Continuing The Artist's Way

I started Week 4 today after a month off due to travel, not feeling well, etc. I never abandoned the morning pages; in fact, I just finished up a composition book full of them yesterday.

This is the Reading Deprivation Week. Ruth talked about that; many people apparently use reading to numb out a bit. I've met people who do. This is a bit of a conundrum for me, though, as I've just resumed reading for pleasure. Every time I go back to school, which seems to happen every ten years, I get so sick of reading (because it is required) that I don't do it again for a couple of years. The activities Cameron suggests you do instead of reading, such as working out, rearranging the kitchen, etc, is what I have been doing for years instead of reading!

Can this reading restriction be retroactive?

I read Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft over the last two days. I borrowed it from the library; this am I bought my own copy as it was full of gems. One of those gems totally flies in the face of what Julia Cameron says: "If you don't have time to read, you don't have time to write." He posits that to learn how to write, you must read. Of course others say that as well.

Needless to say I am going crazy.

Cameron also suggests baking. I'm still baking bread at least once a week, sometimes twice. In fact, while typing this a new shipment of baking goodies from King Arthur Flour arrived. So tomorrow morning I'll do some baking before I run errands.

Errands tomorrow include a CT scan. I had an xray and a bunch of labs last week due to my under the weather condition; the labs were great, the xray was inconclusive. I have some lumps along my left lower rib that seem attached to it and are getting bigger, so my doc wants to check those out. When I lay on my left side a certain way, it feels as if I'm laying on marbles. They didn't show up on the xray, so thus the CT.

Off now to attend a lecture by Linda Hasselstrom at the public library. The library also will provide lunch. All of this is paid for by a grant so I get a free lunch and a great lecture!

Changing

Monday morning and up comes my head for a bit of blogging. My energy has been directed elsewhere--like my morning pages. I've been kinda under the weather for a week--no get up and go, just blah--so what energy I do have has been parceled out carefully. I've been on Facebook much more than here, and even tweeting a bit.

Julia Cameron says in The Artist's Way that your truth will reveal itself in your morning pages. Mine is coming out loud and clear. So I'm experimenting with changing a few things that really are not bloggable, but that I seem to write about each and every day in the morning pages! These are good things, I think. But if nothing else, a huge change in my daily routine.

I got up early this am for no reason except that I couldn't sleep past 0230. I had my coffee, wrote, ate some of my homemade bread toasted with a bit of jam, and listened to the birds sing at dawn. I felt like I was on vacation, strangely blissful. I even saw one of the Dippers (Big, Little? Not sure) in the western sky. Easy to say one's prayers on mornings like this.

During the last week I read a book with the improbable title Crazy Woman Creek. It is an anthology of women's stories about community--how to find it in different circumstances, when it works, when it doesn't. The anthologies came from women who live in the West, although one of the stories was penned by a woman living in the very midwestern town of Warrensburg, MO, where I went to college. Two of the editors were involved in a discussion of the work at our local library. Although all 17 copies of the book were checked out, which forced me to buy it to get it read, only three women showed up. We already knew each other from DIA, which was interesting! This book was compelling, very difficult to put down and wonderful to discuss (glad I bought it!). Linda Hasselstrom, one of the editors, is hosting a lunchtime lecture on Wednesday which I will attend.

I cancelled the composition class I had signed up to take online--but that was done in order to take another class which is longer, more comprehensive, and more valuable I think for what I need. That won't start until June 11th. In the meantime, I checked Stephen King's On Writing out of the library and will begin to read that today.

Time to take a walk while it still is cool. The temperature is supposed to reach a high of 88 today!

Snow and Writing

Yes, Jan and others, the snow is melting. I'm glad because snow becomes so gray and dirty after sitting around for a few days and taking on the car exhaust. The streets were utterly clear yesterday. Our driveway still is rather crowded with snow but one car at a time can snake through the walls of snow on either side.

Tomorrow we expect 3-5 more inches.

Meanwhile I've been writing a lot. The Artist's Way has helped me to open the door that has been closed for so long. Since I started the morning pages I've written approximately 80 pages. I've also had poems and essays come to me. What I am finding is that when I hear the voices in my head that I used to ruminate on then dismiss, I'm writing down the words I hear. This is exhilarating and a bit scary. That's ok.

My best friend in high school, an Episcopal priest in the southeast US, called me yesterday. We haven't talked for close to three years for various reasons--like losing each other's phone numbers during our frequent moves (we both move approximately every three years). She was stunned to learn that I haven't written, really written, in over thirty years. The young woman she knew so well always had paper in her purse or somewhere on her person to scribble thoughts, events, quick poems. That young woman turned out stories and poems by the dozen and reached for a pen instead of something else whenever something horrible or wonderful happened. My friend just assumed that I had kept that up. She said, "That is who you are!"

You know, I've quit denying that she is correct. I made the mistake years ago of devoting myself totally to work instead of allowing myself to continue to make art. I confused making a living with making a life. I never considered that one could do both. That was easy to do in the blue collar town in which I was raised; art was for those "better than we are." I put aside the pen and paper and got to what was known as real work. I've been a person consumed with "if only" and "what if" ever since. What a waste of energy and of gift.

I am going to make some changes. It is not too late to devote myself to the gift God gave me before I was born. A month ago, I was content to grouse about work and my life but do nothing to rectify it. My goal is to "live divided no more" as Parker Palmer says. I am so grateful to the One who created me and all else for allowing this opportunity and for giving me the gift of my life.

All I needed to do was seize it.

Saturday, Before Another Blizzard

We have another blizzard on the way. It isn't a huge problem for Taciturn and me, but please pray for our brothers and sisters in North Dakota who frantically attempt to stave off the fury of Mother Nature's flooding. They are supposed to get some snow as well.

I went back to work Wednesday afternoon. It wasn't really busy but I had a nursing student with me so I had to teach as I worked. I was able to leave on time and get to bed at a reasonable hour for the evening shift--0030 Thursday morning. Yet, it has taken me two days to recover from eight hours of work. You can tell I have not worked or done much else for a while.

The discipline I'm attempting to develop of writing first thing in the am remains. I had to get up earlier than I would have liked Thursday morning in order to see my neurologist for the myasthenia gravis like symptoms I have, but I did take the time to do my morning pages. Life is getting into a rhythm; get up, get a cup of coffee, go back up to my bedroom to sit in the rocker and write, then I pray. After that it is time for breakfast and all else. I like this rhythm. I usually wake up with my head full of things to write so that is why I write first before I pray, so I won't lose it. Sometimes I cannot write fast enough!

A huge insight came to me Thursday morning while I wrote about the resentment some of the undereducated women at work have toward those of us who were able to and did the hard work of earning a degree (that came from writing about the nursing student--she has a really hard life but she still pursues a degree). Then I realized that I am guilty of the same thing in another discipline. Interesting how things can get worked out, or you see things as you write that never would have entered your head otherwise. As I sit and type now, I am smiling and shaking my head. Once I gave myself permission to write, all kinds of stuff is pouring out in torrents.

Ruth has an interesting post today about how we as adults no longer feel we can do the creative things we did as children. Those things come under the heading of "Time Wasters." It is fascinating to read the unfolding of her process as she journeys with The Artist's Way. I'm almost as excited about her journey as the one that I'm starting to undertake. I bought my own copy of The Artist's Way and will start it tomorrow.

The leftover main patch of blisters from my shingles has developed into impetigo from my scratching. Taciturn warned me about scratching those while he rubbed Bactriban cream on them after my shower this am. They are just right of center on my upper back; while I can reach them to scratch, I can't reach them to rub lotion or cream on them!

We are going to go to a home show a bit later this am, have a bit of lunch then stock up at the grocery store. We haven't been on a full grocery trip for 3 weeks, and the larder is getting bare! I have pizza dough rising at present for Saturday night pizza. I made my own sauce a couple of weeks ago and I'll get it out of the freezer to thaw shortly.

Tomorrow afternoon that blizzard is supposed to roll in. I'm sure I'll have another episode of blizzard baking. That's ok. Life is getting pretty good right now. And the scent of fresh bread baking makes it even better!

Coming Back Up

My shingles pain is suddenly much more manageable. I slept all night long. I did not awaken in pain to feel my way into the bathroom for codeine. And-- I just finished my first workout in almost three weeks! Mind you, I walked only half of the time and distance of my usual workout, but that isn't the point. The point is that I got on the treadmill and walked at all! (For those of you who know Weight Watcher activity points, I earned 2. Grin.)

My doctor's excuse covers tonight and tomorrow night at work. I'm glad--I'm still not anxious to go back, and they easily found someone to take my place. I'm not scheduled again until Wednesday afternoon. But, I think if I had been forced somehow into going in, I could have done it.

My friend PB dragged me out yesterday to eat sushi. I felt yucky yesterday morning and would have not gone out, but she said, "You have to eat, don't you?" It took sushi, something I always will have in my life somehow, to get me out of the door. Once out, I began to bloom. Yesterday afternoon, I realized that I felt like a well person feels, as opposed to an ill person. I have my friend to thank for getting me to that point.

Today is a marvelous day to feel well! The sun is shining, it is warm with a breeze, my windows are open, and the birds are singing. I will take the library book I picked up yesterday out onto the deck with a nice glass of wine later to read. I'm doubly glad that I don't have to shut everything up to nap in preparation for work.

Truly this is one of those days that deserve the carpe diem motto. Especially since all good things must come to an end--there is a blizzard watch in effect. The weather prognosticators say that we could get a foot or more of snow on Monday and Tuesday. Ah well, it is March, the time of the spring blizzards.

Time to go to the library for another book. I bet I'll have plenty of time to read. The book I plan to get I've had on hold for a while; The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, which is highly recommended by Ruth. It came in yesterday after I'd already been there.

By the way, I have continued all week with my pledge to put pen to paper each day. Yesterday I sat down thinking, "I have nothing to write about," then wrote four pages. Once I gave myself permission to do this, it has gotten much easier. And Taciturn, bless him, is beginning to recognize my need for the space in which to do this. If I respect the process, I believe he will as well.

Journaling

I actually sat down and wrote FOUR (yes, four) pages in my previously untouched journal this afternoon.

Thanks to Ruth and to Diane. Ruth for mentioning on several occasions The Artist's Way, which I need to take but urges the discipline of writing three pages a day to get into the habit of daily writing (from what I understand). Thanks to Diane for turning me onto Bill Holm. Today I simply could not hold back and wrote and wrote, then put the journal down and picked it up again, just to write more.

You have no idea how huge this is. I've not written anywhere except on this blog, which is edited for an audience, for three years. I journaled daily when I took a seminary class taught by Kathy Staudt called Spiritual Writing. I took my journal with me everywhere and wrote about lots of stuff, including a day spent at the VA hospital in Washington DC and the bus ride to get there. Also, during that time, I wrote a short story about a situation that the military put several of us in that was not complementary of the supposedly supportive military "that takes care of its own." My story's response was BULLSHIT! We took care of each other and forgot the military.

At the end of the class, though, T came home from his deployment in support of GWB's War on Terror and the writing stopped.

Hmmm.

Of course as soon as I sat down to write, T came downstairs and started talking to me. He'd been napping for an hour. I still got out 4 pages. I have to make the decision that I will not let him distract me, and set limits. I had to do that during the year I was in seminary and will have to do that now.

Hang with me, brothers and sisters.