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an everyday life

Tag Archives: Writing

Running on Empty

03 Friday Apr 2009

Posted by Janell in Life at Home

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Career, Everyday Life, Raising Children, Writing

‘I’m running on empty’ was once how I described my life.  Mid-week through my Ignatius prayers, I no longer believe this was true.  Instead, I was running on the gas of success.

 

Back when the boys were still toddlers, I broke my  life like a wishbone between graudate school and my fast-paced career.  In theory, my family received leftovers; but in reality where it counts, my work ambitions as a senior tax executive absorbed the best of the rest.  I craved success like a crack addict craves their next high.  And because my work additction was knotted up with my shaky self-esteem, I couldn’t seem to break free of it.    

 

My first step toward ‘sobriety’ came when my husband’s career intervened with the first of many overseas trips.  Before leaving town, my husband left me a detailed written schedule of the children’s weekly activities – the soccer practices and games, the Cub Scout activities, etc.  I needed this cheat sheet because I had effectively delegated the family to my husband, in the same way I had delegated work to my staff and outside consultants.   

 

A few days into my new life and role, I began keeping a journal.  Re-reading the entries today made my eyes water as I relived again those days of young family.  The pages witness to the normal everyday life that the kids and I enjoyed:  we spent evenings at home doing puzzles, watching movies, going through home readers and subtraction cards; we ate dinners together, usually fast-food we picked up on the way home from daycare.  We had fallen into a rhythm of family, with both boys falling asleep in my bed and me falling in love with the idea of more time at home.

 

Within two months, I had relinquished my title along with the ambitions and stress in favor of a part-time staff position that allowed me to pick up the kids after school and cook dinner.  My friend Dianne was midwife to my new life – by listening and planting seeds of advice, she offered hope that a more balanced life was possible.  And my husband was there to support me every step of the way — I now laugh that we made this major life choice from an airport pay phone, during my layover between an east coast-west coast business trip.

 

I recognized the importance of this life event while it was happening.  But, until now, I had not recalled that it was also the point when I began writing my life.  I  had spent years chasing after life – pursuing the trappings and the glitter – the big home, the corner office the large salary and never-ending ambition for more.   But in those two weeks while my husband was overseas, I learned life is not somewhere over the rainbow, where you chase your dreams until your running on empty down the yellow brick road.  But rather that life dwells in the everyday.  And it was there where I found subjects worth writing about.  And still do.  Because if you blink instead of write, you’ll lose them forever.    

Sacred Souvenirs

24 Tuesday Mar 2009

Posted by Janell in Far Away Places, Life at Home, Prayer, Soul Care, The Great Outdoors

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Grand Canyon, Soul Care, Travel, Writing

It’s been over twenty-four hours since my last confession.    

 

I mostly read yesterday.  I had no desire to write, as other days of our road trip.  And while I read the words of another, I let my subconscious work out my own nagging thoughts.

 

I am drawn to write a primer on Christian spirituality.  And I realize, now more than ever, I am not equipped to do it.  How can I point the way to God when I cannot even put into words my own experiences of recent sightseeing in the Painted Desert or the Grand Canyon?  I am bereft of words in all directions.

 

Maybe this is why we pick up souvenirs from our travels.  Or even why we send postcards back home or take photos of where we’ve been and what we’ve seen.  We need props to help us show and tell the story of our journey.  I feel a little like I’m back in kindergarten.    

 

But, no.  I’m home sorting laundry and picking up the pieces of my life.  And in the back of my mind, I’m sorting out puzzle pieces.  Maybe I should have picked up one of those giant puzzles of the Painted Desert at the park gift shop.  It would have been good busy work, a whole lot easier than working out my own, while my hands keep busy with the comforting rhythms of daily chores.  Busy work keeps me sane, while my mind is off somewhere on the brink of eternity.      

 

On our return trip, I hoped to shoot a photo of those Albuquerque rock formations I’d been so taken with on our way out to Las Vegas–that in a fit of fancy, I imagined were a directional road sign pointing to eternity–but, by the time we crossed paths again, it was too dark for photos.  A metaphor if I can puzzle it out.    

 

Photos and words on a postcard are poor souvenirs.  I wonder if God doesn’t feel the same about the Painted Desert and Grand Canyon – perhaps these natural wonders (to us) are but a poor souvenir of eternity (to God).  And all the souvenirs in the world – those made by man and those made by God—are just signposts, pointing to something more.    

 

I am but a poor signpost of God.  I cannot tell anyone what God is like, just as I can’t describe what the Grand Canyon is like.  But, maybe if I give away a few souvenirs from my travels, or send a few postcards, it will be enough to inspire others to seek God on their own.  God knows I have no roadmaps to give out.  I get lost easily.

 

But, maybe that’s the whole point – to get lost in something bigger than ourselves–to feel poor and bereft against the backdrop of the Sacred–and then to stumble our way out with souvenirs of the Sacred to share with others.  And pray it will be enough.    

On writing

09 Monday Mar 2009

Posted by Janell in Good Reads, Life at Home, Soul Care

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Books, Soul Care, Writing

I just finished Stephen King’s book On Writing. 

 

This part memoir– part writing advice book was inspiring, but for one scary thought that made me wonder if I’d wandered into one of King’s horror stories: 

 

 “…while it is impossible to make a competent writer out of a bad writer, and while it is equally impossible to make a great writer out of a good one, it is possible, with lots of hard work, dedication, and timely help, to make a good writer out of a merely competent one.” 

 

With brutal honesty, King stripped me of all false hopes.  But I am left with one true hope that I pray in Gregorian-like chant:  Don’t let me be a bad writer, don’t let me be a bad writer, don’t let me be a bad writer….    

 

The book reads quick as King intended.  Though some thoughts are not quick to let go.           

 

Writing with blinds down and door closed for example.  I’d much rather look out a window.  But maybe shut blinds will keep my mind from wandering away…

 

Writers need a dedicated desk, humbly shoved into a corner.  I’ve no more harbored guilt over that recent layaway purchase – that lovely old mustard colored table…soon-to-be writing desk of mine.

 

Writing practice is invaluable.  But it should not seem like practice.  Time stands still when I write.  And when I’m not, I’m drawn to it.  I remember well how I dreaded piano practice as a child.  When forced to sit in front of the ivory keys, I goofed off until my jail sentence was over.  No way writing practice is like piano practice.    

           

No matter what, tell the truth always.  This is why I write.  Writing helps me to discover truth and it keeps me real.  I’ve learned words must speak truth.  Half-truths and lies simply do not hold together, nor lie down in a well-behaved line of words. 

 

Writing is merely transcribing what you see or hear.  My best writing– the words that breathe and come alive on paper–are not my words at all.  They seem to come out of nowhere.  King calls this ‘nowhere’ his muse.  I prefer to credit God.  I hope he or she doesn’t mind.  I liken transcribing to the way Mozart composed.  He heard the music first – only then did he write.  Mozart was great at taking dictation. 

 

“Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous….  In the end, it’s about enriching the lives of those who will read your work and enriching your own life, as well.”  Sounds like King’s benediction to me.   To which I’ll say amen.   

 

But here’s my own benediction.  I bought On Writing for my son Kyle to respond to a birthday gift he’d given me two years before.   That day, Kyle asked me to name my dream – to speak it aloud.  Throwing caution to the wind, I did.  And rather than laughing, he believed.  Then he searched for his trusty list of twenty writing tips he practiced himself and gave them to me.  The gift of On Writing to Kyle was my clumsy poetic way of saying — I believe in dreams.  And I believe in Kyle.  And I believe in Kyle’s dreams on writing.

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