Unstuck At Last

It’s always darkest before the dawn.

“Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” ~Sylvia Plath

A couple years ago, I had a flash about a story I might like to tell. I just could not figure out how to do it. What person should I use to tell it? Should I tell both points of view or just one? How could I tell the story of a lifetime in bits an pieces and still tie it all together? How far would the characters go? How would it all work out? I became trapped in the quagmire of questions. I could not get unstuck.

So, I made some notes, tossed the idea on the back burner, and waited for the rest of the inspiration to come to me. I waited two years. It did not come. This weekend away from my family, I knew I would have time to revisit this with a clear head and no obligations. Late Friday afternoon before meeting a friend, I pulled out the laptop and resurrected my notes. I thought they might look different to me after all this time, so I looked at them. Actually, I stared at them until I went cross-eyed. Nothing. I could not stop over thinking the logistics of the story I had already mapped out in my head. They were killing me. I gave up, closed the laptop, and went out with my friend.

Then, an incredible thing happened. After a couple Moscow Mules, I began to get unstuck. My brain opened up and started entertaining possibilities instead of stopping at road blocks. The ideas started to flow. I spent most of yesterday thinking about the conversations that had happened the night before to jumpstart the creativity.  And today, with nine uninterrupted hours in the car driving home from Utah, I brainstormed. I got out my iPhone and took voice memos. When I stopped, I took notes. Suddenly, I felt confident that I could say what I needed to say. What had bogged me down, it turns out, was a lack of imagination. With my background in professional and technical writing, I’ve not traditionally been allowed to change details or move a story around. But, I’m not that person anymore. I’m free of those fetters. It’s my story. A fiction story. I can make up whatever I want. 

I’m certain there will be other things that will stop me in my tracks throughout this process, but after this minor  breakthrough I feel I can handle any additional challenges with a different perspective. If I get stuck again, I will go back to my muse for inspiration. And, if that fails, I’m heading to a bar because I think another couple Moscow Mules might fix me right up.

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The Ugly Truth About Writers

Little Cottonwood Canyon

Tonight as I was talking to my friend, Tracy, her wonderful husband Shane tolerating our chatter with the patience of a saint all through dinner and beyond, she asked me if I found writing “easy.” People rarely ask me about writing. I’m not sure if it’s because they already read my blog so they feel they already know how it’s going or if it’s because they’re afraid I will bore them with details about proper grammar. Either way, the question took me by surprise.

I told her I’ve now written for over 150 consecutive days, which is a personal record. I never thought I could do it. And, what started as a rather nondescript goal of publishing something online every day has turned into an excuse to practice writing. And, that’s what I am doing. I am practicing it.

Writing has never been easy for me because I am highly self-critical. The act of putting words on paper or text on screen is easy, but that’s not writing. Writing is the continual revision of work, the search for the best turn of phrase, the quest to discover the perfect quirk for the main character, the non-stop pouring out of your heart for the world to see and judge. This blogging I’ve been doing has been slowly allowing me to discover my own voice as a writer. This, it is my deepest hope, will lead me to write down one of the books I’ve been formulating in my head for years. On scraps of paper and in shoddily marked folders on my hard drive exist pages of notes with ideas, phrases, character sketches, and book titles. Somewhere in that information is the book I will write. It may get published or it may not. But, I know I have a book in me somewhere.

Not everyone who can write is a writer, but every serious writer I know will honestly tell you that writing, though rewarding, is exceedingly difficult. I have often said that all writers are tortured artists, not because we’re all a bunch of lost souls, drowning in vodka bottles and fumigating ourselves with chain-smoked cigarettes. We’re tortured souls because writing done correctly is torturous. It’s a non-stop process until you either collapse with satisfaction or simply can no longer stand to listen to yourself talk and so finally decide to shut up. So, do I find writing easy? Not particularly. But, out of all the difficult things I have done, writing is the only one I enjoy suffering through. Maybe the truth then is not that writers are tortured souls but rather that we are masochists.

 

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Road Trip

Top of Vail Pass at 9:30 a.m.

I love a good, old-fashioned road trip. There’s simply something about the open road, no timetable, and a completely obligation-free day ahead of me that makes every other single thing in my life simply melt away. Today was a thing of beauty. This morning, I dropped the kids at school at 8:10 as usual. I ran down to Starbucks for a triple venti latte because all that driving would certainly require three shots of espresso, right? Then, without a care in the world, I hit the highway bound for Salt Lake City.

I know Salt Lake isn’t necessarily the most glamorous locale, but on a day with no other plans it doesn’t seem like such a bad place to end up, either. I had a perfect day for it, clear skies and zero traffic. The only thing I had planned all day was dinner with an old, college friend (emphasis on the college part, not the old part) once I got to Salt Lake. I love to drive. When I got to the top of Vail pass at 9:30, it was already 52 degrees there…a sign that the day was going to go well. And, it did. I stopped several times along the way to revel in the scenery and take deep yoga breaths to enjoy the moment.

Made it!

I finally arrived in Salt Lake around dinner time. I met my friend Jay for a couple drinks at Bar X (I finally tried the Moscow Mule my sister has been raving about) and then dinner. We ate at a downtown Salt Lake restaurant called Zy. Over an incredible cheese board and some wine, we caught up and discussed how different life was for us 20+ years after college graduation. We joked that the main thing that had changed after all this time was the restaurants we could afford go to. Funny how that works. I’m lucky to have friendships like the one I have with Jay, where the only thing that changes over time is the locale where we meet.

All in all, I had a flawless road trip day. There are few things in this world that, for me, can take the place of the peace I feel when I venture out in my car, radio blaring, schedule wide open, the entire day at my disposal. Even on a trip like this one, where I’m only ending up 8 hours away on the other side of the Rockies from our home, I still feel an overwhelming sense of joy driving my car down whatever highway calls. You know what? Not once today was my mind preoccupied with anything other than the current moment. How perfect is that?

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To Infinity and Beyond

Sometimes the universe just tests me for fun.

I realized this morning while driving my kids to school that this blog could go on forever. The purpose of it was to use writing to reflect on finding more peace, joy, and gratitude in my life. The problem with this notion is that the thing that most frustrates and annoys me is people. Yes. People. And, as you know, people are everywhere. Well, maybe it’s not all people, but it certainly is the ones who are stupid, self-serving, or inconsiderate, and especially those who are all three of those things combined.

Every day I drive. I drive quite a bit. On a rare, low-travel day, I spend maybe just an hour in my car. On a busy day, I might spend as many as 4 hours in my car. Do you know what? People drive, or at least they try to, and I am out there on the road with them. Despite my best efforts, I cannot find a way to get over the little annoyances in traffic and get to my happy place. This is how I know that zen is still a long way off for me.

I admit it. I do get thoroughly exasperated when the woman across from me at a two-way stop crossing a busy street expects me to read her mind and go first when traffic abates (even though she was at the intersection first and therefore I am yielding my right-of-way to her). I get even more frustrated when she starts waving her arms at me as if to say, “Go already, you idiot.” Oh…I’m sorry lady. I’m a little rusty with my psychic skills. I didn’t realize you wanted me to go first because you didn’t let me know that with a polite hand gesture before you started cursing me out. My bad. The correct response in this situation would be to take a deep breath, smile politely, wave to thank her, and then let that moment and that cranky woman fall from my mind. Instead, I’m sitting here writing about it. Totally not zen.

I could go to infinity and beyond listing the ways that people annoy me, but that would only prove that I need therapy and probably anger management classes too. Yesterday I wrote about how the universe is continually giving me lessons about getting out of my head and living in the moment. Perhaps the people annoying me are part of the long-term lesson plan the universe has in mind for me? If that’s the case, it seems to be working overtime because I sure do encounter a copious amount of aggressive, distracted, and otherwise traffic-law-impaired drivers. (You know I’m talking about the people who don’t understand there is a distinct and legitimate difference between the meanings of the words “yield” and “merge.”)

I promise, Universe, I will try to release my frustrations with people. I will. I will take deep breaths and stop mentally yelling at them. Will you please do me one favor, though, and keep that white Ford SUV out of MY regular space at Target?  Twice this week it’s been parked there. It sure would encourage my unquestioning faith in your powers if you could work that out for me.

Yeah. I’m going to be working on this zen thing for a long, long time, I think. 😉

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I Get It Already

Oh, how I love my office.

I truly believe that when you need to learn something, the Universe will provide lesson after lesson to get you to where you need to be. The trick is being aware enough to read the signs. Lately, I’ve been somewhat obsessed with the idea of living in the present moment, mostly because I suck at it. I’m always in my brain, planning something, imagining something, dissecting something. I feel I’ve been challenged to get beyond these mental gymnastics. If I’m ever to grow in spirit, I need to get the heck out of my head. This, as my mother would say, is my “growing edge,” which is why it’s so challenging.

This weekend I was slated to travel to a conference to learn more about my options in the writing and publishing industry. I’ve long toyed with the idea of writing a book (likely non-fiction, but I keep an open mind about fiction too), but I’ve got no idea where to start. Before I devote a huge chunk of my time to writing a serious work, I thought I would learn more about the industry and make sure I know what my options are and what I am getting myself into. Well, guess what? Three days before the conference, the publishing company had to cancel the event due to unforeseen circumstances. It’s been rescheduled for this summer, which is fantastic, but I had a hotel room booked, a non-refundable, no changes, there’s-no-way-you’re-getting-your-money-back hotel room. Crap.

I immediately did what I always do when I get news like this. I had a little mental hissy fit. I mean, seriously? I was really looking forward to this. Travel by myself for the weekend. Have dinner with some friends I haven’t seen in a long time. Get out of my daily routine. Relax and recharge before summer starts and the kids are here 24/7. Crap. Disappointed here! Then, something miraculous happened. I stopped to breathe. I actually listened to my own advice and I stopped to breathe. After a couple minutes, I allowed myself to return to my head to weigh my options. There were only two. I could skip the trip. Sure I’d lose the money invested in the hotel room, but I could spend the weekend at home with my family and save up for the trip I’ll have to make later. Or, I could take the trip anyway, see my friends, and spend some quality time alone with my thoughts, my laptop, and my luxury SUV. Either way, I didn’t need to invest hours in the fabricated drama created by an unexpected decision. Instead of wasting time being disappointed and pouting about it, I could make a decision and move on with the present moment. So, I did. As an early Mother’s Day gift to myself, I’m going on my trip this weekend.

With that drama dispatched, I am able to sit here in the shade on our back patio, enjoy the chattering finches and the melodious meadowlarks, feel the warm, spring breeze on my skin, and just be here and now. I’m making progress. Little by little, I am getting better at refocusing myself when I get distracted from the current moment. Granted, I still have a long way to go, but my response time when I get sidetracked by minutiae is getting quicker. So, Universe, I get it already. I see what you’re trying to do here. Believe me…I appreciate it.

 

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What I Need Is All Around Me

“What I want is what I’ve not got, but what I need is all around me.”  ~Dave Matthews Band

I was pedaling furiously on my bike on its indoor trainer today, listening to my iTunes library on shuffle when Jimi Thing by the Dave Matthews Band came on. I’m fairly certain I know the entire Under the Table and Dreaming album by heart. Today, though, for some reason, this song lyric hit me more directly than it has before. It perfectly describes how I exist most of the time. I am always wanting something that I don’t have, looking over someone else’s shoulder and wondering if what they have might have been better for me. I live more in my head than in my heart, which is wrong on more levels than I can count.

The struggle to get out of my head and into the present moment is a non-stop task for me. I feel like Sisyphus, compelled to push that rock to the top of the hill only to have it come loose and roll down before I achieve my goal. I know in my heart that I have everything in the world to be happy about, but there’s always this little part of me that ends up battling the monstrous “What If” beast. It’s a horrific waste of time.

I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Everything I have done has led me to become the person I am today. If I strip away everything that I want (or think I want), what remains is what I need and nothing more. And, that is where my focus should be…on my loving and supportive spouse, my crazy and fun kids, my amazing friends, a safe and secure home, and good health. As with so many things in life, the key is gratitude not greed. So, I’m going to focus on the second part of that lyric, rather than the first part. What I need is all around me. Why bother worrying about anything else?

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So We Beat On, Boats Against The Current

Ummm…yeah. No.

I’ve noticed lately that because we’ve had such warm, pleasant weather, spring fever has hit my boys early and relentlessly. They are already mentally finished with school, and they aren’t actually finished until May 25th. I’ve been pestering, wheedling, bribing, and cajoling to get them to focus on their studies.

Today, I made the boys sit down and get to their homework as soon as we walked in the door from school. Joe had 30 sentences to write for spelling. He did not want any help from me. Before I knew it, he was over at the counter stapling a couple loose-leaf pages together. I could tell from across the counter that his work was nearly illegible.

“Let me see your paper,” I requested.

“No, Mom. It’s done. I’m going to put it in my folder,” Joe replied.

“No, you’re not. Give it to me.” He looked at me, fear in his eyes. “NOW,” I bossed.

He acquiesced. The second the paper hit my hand I knew what I had to do. I was not happy about it.

“Seriously, Joe? Do you really think this is ready to hand in?”

It was a rhetorical question. His handwriting, usually difficult to read, was indecipherable. It might as well have been Sanskrit. While he had managed to capitalize the first word in every sentence, some sentences lacked final punctuation. Many words were incomplete. Most of the sentences did not have the spelling word underlined. Some of the spelling words were actually misspelled.

“No way,” I told him. “This has to be redone. This is not even close to acceptable work.”

“The WHOLE thing?” he gasped.

“Yes. You need to rewrite all thirty sentences. Neatly.”

“But, I’ll never get outside to play,” he cried.

“Yes, you will. It’s just going to take longer because you didn’t take your time the first time through. It’s a bummer, I know.”

Although I could tell he was livid (and sad too), he was careful to select new paper without any sign of tantrum, knowing that would bring down the Wrath of Mama Bear. No one wants to incur that. He sat focused for a while and his second paper was much neater, although still not perfect given his “sloppy Joe” penmanship.

Joe struggles with his schoolwork, not because he’s unintelligent but because his ADHD makes it difficult for him. The great weather and the approaching end of the school year are merely additional distractions he must face. I feel badly for him. It is much harder for him than it is for his classmates, even with the special concessions the school makes for him (like allowing him to print rather than use cursive for his written work). I truly loathe making him redo his work, but if I don’t make him do this now he will never learn. So, nearly every day he has homework we go through this same routine. He does it. I make him redo it. It’s like one long Groundhog Day. And this would frustrate the living daylights out of me if I hadn’t seen him catch on in other instances. It takes four times longer than it would for another child, but he eventually gets it. I know there’s hope.

I used to wonder whether the diagnosis of ADHD with Joe was unnecessary, whether we’d rushed to judgment. I’ve since realized that this is not a phony disorder with Joe. If you ask him, he can tell you that every sentence should start with a capital letter and end with a period. He knows it. He is simply unable to translate this knowledge because his brain thinks differently and he processes things unlike other people. Joe and I have a tacit understanding: I will keep harping on him until the basics become second nature, and he will keep giving me reasons to harp so that I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that he truly struggles because of ADHD and not because he’s lazy, stupid, or unmotivated. He doesn’t want to redo that paper any more than I want to make him redo it. We’re where we are because it’s where we are. Someday we will push beyond this, and there will be another obstacle. But, I have no doubt that we will overcome it. That is what we do, Joe and I.

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Dorothy Was Right

 

On the ride home from Moab today, we made the boys turn off their DVD player for a few minutes so we could recap our weekend’s adventures, the good and bad parts, the things that will stick with us in our memories.

My birthday is May 27 and this is what I would like please.

 

I loved how when got to the Comfort Suites in Moab and checked into our room, Joe’s exact comment was “Whoa! This is the nicest hotel room we’ve ever stayed in!” Keep in mind that our son has stayed at both The Broadmoor in Colorado Springs and The Hotel Jerome in Aspen, not to mention a 4-star resort on Captiva Island in Florida and several top-tier hotels in Norway. Apparently, those places have nothing on the Moab Comfort Suites. Good to know he’s not been spoiled by his travels. Joe’s favorite part was the hike to Delicate Arch (even though we scared him by taking a slightly off-track route along a seemingly perilous edge). He complained, however, that the traffic in Moab was “the worst,” a fairly amusing comment from a kid from Denver who sits in traffic all the time. Even with the April Action Car Show there this weekend, Moab could not possibly rival Denver’s traffic. Besides, we got to see all those cool, classic cars.

Luke buried at Sand Dune Arch.

Both boys agreed that the most fun arch in the park was Sand Dune arch. (Gee. I wonder why.) They also thought the hike to Broken Arch was the best, and that Double Arch wins the award for being the coolest arch. Luke’s only major disappointment was that the Moab Brewery did not have any plain vanilla ice cream and so he had to go without dessert last night.

Steve and I both thought the hike we did with the boys last night in the Park Avenue section of Arches was the best part. We were there on the desert floor, surrounded by these massive rock “fins.” It was sunset, and it felt like we were the only people in the world. (Although as Joe, Master of The Obvious, pointed out, we really weren’t the only people in the world because someone else had made that trail.) Still, it’s rare to have a trail to yourself and it’s even rarer when that trail is in a national park. If Steve and I had a complaint, it was only that our hotel room appeared to be located underneath that of a family of four large elephants with very heavy feet who, oddly enough, decided to walk the stairs next to our room repeatedly rather than taking the elevator. Aside from the somewhat noisy hotel room, we thought the entire trip was a success.

Park Avenue at sunset

We all agreed, though, as we pulled off C-470 and began heading south on Wadsworth toward our home with the sunset illuminating the sky, no matter how much fun we have on any trip we are always happy to pull into our neighborhood. Traveling is something we all love to do, but Dorothy was right. There’s no place like home.

 

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Careful What You Wish For

The four of us together on a sunset hike

Steve and I like to hike. It’s been something we’ve done together since the very beginning of our relationship. When our boys were small, we took them along in Baby Bjorn carriers and then eventually the toddler carrier backpacks. It was brutal, but we refused to give up on hiking. When they were between 2 and 5, I would take the double jogger stroller to Roxborough or Waterton Canyon and push them through the hike so I didn’t have to carry them. Eventually, we accepted that they needed to be walking the entire time, so we slowed our pace, knowing that if we wanted them to become good hikers we would actually have to let them hike. Gradually their skills improved, and the distances they were able to travel increased.

Last year was a watershed year. They were finally able to do 7 mile hikes without getting too tired. We were thrilled. On our hike up Carpenter Peak, we’d have to play crazy games to keep them motivated (the boys yelling, “Stop…you separatist dogs” the entire time) but they were doing it. Although we were happy with the distances they could go, we weren’t pleased with the bribery that would have to take place to keep them moving occasionally. One day I promised them Sonic for lunch if we could get through a three-mile hike with a moderate climb in just an hour. We made it in an hour and two minutes; I had a cheeseburger and a strawberry slush that day for lunch.

Today, we hiked about 8 miles through Arches National Park with them. We never once had to beg them to keep going. In fact, we couldn’t get close enough to them to talk to them. We had to keep yelling ahead telling them not to run out of our field of view. You know what that means? It means THAT day has come…the dreaded day when you realize the torch has been passed and you can no longer keep up with your kids. This notion is especially depressing when you stop to consider the fact that you’re in the best shape you’ve been in for years. How can we be so good and yet not good enough? I’ll tell you how. We’re old. It’s official.

I guess my point is be careful what you wish for. We were so excited to have kids who could keep up with us. Last year they did. This year they’ve surpassed us. If there’s a silver lining in all of this, however, it’s that in a couple years they’ll hit that sullen, resentful, grumpy teenage phase where they come along and begrudgingly shuffle their feet and complain the entire way. I’m thinking when they get to that phase, we just might be able to out-hike them again. That’s something, right?

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It’s A Wonderful Life

It’s been a really great day for me, so I thought I would share a bits from this day in my life.

And the award goes to....Luke!

The day started with us taking the boys to school before we headed out for our family trip. The impetus for stopping by school was a surprise for Luke. I’ve known for a few days now that Luke was selected as Student of the Month at Hope Christian Academy. This is a big deal because I know Luke has been working really hard. He didn’t expect it, but I knew the surprise would mean the world to him. When the principal slowly narrowed the winner down…a boy…in second grade…his name is Luke…I could see him about to burst. And, when she asked Luke to come up to the front of the room, he ran up the aisle like a crazy contestant on The Price Is Right. We were pleased that he was good enough to hug her and say thank you. On his way back to our seats, he was passing out high fives to other students. It was the cutest. Luke rode home with the plaque in his lap, telling us where he would like us to mount it to the wall in his room. Sometimes, it’s the smallest things that make the biggest difference to people. When we got home Luke told us, “This has been the best way to start a weekend.” I had to agree.

Mike...we salute your plucky determination

We finally got on the road for our trip around 10:30, several hours after I had hoped we would leave. Still, it was vacation so we were going to act that way. Schedules be damned. We’d get to Moab eventually. We cruised west on I-70, stopping briefly to picnic in Eagle before heading to Fruita where Steve had heard of a coffee store we had to visit. (Personal note: No matter where we go, there is always a local coffee shop we have to visit. We’re doing it to protect the American Dream by buying from independent coffee shops as much as we’re doing it to satisfy our caffeine addictions. Or so we tell ourselves.) We get to Aspen Street Coffee and, lo and behold, there in front of the store is a sculpture of Mike the Headless Chicken. How cool is that? Mike, the story goes, was a rooster whose head was severed by a farmer in 1945 and yet he still survived for 18 months after his decapitation. Mike is a legend. There is a festival in his honor each year in Fruita, a town on the western slope of Colorado known for its agriculture, its mountain biking, and one bad-ass headless chicken.

Sunset hike...check.

We did finally get to Utah. As we drove down the scenic byway toward Moab, Joe waxed rhapsodic about how he felt at home here. The kid was seriously ready to pack his bags and move in along the banks of the Colorado River among the towering red rocks. We told him we’d have to think about it. We decided that a sunset hike to Delicate Arch would be an awesome way to cap off our day, so we headed into Arches National Park at 6:45 p.m. It’s a “strenuous” 1.5 mile hike from the parking lot to the arch, so we hauled it to make sure we’d catch the 8:06 sunset. The boys, who are unbelievable hikers, ran ahead as I tried valiantly to keep up, glad I had started taking those antibiotics yesterday. I hadn’t seen Delicate Arch since a trip with an ex-boyfriend in the summer of 1991. That was another lifetime ago when I was a different person. Today, the weather was a perfect 60 degrees, the sky was flawless, and we arrived at the arch at 7:40 to view the sunset. We sat there with a crowd of photographers and watched the sunset light up the arch. It just doesn’t get better than that.

Some days, you’re given the opportunity to remember how wonderful life is. Today was one of those days. I’m the luckiest gal in the world.

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