Celebrating America ~ With Eyes and Ears Open

Art by Kinuko Craft, from "Starts & Stripes"

Art by Kinuko Craft, from “Stars & Stripes”

(Note: I realized when I finished writing that this is a bit of a rant. Not a full-on, seething kind of rant; more a tempered one. Regardless, you’ve been warned, so bear with me  ~ or not!)

I love my country. It’s home. Much of it is stunningly beautiful. It represents freedom, liberty, and opportunity; and comes with an intense desire to better oneself, to help others lift themselves up, to lend a hand when needed. We’re hard-workers with a fierce independent streak. (We’ve also got, in my opinion, the world’s best plumbing. Not to be sneered at!)

Sure, I may stray to my British and Scottish roots now and then, via my ridiculous love for tea or my way of slipping in and out of accents, or appreciating a certain dry humour (see? oops, that would be humor). I sometimes long for the large, open piazza’s found in European cities, and the marvel of living alongside history reaching back thousands of years instead of hundreds. Still, I’m glad to call America home. We’ve made our share of mistakes, but we are a good and generous people born from all around the world.

So I celebrate the 4th of July with pride and gladness. It is, to me, the land of the free and the home of the brave.

But I am worried for us. Maybe it’s always been so ~ the way each generation worries about its youth ~ to be concerned about where the country is headed. Maybe it’s because news outlets and social media make everything so much more “in your face”; things we might have been oblivious to before. But maybe it’s valid to worry. There’s an awful lot on the table.

I have felt, for quite some time, a greater and greater divide growing amongst us ~ a divide which is proliferated by the media and polished off by our politicians (or maybe it’s the other way around). I find it extremely disturbing. It’s us or them, left or right, right or wrong, with each side cock sure of their stance. It becomes Righteous. Zealous. Fearful. Even Hateful.

These are highly charged times, igniting harsh debate – debates that are often shot down before they begin, because folks are so convinced of this or that, which of course doesn’t encourage intelligent conversation but instead shoves ideas aside where they stew with electric-like fervor.

I keep pretty mum on this kind of topic unless with trusted friends, and will most likely revert to that after this post. (This blog is a no-politics zone. Even this may too much!) But I will say that I feel we’re being manipulated on a grand scale. Before you shake your head yes, or even no, let’s remember we really don’t know – and if it’s true, we don’t know by whom or for what. We have our theories, we have bits and pieces of a massive puzzle, but I’m telling you this; it has not felt right ~ at all ~ and continues to feel worse. I’ll also say that ignorance can be bliss! But I worry that that bliss could find us in a place no one fathomed if we don’t pay attention.

I’m not talking about the emotional hot buttons that are used with increasingly rampancy as tools of persuasion, or to get votes or that turn you against your neighbor or family member who may feel otherwise. I’m not talking about who has what material thing when someone else does not. I’m talking about the grander element of personal freedom, and aspirations, and achieving greatness of your own accord in a country governed by leaders with principles who want to see you ~ and all of us as a whole ~ succeed, who will keep the roads and bridges in shape, and will fight with conviction and courage to uphold our freedoms.

So, with that larger picture in mind, this means reading articles from all points of view. Listening to opinions from all points of view. Watching news from all points of view. And it means you read, you listen and you watch, directly. Dig a little. Don’t base what “you hear” on what others say “they heard”. It’s all too easy. It’s all too convenient. It’s all too messy. And we’re all too busy being distracted by a million things, some worthy, some truly not at all.

This isn’t about specifics right here. I just ask that we be present and use our own fine brains. It can be a little tricky, because there’s “power in numbers” but there’s also “crowd mentality” where others are thinking for you. So I say, don’t be a voice in a chorus of voices unless you’ve done your due diligence. If you care about your freedom, as I care about mine; if you love this country, flaws and all, for all its glory, for all its beauty, for all its people; for all our hopes and dreams, for our children’s hopes and dreams ~ you will pay attention. Don’t let the magnificence that is the United States – that place you call home, that place that let’s you speak your mind and stand up for what you believe in and walk in protest and that sends every child to school and has kept us safe from harm ~ don’t let it slip away or be whisked or whittled away right in front of our eyes. Don’t submit to letting someone else make your decisions, or tell you that you can’t succeed without them or that someone knows what’s best for your child or what you can eat or not eat. Don’t even go there.

We are not the sins of our fathers, any more than Italians are all plundering Julius Caeser’s. We have lived and learned, and will keep on doing so. And right here and now is where we go from. Yes, there’s a co-mingling of deception, evasion and truth and it’s hard to take it all in, much less figure it out. And it’s all moving fast. This is the world of 10-minutes-ago being yesterday’s news. But yesterday’s news can have ramifications that last much, much longer. Pay attention!

Split or no split, division or no division, we’re still all in this together. And I believe that at the end of the day we all want basically the same freedom, liberty and justice for all. Please don’t fall asleep at the reality-show, America. Celebrate our birthday with joy and fireworks and commitment. If you think we should be like some other country, you can live there. If you live here and like it here, we may just have to fight to keep it strong.

p.s.: One thing that has kept me from falling into complete dread, came from watching the movie “Lincoln”. I was amazed at the contentious fighting, back-stabbing, hateful and divisive rhetoric between parties. Then again, we were in the middle of a civil war. And maybe those in positions of leadership have always been and will always be angry, aggressive and self-serving. Still, I’d rather pay attention than blindly follow. Maybe it’s just my genetic disposition (I am rather independently minded!) but I hope we’ll all keep our eyes and ears open.

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Outrageous Happiness #2: Super Powers

Seeing as the Outrageous Happiness Experiment has just kicked off, thought I’d check in with a quick update.

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As if on cue, life decided to throw some curve balls ~ or, because it’s not uncommon for life to do that, maybe I’m just aware of them in a slightly different way. That doesn’t make them any more fun, but now that I’m consciously armed with an unrelenting turn-lemons-into-lemonade approach, I’m thinking I might be handling them with less angst. And less angst = more happy.

And yet, when staring down a sidetrack that clearly did not feed my happiness quotient, I almost went off course. I felt somehow responsible, put myself down, and got a little stuck there. But I rallied. It was yet another lesson learned (gotta love those lessons…) In fact, just this morning, I felt my super powers kicking in. (You have them too. It’s where you’re strongest, and truest. You’re lifted up.)

Here’s the thing though, before they kicked in, I sat down and had a serious conversation with the Universe. And I made sure to not just talk, but listen.

You might talk to God, you might talk to Divine Intelligence, or to your Higher Self, your Spirit Guides, your Mother or Father, sister or brother, a trusted friend. Guidance is available in many forms, and none of us, no matter how wise or experienced or content, is outside the realm of needing some now and then. In the process it’s key that you listen; you have to hear not only what you’re saying and thinking, but what you’re hearing in reply. Then listen to your heart and find what’s true. (And then, don your cape.)

How’s your Outrageous Happiness going?

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Outrageous Happiness

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Everybody’s doing it. Consciously or not ~ we’re all trying to be happy.

Joy. Delight. Contentment. Love, peace and harmony. It’s a basic urge, in varying degrees of intensity depending on our genetic makeup, manifesting in different ways, but it’s there. Elusive. Sneaky. Not completely reliable.

So, this is a test. I’m calling it the “Outrageous Happiness Experiment”.

It started after a friend gave me a book. (Ah, the power of the written word in action, yet again!) It’s the true and rather amazing account of the extraordinary life of Tracy Evans*, a physician’s assistant who decides to follow God wherever He leads; Tracy calls it “radical faith”.

Towards the end of this adventurous read, feeling both uplifted and somewhat inadequate, I had an inspiration; something I could apply to my own life: why not radical happiness? Kind of like positive thinking on steroids. Because at the root of positive thought lies a certain amount of faith, and trust, and hope. And if you know anything about me by now (whether you know me personally, or have read my posts for a while), it’s that I’m a staunch optimist and a huge, huge, believer in the power of thought to shape both ourselves and our world.

Being a staunch optimist doesn’t necessarily mean wearing rose-colored glasses – I readily admit to the stray string of curses when a driver cuts someone off, or the random rage about the digitally over-stimulated age we live in. I also confess that after watching half an hour of the news, the cynic in me comes roaring to the surface, feeling helplessly disturbed by the nature of the human beast ~ or more to the point, the ones that make headlines. Just the mention of it, my blood can start to boil – with nowhere to flow to.

So I go back, as I always must do, to what I can do in my world, and what each of us can do for our little corners of the planet, period. If everyone paid attention to honoring positive values by living them, what a better place the world would be. (Reminiscent of my 52 Weeks of Peace message.) In the face of the madness of the world at large, throwing bucket loads of good stuff at it seems the only sane route ~ not to mention, a pretty potent force.

So that’s where I go. I bring out the pen, the paper, or play a tune on the piano to bring the boiling blood back to normal temps. Tend some flowers. Slow down. Do something nice for a stranger. Practice what I preach. Watch my thoughts. Bend my mind to the sun, open my heart to light and more light.

And yet, even with the best of intentions, challenges to our happiness quotient, our “positive thinking” efforts and our spiritual well-being, can pop up like militant weeds after a spring rain, threatening to overrun our mind’s well-tended garden. The usual culprits like setbacks with money and health can hit you right between the eyes without an ounce of compassion. Just making air-travel plans these days can launch an onset of anxiety. And yep, other people, even (or especially) those we love, can take our mood on a quick virtual trip to an emotional amusement park ride.

No one said life would be easy.

It’s also curious, this life business. Just when you think you’ve got more character than you thought possible, along comes more character-building opportunity! …. And so it goes, and keeps on going, and we keep living and learning and growing and changing until our proverbial time is up.

And since I figure I have a long time before my number is called, I want to live it well! I also figure a lot of that is up to me. It suppose it could be in the stars. It might already be planned out, pre-destined. Heck, it could be luck of the draw. But on the chance I have some say in all this, I might as well take the reins in whatever way I feel I can.

So who’s in? For a year, I’m gonna give it my best shot, and invite you to do the same. I’m going to give my positive thinking practice a hefty dose of adrenalin, each and every morning. Supplements throughout the day as needed. The key here is going overboard. Crazy optimism. Being outrageously positive.

An aside: Just this morning I was put to the test. You know, kinda like when your happy place plummets from a 9 to a 2 in under a minute. I thought, oh the hell with it. Who am I kidding with this “Outrageous Happiness” idea. Isn’t it enough just managing daily life sometimes? How will I sustain a radical level of positivity?

Then I thought, well this is just perfect, isn’t it? Any time is perfect. And at any time we might trip up. It’s (of course) what we do with that stumble. The point isn’t to walk around with a smile plastered to your face or pretend bad things don’t happen, or that as a human being, you don’t have ups and downs and a whole array of complex emotions at any given time. The point is to observe, and find a point of light to move forward from.

Personally, this has been a very weird year so far. Lots of transition, some dramatic shifting going on. The best way I can sum it up is to say that at some points I feel absolutely certain I’m supposed to toss up my hands and say, “Okay Universe, have at it. Whatever it is you have planned for me here, I’ll try to get out of the way so you can do your wonderful thing.”

Can’t say I know how it’ll play out, but approaching it with a ridiculously happy intention seems like a good idea. It’ll be interesting to look back a year from now, and see where the experiment has led ~ or if it’s really not in my hands at all.

The world is a mess. What better time to shake things up with some unexpected happy? If you want to try an “outrageous happiness” commitment in your life, too, I’d love to have you join me. Let’s get this party started! How amazing can we be?!

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Stay tuned. Positive, possibly outrageous, updates to follow.

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* The book about Tracy Evans is called Outrageous Courage: What God Can Do with Raw Obedience and Radical Faith. Not a sugar-coated do-good story, but a page-turning real life account of adventure and unabashed zeal. She is truly an exceptional being.

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Flamingos on The Lawn  

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We woke to a flock of flamingos; their bright pink elegance gracing our lawn. The fact that they’re plastic did nothing to dampen our spirits. In fact, they’re quite tidy and don’t make much noise, so all in all, make for pretty good companions.

They came to mark a passage. It’s graduation season and the Saxton household is having its turn. Bitter and sweet, hopeful and reminiscent, a time when as a parent you just have to figure you did the best you could as your child prepares to leave childhood behind, to stray from the nest and walk a new path. The page turns, a new chapter starts, adventure awaits.

And so, like the flamingo, you hope their legs carry them well. That they’ll let their true colors shine, and brighten any landscape they cross. That they’ll know when to graze, know when to fly. That they mingle with right people in right places at right times. Make friends. Be safe. Be wise. Stand strong. And discover their own brave, shiny wings for their dreams to soar.

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Giraffe Socks

It’s a gray day. And I’m wearing gray. Top to bottom, inside and out. And I wonder, am I feeling gray? Why all the gray, Patsy?

I don’t know about you, but when life requires a little extra thought, when it calls for a dose of self-reflection, I tend to retreat to sort it through. And only then ~ after I’ve sorted enough to have a sensible conversation about whatever it is, or sorted enough to be receptive to what someone else might have to say – do I share it, if at all. It might have turned into a nugget of wisdom by then, or a revelation, or simply a re-telling of when such-and-such made me examine such-and-such. But I don’t wear stuff on my sleeve. Nothing against those who do – in fact, who knows, you might be better off! It’s just not my way.

So I see myself on this gray day, all in gray, feeling gray. Not gray as in “down in the dumps” gray ~ but gray as in “not black and white”, not crisp and clear. And I see that I’m feeling a bit edgy. Uncertain. And definitely a bit vulnerable. I’ve shared parts of myself recently that I didn’t expect to. Good people, and it’s all okay, but still, I feel more exposed than usual. It’s as if a little sign popped up that reads: “Check it out. Dip in the road. Proceed with caution.”.

So I’ve dressed to hide. To soften the edges. To soothe. To avoid creating static or “noise”. To seek balance. To retreat and sort. Gray is a good color for quiet observation.

Then I look down, and tucked under the cuff of my gray jeans, I see my giraffe socks. (Yes, don’t make fun, they’re quite cute, really.) And am glad I’ve also dressed to remind myself to keep it light, that “life’s too mysterious, don’t take it too serious” (which is really bad grammar, whoever made that up, but the point is well taken. 🙂 ).

And that is that. Have yourself a good day. I’m off to the gray horizon to ponder my vulnerability while chomping on the nearest Acacia tree.

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Earthly Pursuits

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Thank heavens there are people like my really smart nephew with a passion for math and statistics; for people who strive to climb Mt. Everest and people who want to be dentists or race-car drivers. I’d be awful at these things (among others) and quite frankly, am grateful someone else has these bases covered.

When you get right down to it, we’re all creative beings. We’re in a constant state of creation, our atoms and molecules and who knows what other sub-this-or-that particles in perpetual motion. What we do with all that varies, of course, from person to person, just as it varies from flower to flower, bird to bird, bug to little bug. Even a winter tree, barren and cold, is feverishly feeding its roots, growing beneath the ground; each tree uniquely carrying out its creative urge. So there’s all this activity going on, a momentum of endless, ever-evolving, ingenious energy, all the time, day and night, year after year.

Okay, I’ve tired myself out thinking about all that! But, hold on, the good news is I don’t need to go any deeper with it; even if I could, I don’t need to fathom the inner workings of this amazing swirl of life we’re part of. All I have to do is my part. And you, yours.

And more good news – we can choose what we want that part to be. And within those options ~ a whole giant vat of them ~ there’s a leaning, a desire, a knack for certain things more than others. And I would venture that those leanings show up unbidden, no matter where we live or under what circumstances ~ our inner callings will find a way to emerge, and they usually show up when we’re little kids. We arrive in this world pre-packaged with a personal set of affinities. And they never leave.

But then we travel life’s twisting roads, and for one reason or another, may un-do some of those natural tendencies. Some are fortunate to retain the connection, some get lost. Maybe it’s strife, maybe it’s what we think others think we should do; a million detours and distractions, a million at-the-time good reasons that lead one away from that core, that essence. But it’s still there ~ I’m certain of it ~ and it’s never too late (or too soon) to revitalize.

If you’re wondering what that calling is, or if you even have one, ask “what lights you up?” Then tap in and get on with it!

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Why I Write What I Write (And Other Pressing Questions)

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When invited by the gracious and gifted Sue Ann Gleason to participate in a “blog-hop” about writing, I jumped in with a “yes”. What could be more fun than writing about writing? (Some of you groan, but you others, you’ll know what I mean. There’s a certain satisfaction involved.)

In my enthusiasm, however, I neglected to see ~ right there in the first line of the invitation ~ that I’d also need to solicit other writers-with-blogs to do the same. (Thus the “hopping” aspect. Right!) But that got done, too, and I’m so pleased to welcome my fellow hoppers (and beautiful souls all, I have to say) at the end of this post ~ and I encourage you to check out their contributions in about a week!

Now, without further ado, my response to the four questions each of us have been asked to answer. Hope you enjoy.

What am I working on/writing?

I’m thinking this question ought to be what am I not working on/writing? But I’ll try not to break the rules right off the bat here, and answer the question as is. So here I go.

Having recently finished writing and illustrating my third children’s book, I assumed I’d re-engage with one of several unfinished pieces that got usurped by the onslaught of dragons inhabiting my world for a while ~ among them, in various stages of completion, a murder novel, a young adult novel, and a love story. But the truth is, I’ve been feeling a stronger pull back to my poetic roots. While I adore a good story, and it pains the Virgo in me to leave things undone, I truly must go where the spirit leads. That’s usually how it works for me. We’ll see then which takes the cake.

 

How does my work/writing differ from others of its genre?

True confession: When I was in high school, I realized I had a marketable skill. I could pretty much copy anybody’s handwriting. I’m not saying any more than that…  except how it relates to my answer of this question, which is that I’ve always taken pride in my ability to cross borders, so to speak.

I don’t really have one genre, but different voices for different purposes. Maybe it’s a kind of artistic cross-training. In my design work, for example, I don’t care if it’s dog food, swiss bank accounts or skateboards, I’ll “get it”; I aim to pull out the expressive essence of each. With painting and illustration, I have a few different styles. If we’re talking about writing, I guess I’d like to think I write with a kind of colorful intelligence (that phrase just came to me – what do you think?), whether it’s a marketing piece, a short story, a poem.

So I don’t know that this makes me different from others, but it’s the best answer I can think of for now ~ simply being able to play different parts.

 

Why do I write what I do?

I write because to write is to breathe. To write is to untangle my thoughts, weave them into something more lovely and meaningful. And then there are all those fabulous words, and the countless, magnificent ways to arrange them! Writing is endless possibility, and thoughtful communication, and I probably write because I’m genetically wired to adore the play and value of the written word.

There are few things I “have” to do, but along with art, writing is one of them. Bottom line, there’s really no choice in the matter. :  )

On a less fanciful note, I also write some things because I get paid to do so. The more busines-oriented pieces might not be suitably prone to prose or heart-speak, but I enjoy them nonetheless because of that DNA thing, and because they still have to do with the magic of combining all sorts of marvelous words.

 

How does my writing process work?

Get comfortable. Pause. Let it rip. Stare at page. Re-read. Let it rip some more. Flow, flow, flow. Try not to do too much self-correction; just get it out. Then……….. edit, edit, edit. (Note: the entire process is usually infused with much tea-drinking).

Sometimes I write with a pen, more often with a keyboard. I also tend to use whatever’s handy when ideas strike ~ could be a paper towel, a page in my daytimer, the inside of matchbook, a grocery receipt or yes, even the palm of my hand. (Of course, when the hand-scribbling happens people usually look at me with a ‘what, are you still, like, 3-years-old?’ kind of look. Some actually say it out loud.)

Probably the most important part of the process, though, is loving it. Enjoying it. And going with it.

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And now, my talented blog mates:

sueann.gleason

Sue Ann Gleason, creator of Chocolate for Breakfast, the Well-Nourished Woman, and the Luscious Legacy Project, is a lover of words, a strong believer in the power of imagination, and a champion for women who want to lead a more delicious, fully expressed life. Sue Ann has been featured in Oprah and Runner’s World magazines and numerous online publications. When not working with private clients or delivering online programs, she can be found sampling exotic chocolates, building broccoli forests in her mashed potatoes, or crawling into bed with freshly sharpened pencils and pages that turn.

You can connect with Sue Ann (multi-passionate maven) in a number of places. Delicious freebies await you!  joyful eating | nourished living | wise business | facebook

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bernadette

Bernadette Smith is the resident muse of MuseFusions. A writer and artist, she makes marks on paper with words and paint. Strives to be messy and playful. Casts all “shoulds” to the wind. Surrounds herself with artful and literary eye candy. Finds courage in embracing her vulnerability publicly. And, when she makes a real mess, she upcycles, repurposes and takes recreation in her re-creation.Her fidgety fascination with the power of words to heal birthed Enlightened Ink and published “Bernadette’s Pages: An Intimate Crossroad,” a book that journeys through the “I do but he doesn’t” time in her marriage. (Because life’s messy moments are invitations to love.) Bernadette also spends time in people’s homes and closets. (No, she’s not a voyeur or stalker.) She offers a holistic blend of Feng Shui, de-cluttering and organizing through her company, Enlightened Interiors.

You’ll find her blogging at Musings from the Messy Room and sharing messy gems on her Facebook page.

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ella.B

My name is Ella and I am an artist, a single mom of 2 amazing kids, and a survivor of domestic violence. I started the Rebel Thriver Blog as a way to connect to others and share my story. Being labeled a survivor wasn’t comfortable for me; I needed more. And I desperately wanted others to see that they could have it too…that you can choose to thrive in spite of your situation. Facebook followed and has allowed Rebel Thriver to grow into an online community. The support, love, honesty, and inspiration is alive in abundance on our page.

We only get one chance at this sweet life, so I encourage everyone to wake up and live. You may have been knocked down, but that story does not have to define you, for you hold the pen to the story of your life. Raise your eyes to the sky, throw your shoulders back, put on your imaginary crown and say, “Today is the first day of the rest of my life”.  Make it count.

Love, Ella
(p.s.: you can also follow Ella at her Rebel Thriver Twitter page.)
To read Ella’s post on writing is click here.

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Irish born, but with South Africa in her heart and soul, Fiona Dunphy has recently returned to Ireland from her beloved South Africa where she now lives with her two daughters. Already a Reiki Master Practitioner, Reflexologist and Crystal Healer, she’s heading back to college to add counselling and psychotherapy to her ever growing holistic health offerings.

She has always written – both for herself and for corporate clients. Recently her writing took a very personal turn following the breakdown of her marriage. Fiona writes from the heart; filled with love, with pain, with honesty, plenty of tears, and a good sprinkling of humour. Follow her Talking Healing Blog or her Facebook page, The Healing Room,  or even encourage her very reluctant attempts at Twitter.

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Writing is an art form, a practical tool, a verbal dance, a necessity. It’s something we interact with daily ~ and something some of us delve into deeply and with gusto, where others may struggle. I’d love to hear your comments on how writing fits into your world! ~ Patricia

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Writing by Hand

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In my late teens I had the opportunity to have my handwriting analyzed. It was the coolest thing. An old woman in a hospital, whom I never personally met, looked at my swooping p’s and looping y’s and sharply crossed t’s, the height of my h’s, the slants, the weights, the close-or-far-apartness of the letters, if they were small or large, tidy or swirly. What she discovered may well have been the best description of me I’ve heard. Her analysis also told me things I didn’t yet know, almost like a fortune, or a map. It was pretty fascinating.

Which reminds me that the physical, pen-in-hand act of writing is not only a form of communication, it’s a form of self-expression; another window into the soul.

It’s also a fabulous collector of thoughts. Sometimes a pen can’t keep pace with my thoughts, but sometimes the slower act of hand-writing keeps my thoughts in line, keeps them from running off to oblivion, balances my mood. Plus I get to make doodles on the page. (Silly? Not really – it’s actually part of the thought process.)

Something happens between the mind and the hand that’s different than what happens between the mind and the keyboard. Maybe it’s simply that hand-writing is organic. It’s breathing deeply instead of a quick lap around the track.

There’s a place for both the handwritten and the typewritten – one is not “better” than the other; in fact both are good, and both are necessary – but even without the scientific evidence at my fingertips (no pun intended), I am certain that both methods exercise different parts of the brain, some how, some way. (And yes, there are differences between printing and script to form our letters as well.) The entire mind-body-spirit is involved ~ how we think, how we process, how we sit, how we move our hands, how we feel. There’s got to be physiological implications.

And so, while this may be old news, the fact that teaching cursive writing in school is being phased out of the curriculum just blows my mind. I can’t believe it’s even up for discussion, much less already happening.

What about hand-eye coordination, thinking patterns, better comprehension when writing things down “painstakingly” by hand, knowing how to spell and use proper grammar and punctuation without spell-check tools, and yes, expression and creativity?

When it comes to writing by hand, there’s so much in the pro column here, and, as far as I can see, a big zero in the negative column. What is so damn important that basic penmanship skills get the boot?

All this really brings my inner cynic out front. Anyone interested in positive teaching, in my opinion, wouldn’t even consider taking this out of our schools.

Sure, electronic-based writing is more practical, and block-letters are easier to master than script. But there’s enormous value in writing by hand, and to imagine this capacity no longer existing is a truly disturbing thought. The very human-ness of writing by hand should not be relegated to dusty archives, hidden corners, calligraphers and ancient texts.

Please teach your kids to write! (I can hear it now… “But why do I have to do this? I’ll never use it!) Are we to be tethered to electronic devices for everything we do? (Next it’ll be paints. No more Grumbacher. Good bye Winsor & Newton! Why use real paint when you can do it with software?) Who decides the value here? How is that value measured? Will we cordon off whole parts of our brain?

There’s just too much telling people what to do, what to think, how to think, how to feel, how to be. Stop it already. And let kids learn to write. Print letters and script letters. By hand. It’s important.

And not that this is the crux of my argument, but you know, maybe they’ll even gain insights from having their handwriting analyzed one day… their own personally unique formation of words on a page, from head to hand to paper.

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Making Art & Making Time

A poster I made based on an Andy Warhol quote recently prompted some lively conversation in a Facebook thread.

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One friend commented that she knew many artists, writers and musicians who seem reticent to follow their artistic passion, for a whole bunch of reasons… and how she’d read something years ago that stayed with her ~ something to the effect that if you don’t let your creativity out it will beat you bloody inside.

I tend to agree. With both Warhol and my friend’s observation.

Actually, make that, I pretty much wholeheartedly agree. It’s something I’ve experienced first hand. Never expected to ~ because art, writing, etc was “just something I did”, I flowed merrily along. I took it for granted. But at a time when I became swallowed up in life’s other demands that didn’t allow room for all that stuff I “just did”, I thought I’d implode.

At first I didn’t realize the source of my misery. I didn’t know how inextricably tied my creativity was to my well-being. I even felt guilty when I sat down at a canvas after many months off ~ there were more responsible things I should, and could, be doing! But my spirit was suffocating; I finally understood what was meant when they say an artist is “driven”, that it’s something they “have to do”. And yet, I wasn’t giving myself permission. That awareness came in the unexpected form of an ex – in a rare, remarkable show of support at the time – who actually put it into words. He happened to stop by during that pivotal moment at the easel and said: “Don’t be stupid. Don’t feel guilty. You’re meant to do this. You have to.” It truly hadn’t dawned on me, in quite that way.

That all said, I’ve been fortunate to be able to incorporate a few forms of my creativity into a living all these years ~ but if it’s not part of your daily experience, I’m a huge advocate of doing what you can when you can! It does you no good, nor anyone else, to let creativity smolder and stew inside you. Ideas and inspirations are there to be used and expressed. So if you’re called to, or just want to – do make more art!

Make time. Find time. Carve it out of stone if you must. Maybe a kick in the rear is called for. According to a (rather wonderful) post by Elizabeth Gilbert, setting a timer for half an hour every day can do wonders for creating discipline. Maybe you set aside a whole day. Evenings. Something that’s “doable”.  Stick to it. 

And one more thing. You have to trust the process.

Maybe you set aside your half hour or half a day and wondrous things flow and you feel great! But, maybe, you stare at a blank page the whole time and feel awful. But guess what? ~ so what! That’s going to happen sometimes, and it’s okay. It really doesn’t mean a thing.

The process you have to trust is that there’s an ebb and flow to creativity just as in all things in nature. We don’t always have control (an understatement, right?!). Best laid plans and all that. The point is to keep going. Exercise the muscle.

You have something to express, and it’ll find its way ~ you just need to give it the time and space to breathe on out, so it doesn’t manifest as tension gone inward. Don’t think ~ “just get it done.” 

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A Plethora of P’s / #70: Pen (and Ink)

proactively punctuating life with the plausible, powerful possibilities of positive thought presented through a plethora of “P’s”.

saxton.P_penaandink“The pen is mightier than the sword.”

I’ve always liked this quote. It assumes the great power of words, language and intention, which are just a few of my favorite things, along with pens themselves, of course.

[Side note: I’d always assumed this was a line from Shakespeare. Sounds like it ought to be, right? But I was wrong. This is what learned: This line was quoted in 1839 from a play written by Britain’s Edward Bulwer-Lytton, both an Author and Politician of his day. No one remembers the play (Richelieu: or, the Conspiracy) but we’ve all heard the line. Apparently he’s also famous for the opening “It was a dark and stormy night”. I just love learning new things. 🙂 ]

In any event – back to P for pen. This is actually a guest P, created by a friend of mine and presented as a surprise, which truly delighted me. She’d taken a Zendangle course, and this was something she produced. Isn’t it great?! I adore it.

It’s also great because pens have always been an important positive in my own world. I am, in fact, most comfortable with a pen in hand ~ I just think better with a pen in hand. I’m also able to doodle if things are dull on the other side of the table or the other end of the phone, or in meetings, or just as an unconscious release of nervous energy. They’re great for making lists, and of course, for jotting down flashes of brilliance (that may or may not be brilliant on second look). My thoughts flow most easily when writing. As if the connection between mind and hand takes just enough longer than the one from mind to mouth, allowing for a richer expression, rather than a quick one.

Pens and I go way back. As a child I was always drawing and writing. My mother, a poet, was always writing. My parents had fallen in love through letter-writing. Pens were the natural order of things.

Then as my drawing skills developed, I got more and more courageous and soon stepped out of my comfort zone with pencils (which can be erased) to pen and ink (which cannot be erased). This is when I learned, sometimes the hard way, that mistakes a.) happen and b.) are not always remedied, but c.) can sometimes be made into something better. A life lesson from an unlikely source, but a good one I’ve carried with me.

So I, yes, am grateful for pens. And I do believe they are mighty. <3

Here are a few pen and inks from my archives.

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(see our ongoing Plethora of P’s here)

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