My Life Has Gone to the Dogs: Everyday Magic, Day 998

“It’s like an animal daycare here,” said my friend Laurie, here to give Shay some doggy acupuncture today. She was right, and with two dogs and two cats, it’s also a canine and feline exercise and mindfulness training program, continually interrupting what I thought I was doing to point my attention toward a higher power. Never underestimate the call of the dogs to go outside. Add in the cats, whose needs must be met whenever they arise because: cats, and you can imagine how much practice I get sitting down only to stand up again.

It wasn’t always like this. For years, we had a constant balance of three animals, mostly two cats and a dog, and occasionally a cat and two dogs. But the addition of Moxie — a border collie with a bit of rat terrier in her — to our trio of Shay the dog, and Miyako and Sidney Iowa, the cats — the balance has shifted even more from the two-leggeds to the four-leggeds. Working at home means I’m in the thick of Animal Kingdom much of the time, and wherever I am in or around the house, they must be also. I could be in my favorite chair, laptop fully engaged, or at the kitchen table meeting with a client over Zoom, or on the front porch, talking on the phone with someone to plan an event, and I will be interrupted. Repeatedly. Just about everyone I work with has heard barking, meowing, and doors opening and closing often.

The animals must of course situate themselves around each other and me. If I pace as I talk on the phone, sometime I’m prone to do, the animals must pace too. If I head to the kitchen to make tea, there they are, herding me toward the stove (particularly the border collie, who can’t help herself). If I need to concentrate — especially in the middle of composing a sentence, revising a poem, or editing a manuscript — someone will leap, hiss, yelp, or knock over something loud just as I’m struggling the most to find the right word or punctuation.

At the same time, I really like being part of a pack. Besides never feeling alone, the mammals do the same thing for me as the meditation bell I downloaded onto my computer, which rings every hour: they stop me in my tracks. I more or less have to look up from the bottom of my rabbit hole to see what else the world holds: three crows balancing on a branch of Cottonwood Mel, the wind picking up and clouds filling in, and a big, lazy cat in the window sill who wants back in. I use the meditation bell to make myself pause for five minutes, breathe and meditate, and check in with how I’m feeling and navigating.

Mostly, I discover that whatever I thought was set in stone or anxiously urgent actually isn’t. Instead, there’s fur-covered faces staring intently in my direction, saying, wake up as well as get off your ass and feed us! I do because I don’t want to be in the doghouse with these animals or with my own habitual deadends. Besides, there’s a lot to learn from surrendering to a higher power even if it does take the form of muddy paw tracks all over the house.

Please consider supporting me on Patreon, and get a whole lot more writing, writing prompts, and inspirations!

Nine Reasons to Give a Little (or a Lot): Everyday Magic, Day 978

One of the beautiful cards with Stephen Locke’s photography for patrons

As many of you know, I’m leaping from my day job of college-level teaching to creating more transformative writing, community-building writing workshops, and a podcast series on the power of words. I’m also asking for your help in supporting this leap. Here are nine reasons to consider being a patron through Patreon, a great online platform that helps writers, artists, innovators, and others do cool stuff in the world. You can see more here.

1. Perks: You get a signed book of your choice, gorgeous greeting cards with Stephen Locke’s photography and my poetry, and even a poem I write for you for a beloved.

2. Weekly Inspiration: All patrons get a post every Friday with something to spark creativity and magic in your life, art, and work, such as “The Care and Feeding of the Artist,” a podcast poetry reading, and tips on inventing your own inspiration.

3. Poetry Party!: Every time I cross the $100 mark each month (and we’re really close to another crossing), patrons get to call out (via the Patreon site or emailing me directly) words you want me to weave into a spontaneous poem I make up on the spot, record, and share with you. You can also watch the often hilarious and sometimes moving past poetry parties.

4. Satisfaction: Doesn’t it feel good to help someone live their dreams? Patrons get the satisfaction of knowing they’re helping me follow my calling.

5. Making Good Things Happen: Your contributions help me create new writing, workshops, and a podcast series (to launch this fall) on the power of writing and witnessing our truest stories.

I dress up a bit more than for the Poetry Party!

6. Ease: Becoming a patron is simple: You just click here, follow the directions, and within a few minutes, you’re in.

7. What a Deal!: For as little as $3/month, you can be a patron. Also, those little payments are easy to swallow each month.

8. Your Fellow Patrons: I’m not exaggerating when I say my patrons are exceeding passionate, innovative, and soulful change makers in this world. Come hang out with the cool kids;

9. The Power of Being a Patron: You don’t have to be the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation to support the work you love. You have the power to do that right now. Just wave the magic wand of your credit card over the Patreon page, and there you go!

Lightening Up for the Solstice: Everyday Magic, Day 959

Tomorrow the world turns over: our shortening days stop in their tracks, and the light begins lengthening those days for months to come. Even the dreaded month of February, out there on the near horizon, will be far brighter light-wise as our long nights tuck into themselves.

At the same time, this is a year I’ve been lightening up, not so much weight-wise (although certainly warranted by all those height-weight charts). I’ve taken a year-long unpaid leave from Goddard College, a place I love immensely but after 64 consecutive semesters of teaching there or elsewhere, I was ready for a break. I’ve just completed over 25 gigs — readings, talks, and workshops — to promote Miriam’s Well, my new-ish novel in many states (KS, MO, OK, WI, VT, NE, MN) and states of being. In further evaluating the many ways I make a living — “What do you do, Caryn?” “Do you have an hour?” — I’ve edited out work that’s too weighty in proportion to how it fits my callings, health, sanity, and need to make some moolah. Although our family is still grieving and will be for some time, the death of my beloved  mother-in-law also brings a little more mercy and light. And through two years of healing (still in progress) with my integrative physician, Dr. Neela Sandal, puzzling through anxiety issues with a great therapist, and guidance from other supportive humans and forces of nature, I’ve leapt into considerably better health which, as we well know, informs all else in a life.

So I have a lot of reason and reality to sense so much more light, both that bright blur, like right now in the sky emerging, and the easier to lift and carry kind of lightness. The sky we live in and the sky that lives in us will keep bringing us many manner of weather, change, surprise, and mystery, and of course, there is great beauty and discovery for us to traverse in the rich darkness and weightiness of life too. But for now, as the darkness and heaviness lifts some, I’m swimming in gratitude which itself is another kind of lightness.

The Hospitality of Writing: Everyday Magic, Day 951

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about hospitality in relationship to both writing and self-care. As someone who loves home (and also roaming widely), and making  welcoming spaces in groups, rooms, and my little heart, I realize that there’s an intimate connection between hospitality and the creative process. The more we can invite ourselves onto the page (with grace and tenderness), the more we can show up for our writing. Plus, showing up for our creative sparks is great training for being more present in our ever-shifting lives.

This led me to develop “A Leap Forward Writing Retreat” for Nov., 3, a day I welcome you to my home to write while having someone else (namely me) support you with a  mini coaching sessions, writing materials and resources to peruse, lovely spaces to perch, and all else I see as creativity hospitality, particularly food. We’ll enjoy healthy, and inviting food when we gather at 10 a.m. and get to know each other, share a bit about what writing we’re each planning to do, then head out to the wilds of the work. Of course, there’ll also be lunch, a chance to check back in with each other, and at the end of our day, something like a Kansas version of an English tea to talk discoveries and next steps.

As for ambling into the wilds, I welcome you into the indoor or and outdoor spaces where I can sit quietly, notebook or laptop nearby, and see what shows up on mysterious page or screen. This post includes photos of some perches for writing while you’re here. You’ll have lots of sky to help clear your mind and nearby woods to show you the details of the up-close and always-in-motion world. By early November, there shouldn’t be any annoying critters in the grasses, and weather-permitting we may even go on a little prairie walk with Ken (my husband and a prairie plant expert).

If a “Leap Forward Writing Workshop” speaks to you, more details here. Whether this works for you or not, please consider however you can bring greater hospitality to your writing, even if it’s just to create a lovely space, meal, or walk to support what wants to be created. After all, writing is a way of coming home to ourselves, so let’s come home to our writing in the most welcoming ways possible.

 

Working Hard on Not Working (So) Hard: Everyday Magic, Day 937

Usually, April, what T.S. Eliot called the cruelest month, is, but it’s also stunningly beautiful, a paradox for a working poet and a gal who, all too often, couldn’t say no. Because I make a hunk of my living from gigs — readings, workshops, talks, projects — and a good many poetry gigs are often ghettoized into April (aka Poetry Month), my Aprils were often overbooked. Not so coincidentally, I often was rocking a sinus infection that wouldn’t let up, a bout of migraines, and a heavy dose of insomnia during this time of the blossoming world ecstatic with life, the same world that inspires me to write poetry (and other things) in the first place.

For a good many years, I’ve been working hard at not working so hard, not just in April but in other months prone to get over-laden with too many yeses and not enough common sense. I can’t tell you how many times I looked at my calendar and realized that when I said yes to a three-week class, a half-day writing workshop, an online class, and a 600-mile round-trip talk (not to mention several volunteer gigs), I didn’t realize all happening within two weeks. “Stop hitting yourself,” we would joke as kids while repeatedly hitting ourselves, but the joke loses its humor when a woman is downing antibiotic, strong coffee, herbal wellness tabs, echinacea, and despite the trouble I have with sugar, a donut because “just fuck it” kicks in at such moments.

This year I’m pleased to report that April, as well as March and May, are spacious with time for 10 minute naps, perusing the New York Time, watching James Corbin’s crosswalk theater production of The Sound of Music three times (once while on hold with AT&T), and covering the bases of my work. I’ve also had the luxury and necessity of being outside more with the glimmering Redbuds and the dew-shining fields.

How I got here drew on the same obsessive planing that got me into this mess in the first place. With my therapist, friends, and on my own, I talked through, made charts of, analyzed late at night and too early in the morning, and fretted over what to say yes and what to say no to. Some of the no’s hurt. Some of the yeses were hard-won. In addition to my usual scheme of questions about how to make a decision based on if it’s mine, there’s a great team involved, it doesn’t hurt my health, and other factors (more of the advice I doled out for years without following it so well here), I worked the numbers. I vowed to keep myself to a certain number of events each month, and I looked at the actual income I would make versus the time involved in making it. I was astonished at how little some things I love doing actually bring in to pay the bills once I factor in preparation, arrangements, driving to and fro, and actually doing the thing itself. I also looked at how many free or nearly free things I do, none of which I regret, but which I need to cull to keep peace in the forest of my health and life.

Did I mention I’m also beginning the book tour for Miriam’s Well? Having driven myself crazy with things I’ve done to promote past books, I spent ample time studying what actually worked in the past and didn’t work. Driving to Oklahoma City and back was fantastic for seeing some beloved family members, who were the only ones who showed up to a reading I had booked. Paying some hundreds of dollars to do a blog tour for which I had to write 15 long posts or interviews with myself only to find a bunch of them posted on sites promoting romance or sci fi novels? Not such a great choice. I also decided to spread out my tour over 18 months since this book is heavy on the Jewish content, the number 18 (which is also the letter Chai) means luck and life in my religion, and mostly because such a wide swath of time means less at once. Because of not overbooking myself, I’ve been able to really focus on the launch events this Saturday without feeling too harried.

The work is just started, and as my friend Stephen reminds me, the road goes on forever. Also, there’s June, and let’s just say I didn’t do such a good job not overdoing it for June. Like making any change, it’s cha cha steps forward and back, plus some Marx-brothers-type tumbles into the ground. As I get older and realize I’m not so good at playing out the energizer bunny without having to pay the devil big-time, I’m committed to show up at the dance with more presence and health, and to stay home marveling at the ordinary a whole lot more too.