Found in a bookshelf



Last week the cable company had to come and do a thing to some cables, run some wires, all sorts of technical things that go in one of my ears and go straight out the other.

The day after they were here I went over to look at my carefully curated stack of books that sits in front of our built in bookshelf. It's full of to be read's that I intend to go through this year. But the stack looked different, bigger books were on top (the horror!) and even worse than that, some books were facing the wrong way! 

Upon further investigation, half the book stack were books I had already read or had no plans on reading.

And then I looked down and saw the cable.

Someone had taken books out of the shelf in order to rerun the new cable, and my stack of books was taken down as a casualty of fiber optic war. 

I sat and found the books that were in the original pile, and went through others that I forgot we had, adding to the ever growing TBR stack.

And then I found a book about Haiku, which was timely as the creative writing class I'm teaching at our co-op was covering haikus the following class, and isn't that always the way it works?

The book, The Essential Haiku, has made it through many years and several moves. It was one, like about half of our collection, that became ours when we moved in together but was originally Lucas's. He studied poetry in college, and I sometimes joke that his collection of books was part of the reason I fell in love with him.

I know I've written previously about our bookshelf, about his books and how they always literally pop out at me just when I need them. About how I'll think of a title or an author, consider checking it out a the library or on Amazon, wander over to our shelf, and there it is. But I can't remember which blog it was on, or if it was an Instagram post, and I'm too lazy to look through the archives to find the link.

Yesterday morning before co-op I had a chance to look through The Essential Haiku, and I found Lucas's chicken scratch in notes and underlines and stars. From a different time, lifetimes ago. The underlined sections resonated with who he is and who we are. Separate but also together.

This time of year I tend to get sappy. The anniversary of our first date was a week or so ago, and I have such fond memories of our early days together. Wandering the streets of Salem to see the ice sculptures, brunches at Red's, Netflix dvd's back before streaming was a thing. The process of becoming us was quick, we both knew early on that we had something special. But the process of being us, that's a lifetimes worth of work. And finding little bits that remind us of our authentic selves, then and now, is what makes it exciting and rewarding. My husband is a man of few words, and so to see his inner workings, even from years ago, is an honor, one that makes me love him even more than I thought I could.

We often talk about what a gift it is to watch our children grow and become the people who they're meant to be, but we don't often talk about those aspects of our partners and spouses. With parenting, if you have a co-parent you're able to discuss ad nauseam your children's developments, physically and emotionally.

But when it comes to your partner... not so much. Maybe because we're all in the trenches, and it's harder to see changes, progress, their changes often impact our lives for better or worse, and the conversations don't happen as easily. We're willing to dissect our children's lives, but not nearly as willing to dissect our relationships and our own growth. Our partner's growth may be tied up in our own, or compared to our own lack of, or maybe don't want to own up to something, or are afraid that with one persons growth comes distance, if we don't allow space and encouragement.

Maybe we're not prepared to see when and if we evolve at different rates.

But there's joy (and sometimes frustration) in watching another person evolve. To watch someone embrace themselves, and then come back and embrace each other. Not quite new, but not nearly the same as when you first met.

Our books hold a sacred spot as a reminder that we are always evolving, separately and together, and to witness that process is a privilege.


November rambles


November is here, and it came with it's predictable moodiness. Overcast weather, drizzles for days, and a foreboding sense of winter. 

I love it. 

For those of us who love quiet, and a slower pace of life, November is something of a treat. Especially early November, where it's nearly too early to start focusing on the holidays, but they're still in sight as a balm for when the grey gets to be too much. And let's be real, there does come a time when it's too much. But to stave off the dreariness there's fairy lights and glowing candles and before long the next season of The Great British Bake Off drops in the US on Netflix (the 9th!). 

These early November days I'm thinking about what I'm interested in and want to write about in this space, aside from writing about writing. I keep coming back to the idea of slow living, and I want to expand on that. Slow, intentional, minimal... all buzz words, I know, but they resonate deeply for me. In slowing down, I always learn about myself, and notice more about the world around me, and how I want to exist in the world. 

At the same time, it's a choice that comes with privilege, to slow down. I find it increasingly painful to read about minimalism and anything remotely to do with self help and the wellness industry because of how glaringly obvious it is that there's misrepresentation happening, cultural appropriation right and left, and a lack of self awareness and privilege. 

I'm not sure where that leaves me, except to share my own experience, acknowledging the privileges I'm afforded. 

And my experience? It's about how my body does not do well in a hurried state. A rushed state. A loud and noisy and stressful state. And how I'm starting to think maybe it's our society and culture that is troubled, and not me. 

Or at least, maybe our society could do a better job of accepting people who are not in it for the money, who aren't in it for the glory, who aren't in it to keep up with the Jones's, but who want to exist in a way that keeps them content and doesn't hurt anyone else in the process. 

I want to talk about living in a way that isn't exactly mainstream. About motherhood, but more so, about how someone who is extremely introverted feels about mothering growing children. About becoming more eco-friendly... in our kitchen and with our wardrobes. 

This season, there may be a shift in this space, and at this very moment I want to extend a preemptive olive branch: by speaking about any of these topics, I am not condemning your way of living. I will be sharing what works for me, in hopes that maybe a bit will resonate with you, or perhaps you could learn something new, or spark some interest. As with everything I write here, I write for myself, but I also write with the thought that maybe someone needs to hear what I have to say.. and that person might feel less alone after reading my words. 

That's what happened last week, when I shared about my roller coaster of emotions that comes with rejection. I'll tell you something, it helps me to hear that others are in the same boat. So it often comes full circle, and a bit of vulnerability can go a long way. 

Thank you for reading my ramblings, I wasn't sure what I was going to share today when I opened up a new blog post, sometimes my favorite bits of writing come spilling out without a plan or an outline, they flow as they see fit.

Ritual


The fans are still working overtime. Hot cups of tea are relegated for first thing in the morning, and then by mid afternoon I'm so desperate for the ritual that I sweat through a steaming mug... because that's what it's really about, the ritual. I've never figured out how to make iced tea that pleases my taste buds. Then, even if I make a half decent pitcher, a glass of the cool beverage disappears quickly. A few gulps, and it's gone. There's no waiting, no patience required, no gingerly testing, risking burned taste buds and that bit of spilled boiling water if you wince and pull the mug away from your lips too quickly. 

We turned the oven on the other day to make a cake to celebrate our return to the school year. Our calendar is filling up with activities and field trips, indoor climbing and birding with the local Audubon, some road tripping and many weekly hikes. Chocolate cake so moist and spongy, it was worth the warmth in the kitchen on an already sweltering day. The ritual, the celebration, the return. 

The kids bake every week, every Tuesday to be exact. They take turns selecting recipes and baking (mostly) on their own, and then they select poetry to read for Poetry Teatime, and we celebrate the every day beauty of words and sugar and togetherness. It's simple, this ritual, but in it's own way it's just as meaningful as the first cake of the school year. 

Noticing the importance of rituals and routines, while honoring the unexpected and impulsive, and noticing the ebb and flow of each is part of my life's work, I believe. I am a creature of habit, an introvert who loves the comfort of home and seek out cozy nooks and sofas where I can tuck my feet underneath me wherever I go. Knowing this about myself is half the battle. Loving this about myself is the other half. 

And so, summer has made me weary. I've lost myself a bit. I'm tired. I'm waiting patiently for the arrival of my most recent order of yarn so I can cast on for a new sweater. I'm ready to pack up the swimsuit and the boogie boards and wash the hand-knits and dust off my boots. I'm ready to not sweat as soon as I take a sip of midday tea. 

But for now I'll take those beads of sweat on my upper lip, and know that my rituals are carrying me through until a bit of ease creeps in with a change of weather patterns, and I can tuck my feet under me on the couch and throw a hot water bottle on my lap while knitting as a child reads aloud next to me, and the change of seasons breathes new life into all of us. 

multitudes...


I've gone quiet on most social media platforms this week. I'm feeling as though there's not much for me to add to the conversation on what's happening in our country, the border, the president, the government, the divisiveness. 

Times like this, it feels frivolous to talk about anything else. It feels as though if I turn to look away, I'm ignoring what is happening. And if I'm not speaking, how will anyone know where I stand? 

But, in order to not go numb, we need to continue with our work, whatever that may be. We must continue the work of keeping ourselves grounded, and informed, and mentally healthy in order to continue to process, to find ways to help, to be useful. It's a tricky thing to balance, and something I'm not sure any of us know how to accomplish. 

What I do know is this:

We are capable of doing more than one thing at a time, and we are capable of feeling more than one thing at a time, as well. We can be horrified, stricken, and disgusted by policies and the hypocrisy our leaders, and still find joy in our children. We can be saddened by the separations of families, and still find time to read a good book and smile at the jokes. We can frustrated and maddened by the institutional racism that plagues our country, and still take a peaceful walk on the beach and marvel at the ebb and flow of the sea. 

And that fact, that we contain multitudes of layers and feelings and joys and pains, that makes us human, and as long as we remember that each person on this planet is, in fact, human... maybe we'll have a chance after all. 

But for now, I encourage you - as I'm encouraging myself - to write on. To create. To feel empowered to do your work, to inspire and champion others work as well. We need words. We need beauty, the pretty and the messy. We need sincerity and truth and humanity. Connection. And with art, in all it's forms, we can find those very things. 

So keep writing. Keep creating. It matters.


Noticing awe


A huge part of being a writer is awareness. Not necessarily of self, though that helps, but of awe inspiring things that go unnoticed to most. We're so busy, as a people and a society, that we hurry through our days and errands and hours and meetings and gatherings that often we don't hear what people are saying - or aren't saying - and we miss the glory of what surrounds us. The silly shapes of the clouds, the perfect climbing tree, the way someone winces when they think no one is looking, or the tender moment when a young man gently touches his mother's arm in the checkout line at the grocery store, and the look they share before moving forward. 

For me, it's a win win. I need to slow down and notice things to write, but then it becomes a practice and noticing, slowing down my mind and feet, ends up enhancing my daily life in ways that remind me of childhood. 

Giving myself the freedom to spend moments in awe, to allow my heart to expand and swell with wonder, makes me think back to those moments on walks with my children when they were toddlers and we would gently encourage them to keep moving, otherwise we'd stay in the same place for hours watching ants or picking dandelions (which we often did).

Now, they're the ones racing ahead as I lollygag on walks, taking pictures and daydreaming. 

Some of the things my jaw drops in awe over make it into a notebook, or more likely an Instagram post, but often they sit somewhere around my rib cage in a warm glow, waiting to be tapped into when I need a bit of warmth when the world feels cold, callous, and foreign. These small moments remind me of our shared humanity, but also of the natural world which will continue on well after my time on earth is over. The details of earth humble me, ground me, and I'm regularly overcome with awe.

Do you stop and smell the roses? Do stop in your tracks and marvel at nature? Do you notice details as you move through the day? Do you feel awe regularly? If your answer is no to any of these questions, what's stopping you?

Spring at Long Hill

Over the weekend we decided to trek down to one of our favorite places to walk around: Long Hill in Beverly. The kids and I have been several times recently in the last few months on Monday hikes with homeschool friends, but Lucas hadn't been in a few years. It's a gorgeous, 114 acre property that boasts sprawling gardens, a children's garden, an orchard, hiking trails, and more. 

This place never fails to impress. We're currently listening to Anne of Green Gables on audiobook, and all I could think while wandering the gardens was how much "scope for the imagination" Long Hill offers! I felt like Anne as she marveled over the Lake of Shining Waters and the White Way of Delight. 

I'll leave you with a few pictures... and if you're local, make sure to check it out this spring and summer.













Writing update: expectations, reality, and hope


The notebook pictured is full of scribbles pertaining to my novel. Several outlines, timelines, character sketches, full paragraphs, lines, sometimes only a word to jog my memory. It's fun to look through and see what stuck. What didn't. What might need to come back someday when an agent or editor has suggestions. 

Last week I began the process of querying literary agents. Prior to that I worked on a query letter template, with the help of a few patient people who held my hand and read my words. I struggled over tone, word choice, and how to capture the essence of a 100,000 word novel into three short paragraphs. But it's done, and after the first email submission, I felt a sense of relief. 

It's a process, getting your novel out into the world. I don't expect to hear anything from anyone anytime soon. But, I do hope that my email will fall into the right inbox at some point. 

Before I hit send to the first literary agent on my list, I had to dig deep and ask myself the question I've been avoiding for months:

Will I be okay with rejection? 

I don't truly know the answer to that. But I'm doing my best to keep my chin up. I hope that keeping some perspective about the business of publishing and realizing that it's all just the nature of the beast, and not necessarily my writing, will help. I've never taken rejection, or criticism well. Writing groups have helped me tremendously with handling criticism. But rejection, it still stings. The fear of it holds me back. But I'm tired of holding myself back, of giving in to fear and letting what I believe other people think of me and my work keep me from pursuing my dreams.

My goal for the summer is to send out as many query letters as possible, and hope that one will stick. While doing so, I'm planning on enjoying time with my children, countless trips to the beach, and some serious self care rituals and routines. For me, that includes getting up early, writing morning pages while sipping tea, exercise, dry brushing {I find it so therapeutic! Look it up if you haven't heard of it}, drinking lots of water, connecting with my husband, and remembering that while my book and my writing is important to me, my worth, my value as a human being, does not rely on finding an agent, and having my book traditionally published. 

But yeah, it'd be nice if I could find a literary agent to represent my book sooner rather than later. 

Managing expectations and reality while staying mildly optimistic will be the true work of my summer. Maybe my life...

shifts in spaces, and perspective



We live in a modest two family house. We think it was built around the time of the Civil War. The wide floor boards are creaky, and you can fit several types of Legos in the gaps between. The floors slant and the ceilings are low, there are no hallways - one room leads to the next on both floors. Privacy is at a minimum,  but with exposed brick in the dining room and a built in bookshelf in the living room, the house full of character and charm.

Technically, it's a two bedroom apartment. The kids have been sharing a room since we moved in, seven'ish years ago. They've rarely complained, and it has suited them well. But now they're 11 and almost 10, and their heights and collections are rapidly growing.

Every year or so we start to look at this place a little differently. Notice corners we've under utilized, shelves that lend themselves to dishes rather than canned goods, the perfect wall space for a picture previously stored in the attic. This house has grown with us, changed with our needs, and met us where we are every single time. Whenever I get frustrated with the space, or lack of, I only need reminding that furniture can be moved, pictures rehung.

The other week the kids and I were undertaking a huge spring clean. With vacuum in hand, I looked at their bedroom, how the two beds were so crowded, and the landing we used at the top of the stairs for a playroom was overrun with unused toys and clutter. We'd talked in the past about how maybe it could someday be used for a bedroom, sort of loft style.

"Would either of you want to take over this space for your bedroom?" I asked.

Paige said no right away.

Fynn pondered.

Then he said no.

"That's fine," I told him. I began picking up, preparing to sweep the floors and dust the light fixtures.

And then I caught him pondering some more.

Ultimately, he said yes with excitement in his eyes.

Within the next two hours we moved Fynn onto the landing, reorganized Paige's room, and sorted all the toys and hid them away neatly in the shared closet.

We created space where it looked like there was none. In a way, it felt like alchemy. Everyone is happy in their new spaces, they've shifted bits of furniture around, taking pleasure in the freedom they each have in making their rooms their own. The creative energy has shifted into other areas of the house, we moved around the living room furniture to create more of a conversational area, and the dining room feels more spacious after we moved most of Paige's craft supplies up to her bedroom. We're settling in, again. I'm not sure how long we'll be here, but these shifts remind me you can make a home wherever you are. With whatever space you have. Little or big. It's partly about creativity, but mostly about perspective.

When I was growing up, there were many days when my father would come home from work and find the house rearranged. Bookshelves moved (oh my word... my mother, brother, and I still joke about moving books... all the books...), bedrooms switched, furniture rearranged. He always laughed and said something to the affect of "Your mother is at it again..."

If nothing else, I learned from those experiences to take control of my surroundings, that you can make a big impact in a space without spending much money, and that moving a bookshelf can change an entire room. My hope is that my children will learn the same lesson, and we'll all be able to laugh when they're older as we remember the bruises on our thighs and arms from moving furniture, and the weight of carrying armful after armful of books from one shelf to another. Fond memories they'll be, I'm sure of it.

Life post screen free week


Screen Free week ended with a viewing of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix on Saturday night. We huddled together on the couch and all sighed as the television glowed and the familiar theme song filled the living room. And just like that, screens were back in the daily rotation... 

To be fair, we'd all used devices on and off all week. Mostly for work and school, but also for communicating with friends via email and various messengers. This year, we were reminded of how often necessity dictates device usage, from paying bills to knowing the details of a homeschool get together, to simply finding out the weather. 

The weather cooperated and last week we were able to spend quite a bit of time outdoors. The kids each sanded, primed, and painted a piece of furniture. We hiked with friends twice. There was an afternoon at the beach that ended with the first faint sunburns of the year... 

We had a good week, though I found myself longing for Instagram. For Pinterest. For ways to zone out which didn't take much attention or concentration on my part. 

The funny thing is, those things I longed for, actually make me tired. I reintroduced all of the above starting Saturday night, and it's exhausted me. This week I've paid attention to my moods before and after I scroll through pictures and words, and I'm not pleased with my findings. I'm irritable. Tired. Worn down, emotionally. 

I've given this a good deal of thought. As an introvert I need to be cautious about how I spend my energy, and while I think social media is a good way for an introvert to find community, participate in conversations, etc... it's still energy, and I'm still expending it by using my phone to scroll, by being at the beck and call of texts and messengers.

Don't get me wrong, I love the connections made through blogging and Instagram. They are true and valid and worthy of attention and love and provide many positive things to my life. But... I think there's a valid case to be made about how social media and the internet can interrupt the flow of life, while at the same time providing connection. It's all about how we use it, and why. 

Attention, intention, and responsibility are all words that have been floating around in my head the past few days. 

As a family, we've declared Thursdays to be Screen Free Day each week. We're going to keep the conversation going about how we use our devices, and try to be more attentive to the people around us instead of our screens. It's a challenge, especially as technology keeps moving forward and is proving to be a bigger part of our lives than at least I had ever imagined it would be. 

And let's be honest, having the world at our fingertips is amazing... provided we don't let it stop us from getting ourselves out into the world. 




Growing


I haven't showed my face around here for a while, so... hello. This is me. The thirty something year old version of myself that is occasionally hard to recognize. Or rather, was hard to recognize. Not so much anymore. 

On our road trip I found myself squinting at the road signs on the highway, having headaches that weren't from dehydration or fatigue. Turns out, when you're driving around your own town and not really paying attention to signs - because you don't need to - you don't really realize when your glasses prescription changes... 

An eye exam showed that, low and behold my prescription changed enough to make a not so subtle difference... so I bought myself some new glasses. 

After wearing the same frames, give or take, for fifteen years, a change was in order. And a change it has been. 

My word of the year - I assume you've all heard about this concept by now - is grow. Meaning to grow into myself, to grow my writing, my yoga practice, my patience.... you get the idea. 

The most challenging of all of that, is growing into myself. 

Somehow, I've avoided it for the majority of my life, focusing instead on what I thought others would want me to be and do and dress and act.

So this growth thing, it's been kind of huge. 

And my new glasses are all part of it as I'm choosing to wear things, to adorn myself, with things that I like, instead of thinking about if other people would like how I look in them.  Like corduroy overalls, oversized glasses, flowy, shapeless dresses and clogs. All the clogs, please. I'm choosing to buy things and wear things that fit my body comfortably now, instead of someday. And to exercise because I love my body, not because I want it to change or become smaller. I'm a little softer around the edges than I used to be, but  no less strong. And frankly, I love how my curves play with my strength, how soft doesn't mean weak. 

I'm choosing to pause before saying yes, to honor when my gut tells me to say no, and to really look at what negative "obligations" I can eliminate and things I truly want to do because they add something positive to my life. 

The last few years I've known somewhere deep down what I wanted out of life, who I wanted to be and who I am. Sometimes I've had to squint to see that person, and the headache that caused... I'm done with. I don't want to squint to have to find myself. 

Growing into myself, and then staying close to my heart for the inevitable ebbs and flows of the inner journey, is the challenge. It's what life is all about. Growing into, and then loving, the self. It's only taken me thirty some odd years and a new pair of glasses to get here...

Getting unstuck



Ever since returning from our road trip, we've been in a funk. Well, more or less, the adults in this family have been in a funk. It's the time of year, the way we came home (via friends and a tow truck...), and probably a million little things that seem to add up when winter seems never ending and all the ways of being a grown up confront you at once. It can make you feel... stuck. 

It happens. But, sometimes you have to do the work of getting yourself out of feeling bogged down by it all. 

Tuesday is blog post writing day, and then I schedule these posts for Wednesday morning. This week I woke up dreading writing a blog post, I didn't have anything positive to say about anything, I've been having major difficulty getting back into my morning routine, and life just felt slow and hard and heavy. So I asked the folks over on Instagram stories for ideas - what did they want to hear about? And then after connecting with a few lovely people, I answered my own question, and got myself unstuck. 

The following is the list of things I did that helped me to feel lighter, less frustrated, and all around in a better mood...

  • Talk to someone. Even if it's not about the thing you're grumpy about. Connect. Laugh. In whatever manner is best for you. Today for me it was Instagram messages and a phone conversation with my mom. 
  • Yoga. It ALWAYS helps. And not just yoga (though that's my exercise of choice) but movement of any kind. Today I did a quick 16 minute stretch with Yoga with Adriene, and it ticked all the boxes. 
  • Play some hip swaying, spin inducing, dancing music. Right now we're all loving Meghan Trainer radio on Pandora... 
  • Bake something that smells and tastes like spring and hope. The kids and I whipped up a batch of Mini Meyer Lemon Bundt Cakes. With the following substitutions: regular lemons, gluten free flour, earth balance 'butter' and coconut yogurt. 
  • Create. Collage. Write. Paint. Knit. Make something from nothing and marvel at the magic that lies at  your fingertips. 
It didn't take much, even though lying in bed this morning it all seemed impossible, but all of the above helped tremendously. Once I got my butt in gear, it all flowed and one good thing led to the next. Maybe something small could help you today? What do you do when you feel stuck, when getting out of bed in the morning feels tedious, depression is knocking at your door, or you just have a case of the early spring - where's the warmth! - blues? 

One of these days I'll write about writing again, though from where I'm sitting with my editing hat on it doesn't feel like I have much to share... are there any topics you, my dear reader, would like me to write about in regards to writing, or anything else? I'd love to know as I'm having a tough time finding my footing in this blogging space this go around...