Twelve Blog Posts of Andrea (#4)

mind-ful-ness

How many of you hear the word mindfulness then check out?  I used to.  The word conjured up images of people with a whole lot more self-control and a longer attention span than I could ever muster.  Just hearing the word made me tired. My shoulders would slump a little because deep down mindfulness seemed like one more thing I could try that would be good for me but impossible to maintain. Imagining failure before you even start can have a what’s-the-point effect on you. Despite the rave reviews, personal testimonies and millennia of evidence touting the benefits of practicing mindfulness, I did not think it was something I could start and sustain. I bet after reading that you’re now thinking about the thoughts you’ve had about mindfulness, what the term calls to mind for you, how it makes you feel.  Guess what!  That’s mindfulness.  

1. the quality or state of being conscious or aware of something.

2. a mental state achieved by focusing one's awareness on the present moment, while calmly acknowledging and accepting one's feelings, thoughts, and bodily sensations, used as a therapeutic technique.

That little graphic above helped me to think of mindfulness in its most basic terms. Thinking about it as being present with my body helped me to determine what this quality or state looks like in my day-to-day and has allowed me to craft and adopt practices which work for ME. I spend time each day simply sitting in silence and solitude.  I daydream. I let my mind wander then try to recall what thoughts came floating by.  I breathe, and pay attention to what I am feeling in key parts of my body. I sip coffee and pay attention to the smell and taste. I stretch. I close my eyes and listen to the space I am in.  I do one thing at a time. I actively slow down and tell myself to do so, over and over, until I am fully aware and engaged in whatever it is I am doing- watering my plants, washing dishes, eating, praying. And the benefits of these practices and others are more calm, more control, more clarity. I have been experiencing a stronger mind-body-heart-soul connection.  This translates into greater connection to God, myself and others. Being more mindful means I can better love all three.  I cannot explain the difference, but I can surely feel the difference. 

Mindfulness is simply living your life wide awake, at a pace that allows you to experience it fully, even the most mundane parts.  If your interest has been piqued, spend a few moments thinking of how mindfulness might look in your life, what ways of practicing it would feel natural to you, and where can you start small today.   

Twelve Blog Posts of Andrea (#2 & #3)

(TWO)

Artists say, “Let me draw something that might help our understanding, help us change or wake up, be inspired to awe or kindness."

Anne Lamott, Almost Everything

Writers Say

Let me write something that might help us walk in each others’ shoes,

be inspired to love and 

to be better for one another

to be less afraid and more curious about 

our one, fine, glorious life.  

Let me write something which might help us wake up, 

help us see what we could not have seen otherwise. 

Let me write something which will add light 

and life 

and laughter.  

Let me write something to unburden our souls.

Let me write something that shows us another way to walk each other home.

-A Writer's Prayer

(THREE)

Passing by a space recently, I saw several signs with sentiments about being kind- choose kindness; if you can be anything, be kind; kindness matters; kind people are my kind of people. Being described as kind, in my humble opinion, is one of the highest honors one could pay to another person. Reading those artsy, to-the-point signs made me think:

1. Are these declarations, directions or decorations? Is this person kind?

2. Who gets to decide who and what is kind?  

3. What if one’s idea of “kindness” is very different from those around them? What if you describe yourself as kind, but others do not? (Not because you do not have other great qualities but simply because kindness is not the one they immediately think of to describe you.)  

4. Do we think of kindness as big deliberate acts mostly? Acts like donating to charities, giving food to a person without a home, taking in a stray animal, serving at a food pantry.  

5. Do we miss opportunities to be kind on our way to do some big act of kindness? I witness this daily in myself and others. We do not acknowledge the person walking by six feet away from us. Yet ,we share about our whole day with the barista at our favorite coffee shop. We step over rather than pick up trash. Yet we donate large bags of used clothing to charity. We don’t listen completely when a coworker or child speaks. Yet we answer our friend’s call and talk for hours. We turn the other way when we spot someone we recognize at the grocery store. Yet we visit our grandparents every weekend. We hurry our children. Yet we wait patiently for our friends who said they would be dropping by. We ignore our partners. Yet we respond immediately to our boss’ requests to work a little extra. We assume ill-intent  and rattle off discontent when we receive correspondence from corporate entities. Yet we assure the cashier who overcharged us and gave the incorrect change that we get it, they’ve had a long, hard day.

6. How does this person show kindness in their daily life? Could these displays be reminders of a quality this person wants to grow in? I put reminders all around me when I am working on specific aspects of my character or working to improve in some area of my life. Maybe the occupant of this workspace is doing something similar.

Those signs got me thinking, reflecting and asking, “Am I the kind of person who others would describe as kind?”. Maybe that’s why the signs are posted- for us passersby.

-Andrea

Twelve Blog Posts of Andrea (#1)

(ONE)
My one writing goal for 2020 is to publish on this blog once per month.  Today is the last day of the first month of the new year.  Better late than never is what they say. 

Actually my goal is to be the kind of person who writes for other people, not just for myself, this year.  I do not have a desire to publish a book, to write professionally or even to be known as such.  I do want to be the kind of writer who writes everyday, who uses her writing to make a mark in her world, who writes for posterity and to sort out what I know to be true and what I am still learning.  I do writerly things like capture my thoughts and reactions to the world.  I put my bum in a chair, and I make myself write.  I keep a notebook and have the notes app on my phone organized so that I can quickly and easily find the writing ideas I collect as I live.  Yet, I show up here, and I am without anything meaningful to share with you.  I try to be a woman of my word.  I am just going to write until something worthwhile comes out.  Writing is that way.  If you stay with it long enough, something usually materializes. 

I cannot figure out what's going on with me lately when it comes to writing for myself in way that allows me to have something to share with the world.  The hypocrisy of the thing is that we ask students to do it every.single.day.  This is how I came to write for this blog.  I wanted to be a real teacher of writing by living the life I asked my students to live in the classroom.  At least once per marking period, we require them to share some narrative, essay or poetry with the world.  We ask them to write with feeling and thoughtfulness.  We ask them to open up their hearts or their minds and let the rest of us look inside.  And you know what, most of the time, the kids find something meaningful to share.  So what's my problem.  I've got lots of stories.  I know this is true because I talk my husband's ear off sometimes sharing them.  I have many, many opinions about many, many topics.  Name a topic.  I am certain I have a thought or at the very least a question.  For example, while watching a movie or television I have to literally remind myself to stay focused on the task at hand because my curiosity will get piqued by something a character mentions then I am off running down the Google rabbit-hole asking questions and seeking answers...

This is as far as I got on 1/31/20.  In six short weeks later, the bottom fell out of 2020, and so did my goal of publishing 12 blog posts. It is now December 26, and I've got five days to fulfill my goal.  "Why, given the year we have had?" Because I said I would.  Here's to (ONE) down.  Only eleven to go.

-Andrea

Attitude of Gratitude

I recently read an article about the effects of having a grateful attitude.  It was an article about scientifically proven benefits of gratitude. Apparently it improves not only our emotional health but also our physical health. A few things mentioned were it makes us happier, improves our moods, increases our resilience, improves our self-esteem.  It also can improve sleep, helps reduce pain, strengthens our immune system, and lowers stress. These are only a few of the things the article mentioned as positive effects of a grateful attitude. At times it tends to be a little difficult to see the sunny side up. Especially when many things get thrown at you during the day and you get bogged down with all the to-do’s and the don’t do’s and the don’t have time to do’s.  So how can we have an attitude of gratitude? I think you have to make it a habit. Like we have to make working out a habit, or eating healthy a habit. And for anything to become a habit we must do them for an extended period of time. We must practice it every day. It might be as simple as being grateful for a cup of coffee or tea in your hand, or the wonderful feeling of fur between your fingers as you scratch your little Fido’s face.  I believe the things or people or moments that bring the biggest joy are the little ones that sometimes might go unnoticed. I challenge you to join me in a month of jotting down a few things you are grateful for each day. I have a journal specifically for this task, because I tend to jump at any opportunity to buy a new journal, and I may or may not have bought some new pens for this month of gratitude. Whether it is in a journal, or in your planner, or a notecard.  And whether you jot down your gratitudes at the end of a long day, the beginning of a new day, or somewhere in between, let’s do it. And then let me know how you feel at the end of the month.  

Here is a list to start my attitude of gratitude:

• Skinny Vanilla lattes
• The first sip of coffee in the morning
• Writer’s group and kindred spirits
• The freshness of a new day with new possibilities
• My 95 year old grandmother’s young spirit
• My mother continuing to mother me even after I am a mother of my own.
• My daughter’s kind heart
• My son’s sincere and reflective mind
• Reminders on my phone because I have a million and one things on my mind at all times
• My silky pillow after a long day
• Music, any, all kinds
• Giggles during pedicures (not mine but my daughter’s)
• The determination on my son’s face before the snap of the football
• Friends who are family
• Pink dresses and strappy heels
• Walking into church on Sunday morning
• Walking out of church filled with peace on Sunday morning
• Curling up with my fuzzy blanket to watch a movie or read a good book
• The smell of the library
• My grandma’s house, and the stories it holds
• That I am exhausted at the end of the day because it means I tried my best. I gave all I had.
• That I carry hope within me so that even on the darkest of days, I still feel the sun’s rays even when I can’t see them. 

Learning to Read the Signs

By: Susan

My first baby stopped breastfeeding one night when she was ten months old. She was hungry but would not take the breast no matter what I did. Her doctor said she was done. She was ready for other forms of nourishment. For me, the emotional pain was just as bad as the physical one. I felt she didn't need me anymore. Twenty nine years of parenting has taught me that my children will always need me, but in different ways. The trick has been to read the signs when a shift is coming. Weeks prior to that night when Miranda stopped breastfeeding, she had acted distracted and irritable. I had to put her in all kinds of weird positions to feed. But I was too inexperienced to see those as signs that she was losing interest in me as her sole source of food. As hard as that moment was, it was inevitable. Insisting on continuing to feed her from my body, would have just led to more irritation and confusion.

There are other stages in the eternal parent-child relationship that require a shift in the dynamics. When the toddler asks for independence by insisting on "my do it", when a pre-schooler decides to wear rubber boots, suspenders and knee socks pulled over the knee EVERYWHERE, or when there is a dresses only phase - all signs point to a desire for independence and autonomy. The wisest of parents know to pick their battles, allow for choice as long as it is not harmful or disrespectful to others and basically stop doing what the child can do for himself.

I think the most delicate phase is much later, when our children are fully grown adults and we continue to treat them as children, doubting that we have taught them anything at all, needing to be reassured that they still need us. I continue to stumble on that one. I underestimate their intelligence and competence and point out the obvious or give directions when none is needed. But thank goodness they are forgiving.

The most valuable insight so far has been that every child, no matter the age wants to be listened to and heard. That's what any of us really wants. Often, they are not even looking for an answer or a solution, but for the simple experience of being seen and heard as a full being. It seems such a simple thing but accomplishing it requires selflessness, humility and the ability to be present.

No one needs me to feed or clothe them these days. They have all grown up to be independent, productive human beings. But they still need me to listen to them, see them and perhaps ask a few questions that helps them arrive at an answer.

Sixth-Grade Graduation

One of the things we (our Writers' Group) try to do at every meeting is to have some kind of writing exercise to stretch ourselves a little. A few months ago our task was to re-create a piece of writing in a different format. Years ago I wrote down some memories about my 6th grade graduation ceremony, something like this:


At some point in my sixth-grade year, my parents divorced. In some ways, this wasn't a big change because my mother had almost always worked a full-time job outside the home and handled all of the domestic chores. My father was not a very active parent. In any case, Mom continued to work hard all day and come home to continue working. As the end of my school year approached, she decided to make a special dress for me to wear to the end-of-year "graduation" ceremony: we sixth-graders would be leaving elementary school and moving on to junior high school.

So for a while Mom's evenings included not only housework and cooking, but also making this dress for me. I remember it vividly: it was no ordinary dress. It was a sheath dress made of snow-white fabric, onto which she stitched rows and rows of lace trim. The lace trim had an inset into which she threaded red satin ribbon. There were hours and hours of delicate handwork and love in that dress.

On the morning of the ceremony, I was allowed to wear pantyhose, I think for the first time ever! While that is not at all thrilling to me now, it was then. I felt so grown-up and sophisticated in my pantyhose and this beautiful, fancy dress Mom had spent so many hours crafting for me.  Mom left as usual to go to work as my sister and I prepared to leave for school.

For some reason I no longer remember, I decided to ride my bike to school - something I had never done before. I have a vague recollection of being persuaded to do it by a friend, but the details have been long forgotten. In any case, I did ride my bike to school, white party dress, pantyhose, and all. If you know me, you will not be surprised to hear that on the way to school I crashed my bike. Bike wrecks leave their mark: my pantyhose were shredded and my snowy white dress was no longer snowy white. It was now marred with grass stains and smears of bicycle chain oil.

I walked across the stage at school in that stained dress and ripped hose. The embarrassment I felt competed with my guilt to fill my emotions. What should have been a happy day was ruined, and my mother's sacrifice seemed ruined as well.

I don't remember Mom's anger and disappointment, although I am sure she felt those feelings. How could she not?

I do, however, remember her forgiveness and her love.



At the Writers' Group meeting I mentioned above, I took the challenge of changing this memoir into a poem:


Sixth-Grade Graduation

Hours of work
Of care
Of love
After days already full;
Tired hands
Tired eyes
Tired mind.

Yards and yards of white lace
Scarlet ribbon winding through
Fine stitches
Create a white dress
Fit for a princess.

Careless girl
Cycles
Swerves
Crashes
Picks up and
Continues on.

Heartbroken girl
In lovely white dress
Scarlet ribbon threaded
Through yards and yards
Of white lace

With tire marks
Grass and mud stains
And jagged tears
For all to see.

The infinite love of a mother
Forgives.

The Writing For Our Lives Challenge by Andrea

      This blog is called Writing Four Lives for we four women, four friends, four writers writing about our four lives.  The title should also bring to mind the thought that we write for our lives- writing as if our very lives depend on it.  Since our inception as a group in 2010, each month we've tried many practices, habits, and methods to support and encourage one another in staying committed to the craft.  We read about being writers.  We give ourselves writing assignments while together.  We established a blog to keep us honest, to give us an authentic audience beyond each other, to hold ourselves accountable. We created a calendar to help each take a turn posting. When half of us published more faithfully than the other half, we upped the ante, used the acronym ACES (our first initials) as a way to hold each member responsible for staying the course and being committed to writing for and about her life.
   
      One post per person once every four weeks. This seemed foolproof.  It is the most and the least we should be able to do to support our commitment to being writing teachers who write, to be writers who actually produce content for readers.  Yet, if you do the calendar math on our blog posts just over the last four months, you'll quickly see that we have fallen short and far from this simple goal. We know better.  We are writing teachers.  We are students of the craft of writing. We would never allow our students to get out of the habit of writing to say something to someone or for someone.  Words matter.  We have things to say. What should one do when you've fallen off the proverbial wagon?

     Well, if you're writers, you pick up your pen or laptop, dust them off and begin again.  To help us do just that, I have created a challenge for our Writers' Group and anyone else who needs to climb back into the saddle and move their writing life forward.

Writing For Our Lives Challenge

Objective:
To refine a daily habit of collecting our thoughts, wonderings, recollections, and responses to our lives.

The Set-up:
Fifteen days of writing for 15 minutes each day.  Challenge will begin on August 1, ending at 11:59 pm on August 15.

Rules of Engagement:
1. Accepting this challenge means no opting out and no excuses. If by some unimaginable chance you miss a day, you must start over at one.

2. Plan how, when, and where you'll get your writing time in. You must get it in before you lay your head down at night.

3. Write until the time is up.  Writing Workshop is a time, not a task.  It is time to live and do the work of writers.  The timer tells us when we are finished for the day!

4. Upload an image on Instagram and/or post a line or two from your writing on our Facebook group each day as a measure of accountability and encouragement to the group.  Be sure to tag the other three writers!  Yes, that's three tags per day plus your own.  It's probably better than the other junk you could get tagged in on any given day!

Use the hashtags: 

    #IAmWriting4Lives  #15x15Writing  #DailyWritingRituals

This challenge is not limited to the writers of this blog.  If you need to restart your writing game, join us!  

______________________________________________________

Strategies for Tackling the Blank Page
Strategies are better than prompts because you can use them anytime, anywhere and not write about the same idea or in the same way twice.

• Put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and just start writing what is on your mind, even if those words begin with, "I don't know what to write..." Then do not stop writing/typing until fifteen minutes are over.
• Take a look around where you are right now until something catches your eyes and sparks a memory, somewhere for you to start writing from.
• Let a piece of literature inspire a start on the blank page.  What thoughts did your reading evoke? What memories or reactions came conjuring up?  Start there.
• Writing off of a word as a strategy to get yourself started.  Choose any word, write it at the top of your page then write whatever comes.
• Storytelling is a great strategy for getting yourself unstuck.  Think of the last story you just told, a story from today or a story you tell all the time.  Take a moment to tell the story aloud if needed, then write.
• Snatches of conversation:  Somewhere with other people?  Listen in on their conversations and use what you overhear to jumpstart your writing.
• Take a few minutes to reread other writing you've done to find inspiration- something you want to say more about, something you think differently about now
• Sometimes writers write about people, places, events and ideas that are important to them.  Create a list, visual diagram, pictures, etc of any of these.  Choose one to write as much as you can, as well as you can before the timer goes off.