Just Show Up

Somedays just showing up at your desk is all you can do. It’s more than you have. Somedays, you walk into your space, so carefully crafted with all the things just so, and you realize you have nothing. You feel angry or confused or just empty and you hope for something. Some magic, some creative force to show up and give you life and energy…inspiration. But there is nothing. And so you sit there, patient or frustrated or angry or sad or just plain spaced out. After a while, you decide that today is not the day and so you move on.

You fear it will never be the day. Maybe today was the day the muse burned the temple to the ground. You are bereft and there is nothing. But you get up the next day and you show up again. Like Sisyphus with his rock. Around you people have success, or they don’t. They try new things, or they don’t. They need you, or want you, or require you to do this or that…or they don’t. And still, you show up at your desk and you wait and you try to listen.

One day you might sit down and feel ready and inspired and full of ideas. One day you might paint your masterpiece or write your novel or simply find your creative voice. And on that day, all the days of confusion and all the hopelessness will suddenly make sense. Because the only thing that mattered was that you showed up. Even when it was hard. Even when you were lost, you showed up. And that was enough.

As for me, I’m trying to find a way to do this badly. I’m trying to find the courage to write and draw and paint and just put it out there in the world. On the days when it is good and the days when it is bad. When I have something to say and when I don’t. I need to give myself the space to be “less than” if I ever want the room to grow.

5-minute life sketches

These 5-minute sketches from a live model in my online drawing group are not meant to dazzle. They are simply a chance for me to practice…both my sketching and my courage.

Lest we forget

And the people came together. Apart and alone, they felt their common humanity. They found the joy in simple things. They looked to nature, they baked, and they sewed. They put away their cars and their planes, and they brought out their bread makers. They stopped running after money, and time, and more things. They slowed down and they walked. They went outside and they were grateful for the sun on their faces. From across the abyss, they waved and they remembered what it was to be human. Isolated and yet somehow connected, they waited like a crocus waiting for the first few warm days of spring.

We reached out and we stayed in. We feared, and we hoped, and we sheltered. And just for one moment, we laid down our weapons and looked into our hearts and our homes for the things we thought were external. We sewed masks for those who had less than us, and we shared stories of hope. We took pictures of the small miracles that showed up in our yards and we shared them as though they were the most extraordinary adventure in an exotic land. And, indeed, they were. The dolphins returned to our shores and the penguins and foxes and kangaroos ventured back into our cities. And for that one moment, we truly were, one world united.

And when the world began to open up again, there was a tiny chance. A chance to reinvent, a chance to change our destiny. The land had time to begin to heal and somewhere inside, there was a little more room in our hearts. It would be so easy to lose that small opening in the bustle of returning to what used to be. So easy to forget that, in that one moment, when we were forced to slow down, we were able to see each other with all our flaws and all our foibles and to realize how much we needed each other.

Mindfulness

Too much going on. Too many things to think about. All the whirring and buzzing of the world. My day. My week. My daughter’s schedule. Pick up. Drop Off. Get the laundry done. Do the reading. Go to class. Do my work. Go to the dentist. Drive somewhere. Can you pick them up today? What about the guinea pig? I think she has a cold. Does she need to go to the vet? Are there clean clothes? We need groceries. I need to eat. What should I eat? Do I have time to cook that? About that laundry... What about the mail? Pay the bills. Go to the bank. Buy some hay. Go to the drug store. You forgot shampoo. Is there laundry in the dryer? No I forgot it in the washer. Bring the groceries in. Walk with a friend. Rewash the mildewed laundry. Make sure you wash it in hot! Will there be time to paint today? Read the textbook. Go to my writer’s group. What about that laundry? Did I remember to put it in the dryer? Clean the garage. Organize the photos. Maybe that one can wait. Go to the Girl Scout meeting. Talk to the neighbor about the fence. Eat some dinner. Try to slow down enough to get some sleep...Wait I forgot the laundry...

Breaking News

This morning, in Mr. Juniper’s first-grade classroom, a slug was discovered on the welcome mat. It was large and yellow with 2, count them 2, stalky antennae. Mr. Juniper jumped up on his chair and screamed for help.

The children, who had been well trained for just such an emergency, immediately put their plan into action.

Jimmy Jones ran for the fire extinguisher. “You never know! It might catch fire,” he screamed.

Susie Jones, Jimmy’s twin, ran for the coat closet and prepared to defend the lunch boxes. “It might be hungry!” she yelled.

Steve “Dimples” McGill, lined up at the back door. “We need to evacuate the area immediately!”

Most of the other children piled up into a corner and barricaded themselves behind the supply cupboard. “Close all the windows, close the blinds, and lock the doors!” cried Sally Stevens.

Just then Mrs. Kowalski, the principal, came by the class.

“What’s going on in here?” she pursed her lips with a sour grimace.

“Watch out Mrs. Kowalski. It’s right in front of you!”  someone yelled from behind the cupboard.

“Aiiiiiiiiii!!!!” shrieked Mrs. Kowalski as she leaped half way across the room in a graceful arc and landed next to Mr Juniper on the chair.

The school custodian, Jim Peters heard the noise and came to be sure everyone was alright.

“What the holy moly is that!!!???” and he joined the other adults on the teacher’s chair.

The school librarian was just heading back to the library with her morning cup of coffee when she heard the commotion and poked her head into the classroom.

“Waaaahhhh!!!” she shrieked, pouring her cup of joe all down her front and leaping up onto the teacher's desk. At this point, of course, there was no room for anyone else on the chair.

Just at this moment, the entire PTA came into the office for a meeting with Mrs. Kowalski. “Make yourselves at home. I won’t be a moment,” said Miss Todsworth, the school secretary as she bustled off to see what was keeping Mrs. Kowalski.

When Miss Todsworth arrived at the classroom, she took one look at the slug on the mat and jumped right up on the desk with Jim Peters.

By the time the first bell rang for recess, three parents, a teacher’s aide, and a couple of 6th grade boys who had hall passes, had all joined the adults standing on the furniture.

Just before the second bell rang, Little Junie Threadbottom, who was the youngest girl in Kindergarten, came wandering into the classroom.

“Be careful! There’s a giant slug the size of Manhattan in here!” shrieked Dimples.

“Where?” asked Little Junie.

“It’s right there in front of you! Can’t you see it?” yelled all of the adults at once pointing to the welcome mat.

“You mean this little guy?” and Junie picked the slug up, gave it a kiss on its sluggy head, and took it out to a cool wet place in the school garden.       

I Got Nothing

Today I’m going to write about the nothing in my head. I am scared that all the ideas are gone. I am scared that no one will want my book. I am scared that I can’t make it as a therapist. I am scared that my daughter will choose the “wrong” college. I am scared that I am scared. I am lonely because I am scared. And so because I am living in a cesspool of anxiety, there is nothing in my head.

I sit down to write and the world is blank. All the fun ideas that came to me in the shower have run away to wherever it is that ideas go and hide. I want to be great...or even good. I want to do all the things. I want to put my voice out there...and then there is the fear.

What if I could do this differently. What if I didn’t have the anxiety? Some days I think it is my friend because it gets me going in the morning. But when something really big and really important comes along, it throws itself on the tracks and the train stays stuck in the station...with me in the passenger compartment. Bored, lonely, waiting. Why? Why does anxiety feel the need to do that? And how can we overcome it?

And maybe this is my next story. The way fear throws itself on the tracks. The way it follows you around and tries to keep you safe…but why do you need to be saved from all the things that matter.

You might get disappointed. Disappointment is scary.

You might be successful and things would change. Change is scary.

You might fail. Failure is scary.

You might get what you want and find out you don’t want it. That’s scary.

You don’t know what will happen. Not knowing is scary.

And feeling scared is scary. Which makes no sense but is true nevertheless.