Reblogged from Photos in a Jar:

My breakfast ideas use to be bigger than this.  My hopes of an authentic being were barely formed.  Though, breakfast was always a delightful break in the bullshit of a day that I knew was coming like a semi down I-75.  What happened to my taking pleasure in beginning my day?  Is it my ill-tolerance for bread that shot me down?  Perhaps I began valuing sleep more than culinary creative expression.  If I just gained more sleep I would…I would…eventually feel more tired and fatigued throughout the …

My friend Angela really captures a glimpse of what it means to be grateful for the little things…for everything, really…and in doing so, to really live.

Reblogged from tom.basson:

There is something wonderfully powerful about STORIES. Stories are universal – crossing boundaries of language, culture and age. We can all relate to stories, and it is in the context of narrative that the human heart truly responds. In fact, people have been telling and responding to stories since the beginning of time. It’s how most cultures pass on information from generation to generation. Interestingly, recent evidence from neurology and psychology is confirming that humans think in narrative …

Love this post from Tom Basson about the need for story and the power of story in our lives.

photo by Jhon Alfa Tumbelaka

Is it really best to do what you love? Or is it better to just get a job? What if you want your passion to remain your passion and not your job?  If you’ve ever actually tried to make money doing what you love (art, music, writing, teaching–whatever), you know that your passion can be sucked dry by the pressures and sticky details of actually earning a living. Even worse, that thing you love, that thing that was once a joy and release from the every day, has become part of the every day, so now you no longer even have your fun escape valve.

A friend of mine built a business around a passion of hers. After 14 years of running a successful but demanding business, she advocates keeping your creative passions for yourself versus wrapping your sustenance around them. Others say, “Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.”  I don’t know, though. I’ve been doing what I love for a long time, but writing as a business is a whole different animal from writing for the sheer joy of it.  It involves nasty unpleasant things like taxes, bookkeeping, billing, negotiating, and contracts.  I know. I know. This is all just reality. I get that. But is there wisdom in hiding a little piece of your creative soul away from your paycheck?

So, I’m curious. I’m really curious how others who work within their passions or creative gifts address this issue.  What do you do?

photo by Alex Erde

Do you struggle to understand the artistic souls in your life (maybe even your own)?  I’ve been surrounded by creative types from birth. My Dad? Artist. Grandmother? Artist. Husband? A musician. Oldest son? Musician and chef. Younger son? Artist. Believe me, I’ve had ample opportunity to think about how we creative types work. I’ve also got just enough left-brain functionality to understand that the creative personality completely confounds the rest of the population.

We don’t mean to.  Honest.

But our very being is a source of consternation to those who believe that 2 + 2 should ALWAYS…and I mean ALWAYS…lead to the neat and tidy and oh-so-predictable sum of 4.

And it should do so in a timely fashion.

In sympathy with my orderly, logical, left-brain friends, I thought it might help to compile a few tips to help you navigate the universe of your right-brained loved ones.  So here’s just five ideas.

1) We creative souls really do work better under pressure. Seriously, creativity thrives within boundaries–even the temporal kind! We’re not procrastinating. We’re waiting for the creative pressure to kick in. Give us too much time, and we’re staring out the window.

2) Speaking of staring out the window, we need to do this. Regularly. You’ll just have to trust us about this.

3) We respect you left-brain types with such disciplined routines. We marvel. We know we should be more like you. But I’m not gonna lie. In our world, routine is boring and overrated.

4) Feedback is fine. Collaboration is fine. Re-doing the work that you hired us to do. Confusing. You don’t, for instance, march into the kitchen of your favorite restaurant and say, “You know, this looks like fun. I’ve always fancied being a chef. Move over. I’d like to re-do that Chicken Marsala.”

5) We aren’t trying to make you crazy by changing the way we do things. We just don’t like doing things the same way twice.  (See #3)

Carolina morning. Photo by L. Kay Johnson

The importance of accepting new beginnings has become clear in recent months. I know I’m in a time of transition, but where there’s no road map or guaranteed formulas, every morning is like a new experiment..a “why not try it this way” kind of day. I’m learning to be okay with that. I’m also learning to rely on that “new every morning” mercy. A few practical routines and practices seem to help:

• Breathing: Sometimes taking the time to breathe is an act of trust.
• Gratitude: I’m reading Ann Voskamp’s 1000 Gifts. Timely stuff.  (Highly recommend it, by the way.)
• Prayer. My favorite these days:  Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done. Seems if I can keep these two prioritized, the rest is water under the bridge.
• Journaling: Forgive the analogy, but when my mind is roiling, journaling is kind of like throwing up on paper. Messy and gross. But you feel so much better afterwards. And somehow it all often magicaly transforms into clarity and useful ideas.
• Exercise. Don’t think. Just do.  Amazing how much clearer my mind is when I give myself this gift.
• Sleep.  Do I really need to give myself permission!?  Apparently so.
• Sunshine. Seriously. Amazing what a few minutes outside can do for my attitude.
• Truthful Friends. No substitute for friends who listen when I wail and then tell it like it is.
• Trust. Like breathing, all of the above require trust.

One blogger captured some great ideas about how to start the day that I thought I would share as well.  Good stuff. Now trust…and go for a walk.

In fact, like the Israelites, I am often tempted to look back at “Egypt” and think it all looks pretty good in retrospect. Like the Egyptians, I sometimes find myself saying, “Yes, I was a slave, but I was a comfortable slave!”  I keep forgetting that God loves me too much to leave me in places where I have become too comfortable. And he loves me too much to let me remain a slave versus pushing me to embrace my own freedom.

Katy also reminded me that it is just as silly to look forward into the future and allow ourselves to get all amped up with anxiety.  She said, “Just lay out the bills and see which one is due today. Pay that one. For all you know, you’ll be dead tomorrow!”  She’s right. And then I will have spent my last day on earth worrying about a bill that I will never have to pay.

See…this is why we need honest friends. Thanks, Katy.

Reblogged from Life and Laughter:

I spend a LOT of time writing. Whether it’s my Life and Laughter column, an article for a magazine or newspaper, a press release or this witty blog, I’m ALWAYS trying to come up with interesting topics, fun words, brilliant sentences, blah, blah, blah. But there are SOME days (I call them “weekdays”) when my brain doesn’t engage and I stare stupidly at my computer screen, watching that irritating cursor blink in my general direction. Mocking me. Writer’s Block.  For some reason, the voices in my head …

Hilarious! What writer can’t relate to this and many other tried and true solutions to writer’s block? This post reminds me of Anne Lamott’s claim that it’s normal to write six pages of crap before you actually come upon a coherent thought.

Photo by Emerson

I once read that you should get rid of the things that make you grimace every time you pass by. (I’m assuming this does not include family members.)  Still, without external pressure, I’m sometimes more comfortable staying in the weeds than going through the painful process of extricating myself from them. In fact, I start to convince myself that while the view is lousy in Weedville, it’s not so bad. There are lots of other weeds to keep me company.

I read recently, though, about that moment when God calls out to Adam and Eve in the garden, “Where are you?” It’s like God kept a regular sunset-watching date with his friends, but this time they were missing…hiding, as we know….as God knew.  I hear longing in that question: Where are you?  Is it possible that God actually looks forward to my companionship, but I’m so buried in the clutter of my own ambitions or fears or anxieties or agendas that I don’t even notice?

What if stopped, listened, and I answered, “Here I am. Come sit with me”?  I suspect I would gain perspective. Focus. Insight. Wisdom. I suspect I’d get rid of enough weeds to enlarge my view and find fresh perspective.

I don’t know why I hide from God’s call. I find it difficult to shut my chattering brain down long enough—even though I know it’s what I need more than anything. After all, if there’s space for God in my life, isn’t there space for everything else?

If you are in a current funk of self-pity, this is definitely not the book for you. On the other hand, if you could use a vision of courage, Someone Knows My Name will not disappoint. This book explores what it means to be a slave and what means to be free. Through the central character, Aminata, we also also explore what it means to be human.

Lawrence Hill has achieved the remarkable in several ways. First, he successfully writes from the viewpoint of an 18th-century African woman, thereby ensuring we see the extent of how slavery affected “the least of these.” Second, his careful research guarantees just enough detail to facilitate our transport to the world of 18th-century colonization. Finally, and I think this is the most remarkable thing, Hill goes beyond simply indicting European slave traders, or even Africans who fully collaborated. He doesn’t shy from the truth that slavery exists wherever human selfishness, fear, and greed exist. In other words, he indicts us all.

Only after Hill has given the reader a real eye-full of the horrors of slavery does he allow his characters to discuss the issues surrounding slavery and the lies that slave-traders and their collaborators used to condone the industry. And only after ensuring that the reader sees the misery and cruelty as blatantly as possible does he show Aminata’s own struggle to identify the right people to blame. Is it the slave ship owners? Is it those who buy the slaves? Is it the Africans who participate and profit from the trade? Is it even ladies in the drawing rooms of London who can’t live without sugar in their tea? And how does she figure in the fact that her own village once owned a man?

Identifying the enemy was far more complicated that she imagined, and knowing how to fight slavery was equally challenging. At one point, she strikes a bargain with an African slave trader to take her back to her native village. She is pained to realize that this man and his followers, who are faithful Muslims, are actively engaged in profiting from slavery just as easily as those who called themselves Christians or Jews. She also soon realizes that she has participated in the threat of her own re-enslavement by paying for their services. Even worse, as she witnesses new groups of slaves being led to the coast, she is appalled to realize that she is just like the bystanders she had condemned so long ago for watching the captives pass by and doing nothing to stop the captors.

As she tells her stories later to fellow Africans, the chief of the village is incredulous when she claims that not all “toubabu” (white men) were devils. He asks, “How could it be possible to see good in some of them?” Aminata replies, “Do you not know the human heart?”

Aminata spent years associating her identity with her father, her mother, her language, and her Bayo village. As her dream of returning there fades, she begins to realize that Bayo and all that it held is a past that she must surrender. The thing that she cannot surrender and that becomes her new identity is her commitment to freedom.

Hill’s book is a striking illustration of how easily we can justify wrongs, even whitewashing them with words like “progress and prosperity.” He forces us to look at the price of greed and evil, while also considering the power that one soul, completely free from fear, possesses to effect change. Aminata’s ultimate commitment to the truth versus even to her own dreams is one we would all do well to emulate. As she so beautifully said, “I don’t govern my life according to danger.”

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