mom sent me a glorious and emotional video and testimonial by Steve Harvey. Essentially, years ago Harvey was on his last leg, down to his final $35, when he was offered a stand-up gig in New York. Phew, you might think, but Harvey didn’t live in New York and–newsflash–plane tickets cost more than $35. But then–just like that–two other stand-up gigs came through and Harvey was able to make the New York gig. From there, his career took off. Later Mom and I were talking about it, and she reiterated Harvey’s advice–never give up. Because you’re CERTAIN to not succeed if you quit. But if you keep going, well, anything could happen. God could step in.

“That’s one thing about God,” I told Mom. “He always waits until the last damn minute. He’s so dramatic.”

“He certainly can be,” Mom said.

That’s Mom, ever the diplomat.

Getting back to creativity and writing and the idea that you never know what’s going to appear, I suppose this idea applies to our lives too. That is, just when we least expect it, something good comes along. My therapist says she’s noticed this happens a lot for me. Whenever I’m down and thinking, I am SO SCREWED, the universe saves my ass. Out of nowhere, a check shows up. An idea comes along. Even it’s not a windfall (so far it’s never been a windfall), it’s enough to get me through. Regardless, I’m always left dumbfounded, amazed. Just like I am when I consider any good fortune, including any good friend who comes into my life. I think, I never could have planned this. I’m always so surprised. That’s the thing. You never see miracles coming.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We think of hope as something pristine, but hope is haggard like we are.

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you never see miracles coming

Excitement and the Creative Process (Blog #677)

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Yesterday I blogged about how excitement comes at the beginning of a new endeavor, a diet, an exercise program, a writing project. My point was that, unfortunately, the excitement doesn’t last. Inevitably, boredom sets in. Maybe the results aren’t coming as quickly as you’d like. (Do they ever?) At that point, you have to make a choice. Am I going to stick with this thing or not? Do I mean business or don’t I? In terms of my experience with this blog, I know I’m rarely excited about sitting down and pounding out five hundred or a thousand words on the daily. Thankfully, the excitement I initially felt when starting this project has–somewhere along the way–been transformed into something better, something akin to fondness and belief. That is, I’m fond of this project, fond enough to show up here day after day. Likewise, I believe in this project, and that belief, I think, is ultimately what’s required to sustain any longterm endeavor, be it a blog, a healthy lifestyle, or a relationship.

More on this shortly.

Last night my dad, who’s overweight and notorious for saying, “I’ll start that diet or exercise program next week,” actually went to the gym with me. No shit, walked in the front door of Planet Fitness, put his hands on his hips and hollered, “IS THIS THE JUDGMENT FREE ZONE?” Oh my god, y’all, I NEVER talk to anyone at the gym, and Dad waltzes right in there and starts making friends. The next thing I knew, he’d signed up and was getting a tour. When I signed up, I said, “I’ll show myself around, thanks.” Anyway, it really was fabulous having him there, even though we worked on different machines. In a room full of strangers (or rather, people you refuse to introduce yourself to), it’s good to know someone. It’s good to know someone’s in your corner.

Now it’s 9:15 in the evening. Fifteen minutes ago Dad asked if we were going back to the gym today, so I’m trying to type fast so we can. Personally, I don’t mind going at midnight, but Dad prefers to go earlier. And since I got up this morning at 7:30 for an appointment with my massage therapist and chiropractor, I don’t mind saying it would be nice to workout before I mentally turn into a pumpkin.

This afternoon I washed my car, Tom Collins, for the first time since I injured my knee two months ago. It’s weird the things you take for granted when your legs work, like being able to vacuum your backseat or scrub your tires with a cleaning brush. Anyway, it really felt super, giving Tom a good once-over. Plus, the sun was shining, and that really puts a smile on my face. Ugh, the sky has been so gloomy lately. I keep telling myself, Spring is coming. Just wait, spring is coming.

This evening I went to a local bookstore, Bookish, to hear my friend, writing instructor, and local author Anita Paddock speak. Anita recently wrote not one–but two–true crime novels about murders that took place right here in Van Buren around 1980 (the year I was born). Well, she’s in the process of finalizing her third true crime novel about four people who were also murdered here in Crawford County around 1980, and tonight Anita gave a group of us a verbal outline of the story and read an expert from her book, which should come out this summer.

Y’all, I can’t tell you what a shot in the arm it was to see Anita tonight. Not only is she a wonderful presenter and storyteller, but it’s always inspiring to see someone you know succeed and be supported by their community. Dreams come true. People are in your corner. Plus, going to a bookstore is my version of going to church, and I got both inspired and excited about a few writing projects that I’ve been putting off for, well, a long damn while now. Not that I haven’t been thinking about them, but I tend to put a lot of pressure on myself. I think, This has got to be good, and then I never sit down to start because I’m too afraid. What if it’s not good? In short, I “dig in” and “get serious” about potential projects–two things that are good to do, but not right away–before allowing myself to be excited about them first. The result, sadly, is I end up squashing my dreams before they have a chance to take hold.

You need excitement to jumpstart you.

Since I was inspired and excited tonight, I immediately took action. First I called a friend of mine about an idea I had. Then I went to another bookstore (that was still open) to get more ideas. Y’all, this was so much fun for me, just thinking about possibilities. This is the great thing about excitement–it thinks everything is possible. For a creative, this is absolutely necessary. You need excitement to jumpstart you, to carry you into the hard work, which–no doubt–will come. And hopefully by that point you’ve grown so fond of your project, that you won’t turn back. Hopefully by that point you’ll believe so much in what you’re doing–and, more importantly in yourself–that you’ll keep showing up regardless of mood, regardless of whether the sky is gloomy or the sun shines bright.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Allowing someone else to put you down or discourage your dreams is, quite frankly, anything but self-care.

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I Was Here (Blog #349)

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Last night I was up until six in the morning, partly because I drank a lot of coffee yesterday, partly because I have a rash (where no one wants to have a rash), and it’s been itching like crazy. When I saw my dermatologist a couple days ago, it wasn’t so bad. But things have gotten dramatically worse. I guess when my rash got a glimpse of my doctor, it decided it wasn’t going down without a fight. Anyway, I called my dermatologist today, and his nurse told me, “Do this.” I said, “I’ve been doing that for a week.”

“Oh,” she said. “Let me call you back.” So now I’m still itching but have another appointment, seven not-so-short days away.

Tomorrow I’m planning to go out-of-town for the swing dance convention I’ve been working with the last two months. Part of me is hesitant to go because my energy is low and I get winded walking up stairs. Hell, I get winded riding in an elevator. But I’ve worked really hard for this event, and I’d like to experience at least part of it in person. Plus, I think it will do me good to get out-of-town and spend some time on the road with Tom Collins (my beloved car). I just need to pace myself and take it easy.

Since I’m trying to get in bed soon in order to wake up in the morning, pack, and hit the road at a decent hour, I just took two Benadryl. Plus, the dermatologist said an extra anti-histamine or two could help with the rash. Either way, Benadryl almost always knocks me out, so I’m hoping for a good night’s sleep. That being said, I’m currently rushing to get this blog done, since I don’t know when I’ll become too woozy to function.

Considering that last half-sentence took me ten minutes to write, perhaps that time is now.

I imagine the next few days at the dance event will be jam-packed. When I originally said that I would go, I hesitated because of the blog. My one-year anniversary is at the end of the month, and I didn’t (and don’t) want to get down there, wear myself out, and somehow let a day go by without writing. But I don’t think that will happen. I’m too far into it now, too committed. Plus, over the course of the last eleven months, I’ve figured out how to work this in even on the busiest of days. I used to think that every blog had to be a thousand words, something super deep or beautiful. But now I know that’s not the case. Some days it’s more than enough to simply show up and say, “I was here.”

You keep trying.

This is something I’ve learned about the creative process, not just from reading about it, but from living it for the last 349 days. I can sit down every day to write, but I never know what’s going to end up on the page. Likewise, I can apply creams and take anti-histamines for my rash, but I have no idea whether it’s going to heal. As far as this blog goes, I know that many of my posts are average while others are absolutely over the moon. Either way, I try not to take too much credit. Sure, I’m committed to showing up every day and doing the work, but not once have I ever been able to “force” a super-deep or beautiful post. They either happen or they don’t. When they do, I’m just as surprised and delighted as anyone else. When they don’t, well, that’s just part of the process, part of life. But I’m learning that you don’t quit simply because every day isn’t a banner day. Rather, you keep showing up, you keep doing the best you can, you keep trying.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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As taught in the story of the phoenix, a new life doesn't come without the old one first being burned away.

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