I Am NOT In Charge!

Humans insist that we are qualified to run the world. Every so often, the world says “wanna bet?” as it bombards us with proof that we aren’t (i.e., climate change and covid-19). Still our governments assure us they have our backs and that rescue is on its way. Alas, turns out our governments are full of humans. But, being ever hopeful (or stupid), we console ourselves with platitudes like, “Everything will be fine. We just need a little more time.

”This process reminds of the steady thrum of ‘wannabe writers’ as we complain about all the things in our lives that must be done before we find enough time to write.

I, for one, have been saying that since I was 8 years old. I read books that taught me how to manage time and thus find more. Then, twenty-five years ago, I discovered the magic of Morning Pages as recommended in The Artist’s Way. Much to my surprise I stayed steady with this practice until December 25th, 2021. That was the day I realized last year’s journal was full of pages and pages of ‘woe is me’ jumbled up with ‘I am woman!’ declarations, all of it punctuated with daily ‘to-do-lists’, that I don’t complete. Why? Read more

The Mindful Writer & WWIV

Ever tried to herd cats? That question usually produces wry smiles and laughter.  It’s tough when you discover a group you cherish is less like-minded than you believed. 

And so it is with writers. We are all groping blindly for the path that will lead us where we want to go. Sometimes the path is 100% clear but more often, it’s just plain murky. Each time this happens in my world I reach for one of the myriad of writing books that I own. This time it was “The Mindful Writer– Noble Truths of the Writing Life” by Dinty W. Moore (2012). I reviewed his restatement of the 4 noble truths of Buddhism as they apply to the writing life and rapidly concluded that this was exactly what I needed to get back on my path. Read more

Circadian Rhythms and Creativity

Photo by Eleni Koureas ~ Unsplash

I have been thinking a lot lately, actually ruminating, about my method of creativity. It occurs to me that I write blogs, memoire and psychological reports in basically the same way. I always have to draft something in long-hand, then let it sit for a minimum of 24 hours or sometimes days or weeks. Until now I always labeled that as procrastination or laziness. But truly I get too much done every day for those nouns to be accurate.

I know that my mind has always gone a mile a minute as they say. When I was a little girl, age 7 or so, I would hide under the covers and use a flashlight to read after being told by my parents to turn out my light. By the time I was 13, I would lay awake until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning listening to U.S. Radio Stations playing rock and roll. It is any wonder I was late for school 4 out of 5 days a week? When I was in University I ‘pulled-all-nighters’ in order to cram for exams or write essays. And my grades were always good provided I was interested in the subject matter.

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You Just Never Know

What does one do when a year of pandemic stretches on and on promising never to go away? What does one do when the faith one had in the ‘powers that be’ wanes to such an extent that one can no longer imagine a future of any predictability whatsoever? Well, if you are me, you have a “wake up” stroke. 

The literal meaning of that phrase is that a stroke occurred very deep within my brain while I slept on April 21, 2021. Fortunately, the literal side of things are all on the mend and my rehabilitation will be complete on June 10th. The part that’s going to take substantially longer is the figurative side of that “wake-up” event.

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Writing From The Middle

Photo credit: Unsplash.com ~ fotografierende
Photo credit: Unsplash.com ~ fotografierende

A few very bright sunny days had arrived in the middle of ‘The Lockdown Winter’ as I refer to it. I’ve had trouble focusing on writing since December 26th.  I can’t imagine what is worth writing about, as I am only conscious of the things I am not allowed to do at the moment. The way my brain works this thought took me scurrying down the familiar rabbit hole of “why am I so stuck?”

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Bah Humbug

Photo credit: Lori Twining

Bah Humbug (def’n):  An expression used when someone does not approve of or enjoy something that other people enjoy, especially a special occasion such as Christmas.  (Cambridge Dictionary) 

The BAH HUMBUG Christmas of 2020 is coming, steadily advancing, crawling along, daring us to disregard all the Public Health Warnings that bombard us daily with the dangers of Covid-19. Upwards of one half the population of Ontario is in the Grey Zone … locked down once again. We are all cautioned not to travel, not to shop except for essentials and to stay home to protect ourselves and others.

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Thanksgiving 2020

         An early Thanksgiving in Canada, with the prospect of another Covid-19 shutdown looming over us, has brought on the “winter blues” a few weeks earlier than usual. The common phrase “it gets dark so early now” has many people beginning to hibernate. The colour display this weekend on the back roads of Grey County was breath taking. Yet my morning musings seem to draw me unwillingly into the yawning void of the future. 

In two months the first year of the newest pandemic Covid-19 will be logged into each of our ship-of-life books. The world moved incredibly fast in my life time (1946 – 2020) and it seems destined to continue to do so. As maudlin as it may seem I keep struggling with the question:

“What am I leaving behind?” or put it another way “What of me lasts?”

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The Curve Ball

I’ve heard about the Curve Ball being delivered by famous pitchers to equally famous sluggers. Some people watch baseball games just to see it thrown. Apparently, you have to be ‘really good’ to throw it and ‘even better’ to hit it. Why World Series Pennants have been won or lost because of it.

            Now each and every one of us get to check our own score at dealing with the Curve Ball that was thrown into our personal game of life. Mine arrived on March 10, 2020 when the Canadian Government said don’t leave the country. Poof, the vacation to Cuba vanished. Two weeks later I was told to shut down my private practice in psychology. Poof, done! Then my three times a week fitness routine ended. No more socializing with my friends and family. My arm and shoulder began aching from all the ‘woe is me’ commiseration phone calls. Traffic ground to a halt. Virtually everyone in my neighbourhood actually listened to the guidance and abided by the rules. Those that didn’t were easy enough to avoid. 

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