RobinWrites!

It was one of those nights...

So it's mid-winter,  been dreary gray for a week that feels like forever, the bills have been stacked and re-stacked, sorted and re-sorted, the business that feels so promising ain't generating squat, and all the education, talent and passion in the world isn't coming close to filling ye old bank account.....

With heart and mind in stress-shreds, my head hits the pillow.  I semi-sleep in between flips and dream fragments, when suddenly I come to in my bed in my room - I think? Is my husband next to me? - check. All the windows, doors, furniture as I know it to be? - check. Still hazy, but certain of my locale, my attention is immediately drawn to - flash.......flash........a fuzzy pink circle of light flashing on the wall to my right. Wait - that's where the mirror is - is it a reflection? or is it coming from behind? Hard to tell since I'm not wearing my glasses.

And now I'm remembering...kind of dream-embering something.... something that came in that blip of dream just before -- didn't someone tell me I'd see this? And they told me just what to do ---- oh dear, what WAS it? It said it would flash five (? was it five? I think it was five) times - (oh no! how many times has it flashed?! I know I saw two, but what if I missed some?)  - and there it is again, that makes three -- this is so weird..... let's see - remember, remember - it said there would be a sound (what sound was it?) and just then a desperate howling begins outside and a few night birds "who-who" and squawk in an eerie chorus. The hair on my wrists stands straight up from the goose pimples running my arm span - remember..... remember..... (ugh, I don't remember!)... I'm supposed to do something?? what IS it? Read something, yes - but what? I can't even see without my glasses - and it's dark ....

What just took me 12 minutes to recount in writing actually all occurred in a moment (ok, maybe two moments). My familiar bed and room now had an aura of doom, a presence of evil. I'd somehow brought someone or something mysterious but clearly BAD through the portal of sleep to mess with me here - (or might it be the other way round? Maybe I took the dooms of the day into dreamland - ruining what might otherwise have been a dreamscape of golden fields and blue skies?) The only way, it seems, that I might un-do what I've done is to REMEMBER what it is I was told to do when this happened and do it, but is it already too late? Don't give up, remember, remember ......ahhhh, I'm supposed to read the writing on the wall. As if on a mission, I reach for the nightstand, put on my glasses, switch on the light, stare at the wall - the one with the mirror, waiting to see a map or message of some kind magically appear - taken off-guard now to be really and truly, all the way awake, sitting up in bed, the bright startling light erasing all evidence of fuzzy pink flashes .... HUH??!?

Turn it off, turn it off –what if I now missed the 5^th (and final?) flash?! – what if I disrupted the grand scheme of whatever I’m to do? Misery upon misery, what if I failed this quest? Oh, what was it they said would happen if I did not do as instructed? Shudder, sigh. All I know is it wasn't good. And, damn - I'm awake - this isn't even a half-way dream now, this is MY LIFE -- oh yeah, the gray day life full of incomplete projects and negative balances.

What to do when you don't want to be awake, don't want to think any of your thoughts, don't want to be HERE in this freaky place, but have no intention of leaving the seeming security of the cool sheet and heavy comforter --- AND you're afraid to go back to sleep? Wake someone else up into it, of course! And the person of choice just so happened to be making the sound of a chainsaw-in-heat right next to me.

Shake and whisper, “Hey honey, wake up?”

Loud, stinky night breath, exhale…..chain-saw inhale.

“Honey? Hello?  Please wake up!” Daytime volume with sense of urgency. Shaking his snoozing chin back and forth in my hands.

He rolls over and away, pulls the cover up, rhythmic snores uninterrupted.

Shoving and pummeling him now, voice on the verge, “You have to wake up! There’s something BAD going on in our house! Wake Up, up up!” I kick his shins and knee him in the hip, “Grrrrrrrrr – wake UUUUUPPPPP!!!”

His eyes roll partway up, like window blinds, and his eyeballs lower slowly into the slit. I peer into the open place, willing those pupils to SEE me, daring those lids to close on me again, holding my breath against the night odor, as I move my head closer and closer, till we nearly rub noses – I inhale, getting ready to tell my tale, and --- what do you know? The lids lower and, in rote unconsciousness, he buries his head under not one, but two pillows, and continues to sleep.

Ok, guess I’m on my own. Now what if there really were some robber who broke in? Let’s obsess about that a bit….

I call in angels and say prayers, surround myself with light and eventually sleep....only to be dreamatically re-summoned to wake state with an intense sense of urgency. Once again, I verify my locale – hubby, windows, furniture – check, check, check. This time, mega-alert for a sound. Last time, it was flashing light, this time, I’ve been instructed (couldn’t say by who or how, just know) to listen. Ears and all senses perked in anticipation (with a slight twinge of doubt) - and then --- KA-PLOOM, KA-PLOWie! POP POP! BANG – what, huh? Freaking fireworks? That – BLANG BOOM BAM – definitely sounds like fire – POP BLAST BLOOM- works! Revisit my reality, pinch myself – check, it hurts (ow) – phone where I left it on its charger tells me it’s  3:30 am.  What the heck? KER-BOOM, BANG! POP! PLOWIE!  Ok, sorry Mr. Deep Sleep Man, this time you ARE GOING TO WAKE UP! Other consciousness is not an option!

Bop him on the head with the pillow, once, twice, three times. Shake shake – “Wake Up, wake up, WAKE up, WAKE UP – YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP NOW!”

Jiggle, tickle, shove.  

BOOM! POP! Ping ping ping – Ka-Blam!

“DO YOU HEAR THAT?! Fireworks! Those are fireworks! Wake up and hear the fireworks! I NEED YOU! WAKE UP!”

He rouses a level or two, eyes open, staring out the big window, equally baffled by the random chorus of firecrackers. They go on for I-don’t-know-how-long. We lie and listen, stunned. When it finally ends, I’m on auditory buzz, bound and determined to get some night comfort from my soulmate.

Story in blips: “So, there was this flashing light….and a message…. and howling, who-ing…. Freaking out….. something bad… so scared… tried to wake you….snore snore…. back to sleep… wake…. fireworks… you heard them, too, right?”

Affimative nod. Shew – good, I’m not crazy. But then? THEN he says,  "Well, do you think maybe, whatever it is, just wants you to write a newsletter for COPS?” And the snoring begins again.

What is going on? I need to pee, but convinced the childhood evil-pirate-man might lie in wait under the bed, there is no way I’m getting up now. In-between prayers, I systematically relax my muscles, beginning with big toes.  Somewhere between shoulders and neck, I fall back into the mysterious dark dream…. the dream that ultimately wakes me to my own voice screaming, my own hands frantically grabbing for and shaking my husband…. my own husband finally all the way awake, preparing to jump out of bed and beat up who-or-what-ever is traumatizing his wife. The intensity of waking completely erases the dream that preceded it; I have no idea what happened. He holds me. He listens.  I listen to my own disjointed tale, more agitated and confused than ever....

I'll be back to process & ponder, but in the meantime..... Have you ever had one of those nights?

Connecting Dreamer Dots

Remember only this one thing,” said Badger.
“The stories people tell have a way of taking care
of them. If stories come to you, care for them.
And learn to give them away when they are
needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more
than food to stay alive. That is why we put these
stories in each other’s memory. This is how
people care for themselves.”
—Barry Lopez, Crow and Weasel

Well, 25 days into 2010 and I continue to process and ponder life learnings that transpired in the events of 2009... is that wrong? ;-)

I focused a lot on dreaming last year. And I've learned fascinating, mind-blowing things about how to remember and interact with the dreams themselves. I've seen first-hand how dreams respond to intentions, answer questions, provide clues to divine mystery, to personal creativity and collective consciousness, not to mention deep healing of the soul. And, yes, I'm longing to share about ALL of that, but perhaps the most miraculous morsel of my dreaming-quest is the PEOPLE, connections and relationships that have emerged because I tapped in.

First, I connected with dream-friends online. These weren't people I knew and then we formed a group to share our dreams; no, this was a group of individual dreamers from all over the globe, longing to learn from dreams. So, unlike the majority of our culture where we know people and have no clue what they dream, in this online group, I knew their screenname and dream-themes, but if I passed them on the street, I wouldn't even know it.  The online anonymity combined with dream-sharing makes for a special brand of intimacy. * (A new online Conscious Dreaming, Conscious Living forum begins today, Mon. Jan 25. It's moderated by author and dream ambassador extraordinaire, Robert Moss, and hosted by Spirituality & Health magazine. Learn more and register for the 8-week course here.)I was having intense insights and breakthroughs, which led me to a live workshop (in Mystic, no less) to meet the teacher, Robert Moss, and other students, face to face. While there, we schemed to bring Robert and his workshop, "The Healing Power of Story" to Cincinnati in June. I devoted myself to finding folks to spend the early days of summer learning with him. Filling a workshop on Dreaming and Storytelling in our conservative city during the pathetic economy was a challenge, to say the least. It truly seemed as though each participant who found their way was *meant* to be here.

First to register was Susan, a local psychologist & teacher, shamanic coach, and profound dreamer - a brilliant and accomplished woman with intense life experiences & stories as well as loads of numinous energy. She had read one of Robert Moss' books and initiated contact with me via his website. As a coordinator, it was such a relief to have a name on the list and a check in hand! As a student of life, I was jazzed to have this opportunity to spend a weekend with someone as well-traveled, educated, spiritual and articulate as Susan. Now to find others ...

My sister-in-law, Diane, signed on - I didn't have to guile or guilt her into it or anything! I doubt she'd have taken this workshop if we weren't related, but in a way, it was a blessing to give her the familial excuse to do something her practical side may have dismissed. We adore one another, but are both so busy, we rarely spend chunks of time together outside family events. And here we'd have an entire weekend! ;-)

Now there was a dreampal on the forum who clearly traveled the globe. Her dreams, always colorful and enticing, intrigued me; her waking life made reference to exotic locales and worldly adventures. We had an online chat regarding a dream and inadvertently discovered that she was originally from Ohio. As we clarified further, we were astounded to find that we had grown up in the same community and graduated from the same high school!! She was pumped to learn that Robert Moss would be in her hometown, and, since it was her mother who 1st encouraged her to heed dreams and since  her mother still lives in town, she wrote out a check and gifted her mother the workshop for Mother's Day.

Her mother's name is Mary Faith. Her daughter and I (via brief email exchanges) realize that Mary Faith also graduated from our alma mater, Greenhills-- in the 70's. Hmmm..... well, that's when my husband's older siblings graduated - maybe she knows the Kissels, the Burkets, the Brookbanks?

My query is relayed to Mary Faith and the 1st email I receive from her says that she is eager for the workshop - oh, and she seems to recall a dark-haired girl with a big, friendly smile and laugh -  thinks her name was Diane Kissel?!? She's pretty sure they were in the same class, all through school.

Ummmm..... yeah, that's my sister-in-law! The one who just registered to do this workshop, too. So, tapping into the dreams of a wild young adventuress online leads to reuniting two school-pals-now-grandmothers in one Ohio suburb. Cool. And registration is up to three (plus me).

Once again, upon the forum, I read a dreamer's dream .... In her dream, she traveled  a street - a street I know. What? Here in this online community of faceless people from all over the world, this dreamer is wandering Calhoun Street? - the one where my 1st real boyfriends' college dorm was at UC? The one that I took back home following every obstetrician appointment when I was pregnant? I know this street  -- and it ultimately paved the way to meeting Kathy.

Prior to the Calhoun connection, all I knew of Kathy was that she was a friend of Terron. Terron, I only knew via the dream forum. I knew he carved wooden spoons. I knew he wrote lovely stories. I knew he was kind-hearted and real. And I knew he lived on Cape Breton Island. Imagine my surprise to find that his friend, Kathy, lives near me! With encouragement from both Terron and myself, Kathy made her way to the workshop where she wrote and shared a beautiful memoir of her father.

And there are others (Carol Rose, Karen, Fanchon, Rob, Justin, Heidi & Andy, Nancy, Bonnie, Laura....), and of course, each have their own beautiful, inspiring stories, before, during and post-workshop. What I find remarkable is that not so long ago, I did not know any of the people I write of -- and today, each holds a sacred spot in my heart.

You're right, I don't get "it"

"Reality denied for one is false accusation for the other." ~Deborah Tannen

Another major lesson of 2009 would surely have to be a deepening of comprehension in my total lack of comprehension, when it comes to sibling-hood. I am an only child. People ask what it's like to be an only child - I don't know, it's all I've known, so it's just like it is, you know? It's got its perks - you get all the attention. It's got its drawbacks - you get all the attention. Having all the focus and playing all the roles (an only child is the oldest, the middle child, and the youngest when it comes to birth order) can make a kid self-conscious. My parents were determined that I not be "spoiled" so I was never over-indulged the way people tend to stereotypically think of only children. Who knows if I'd still be an introverted codependent dreamer if I had sibs? Maybe, maybe not.

The thing is I entered into parenthood with certain assumptions about kids and family and all that. We all do - I've just had opportunity lately to examine mine. As with most things, I had an idealistic, pollyanna-ish fantasy about how those relationships (are supposed to) work. I pretty much focused on the shiny, happy, holding-hands imagery of siblings - you know, the big sister who teaches you how to put on mascara - the goofy little brother who eases the tension with dumb jokes; being there for one another no matter what -  like the Partridge Family or Eight is Enough.  And, frankly, when my kids were little and I was married to their dad, we looked and acted a lot like that. Sadly, until it all burst, I didn't realize we were livin' in a bubble. (I've spent a LOT of my life inside that bubble - no wonder I get disoriented in reality).

Even once the bubble of my fantasy family popped, I still had sit-com lenses about my kids and their interactions. Not that I expect them all to get along all the time - I'm not that naive! - I just do my best to encourage living by the Golden Rule and pray that they'll sort it out eventually.

When they do get into it and I try to help, the "You don't get it, Mom. You never had brothers and sisters" (with much huffing, eye-rolling, and indignation) is guaranteed. This has always annoyed me - No, I never had siblings, so yeah you're right, I don't get "it" (whatever "it" is)..... but I DO know how people ought to treat one another - and shouldn't that be easier when you're related? (See? Told ya -Pollyanna, all the way!) I am probably the least judgmental, condemning person I know, but I could never fathom how any family members could choose to "not speak" to one another over extended periods of time. As a self-proclaimed professional peacemaker, in my bubblicious world, that is just NOT an option.

Well, this past year my daughters intentionally avoided one another and did not speak for the majority of the summer. At ages 16 and 18, they had a misunderstanding and difference of style and opinion that resulted in months of unresolved conflict. I wrote about it in detail at the time and I'm not going to hash out the particulars again here now, but suffice it to say, as the benevolent Mama-bird, this was a real test for me. I don't believe in taking "sides" - I've always been someone who sees and respects the nuances of all sides - and I especially don't believe in siding with one child vs. another -I'm their mother and no matter what, I champion the self-expression, truth-telling, happiness and fulfillment of all of my kids. Still, when the self-expression is "I don't even want to see her," and the truth-telling is, "You always take her side," it makes my neutral ground tricky to stand on, to say the least. 

I did manage to uphold my own values during this time, but it required me to expand. I wanted each daughter to know that I am always on her side - that even when they are at odds, those differences don't have to change what she can expect from me.

Of course, the way I learned this was by completely screwing it up first. At the outset of the rift, I felt it was my place to do whatever I could to help them come together and communicate (I am their mother, after all!). In that vein, I tried to help each girl understand the other and pleaded with each to approach the other in a spirit of resolution. I spoke a lot of truth about the past and how it looks through my mamabird view.

I was dumbfounded when, instead of helping, my heartfelt pleas actually intensified and further dramatized the entire (ridiculous) situation.  It seemed my every word was mis-construed, every loving intention only deepened the divide. After my valiant efforts, not only was my 16 year old refusing to talk to her big sister, but she didn't want to see me, either. Aaargh! Very perplexing.

I just didn't get it. And I couldn't get that I didn't get it, because usually, I am pretty darn intuitive and insightful. More than not, when it comes to relationship dynamic stuff, I do get it... so, I kept coming up with theories and psychological reasons that would explain what was wrong , what was missing, who was to blame, why things were so dysfunctional - and there may be some real pearls of wisdom in each of my little hypotheses - but none of it made any difference - it all remained unresolved - (which partially explains my previous Ponder & Process post on Patience, eh?).  I can deal with "unresolved" fairly well when I understand what's going on..... but this? I just didn't GET IT!!!  - which made letting it be that much more of a challenge.

Sometimes you just don't get what you don't get - this was one of those times for me. Thankfully, somewhere in the midst of this messiness, my mom happened to hear a book talk on NPR and she shared it with me. The author is Deborah Tannen, the book You Were Always Mom's Favorite! Sisters in Conversation Throughout Their Lives. The title alone clued me in --- ohhhh, you mean sisterhood itself comes with a sense of competition? Comparing and measuring are a natural, inherent part of the equation? Hmmm.... yes, actually, that makes sense. Ohhhhh, you mean the sister relationship is fraught with all sorts of quirky built-in issues and dynamics that pretty much apply to sisters everywhere throughout history? Hmmm.... well, of course - this all fits....but I did not KNOW that - I really and truly was clueless. Yes, I may understand what it is to be 16 and a girl, and I may have a profound maternal grasp of each girl and her personality traits -  I may even have a glimmer of insight that comes with maturity, but I don't have an inkling what it is to go through this life having or  being a sister. 

Or, as the kids told me all along, "Mom, you just don't get IT."

Right you are.

And recognizing and admitting my complete ignorance has helped immensely - ahhh, the gentle peaceful  freedom that comes with surrender. Once I got that I can never "get" their reality, ironically enough, I began to get a much more realistic perspective. I was able to distinguish between the things I (as their mother, after all) could and could not do - what might be helpful and how my previous approach might feel, if I were in her shoes. Luckily, I had sorted through much of this by the time I heard the angry, disdain-full voice state, "Mo-om, you always try to make everything better. I don't want you to make this better." 

"I can respect that," I was able to say. "This is between the two of you and you will work it out your way. If you want my help, I'm always here."

NO, I don't get what it is to be a sibling - observing all five of our kids is probably the closest I'll get - though I'd love to hear your stories and experiences of sibling-hood to help clue me in.

And these kids? Pshaw! (Eye roll, huff, sigh) They don't get "it," either - they have no clue what it is to be a parent - but someday (in the far future!!), I hope they will.

Oh, and, resolution or no, the girls are back to talking, texting, and doing silly sister stuff again, and that makes Mama happy.

Ponder & Process: Reunion

She knew one thing embarking on the year 2009 - come August, her graduating class would celebrate its 25 year reunion.

What she didn't know (for certain) was whether or not she would attend. She wasn't so sure high school connections were something she was much interested in kindling. Still, although her class of 1984 had not regularly reunioned, she had managed to consistently attend the every-5-year reunion for the class of 1982. In fact, their 20th reunion marked a turning point of her life, in that she attended it with her 1st husband, during a rocky (if yet hopeful) time in their marriage. Five years later, she attended the same class's 25 reunion with her second husband. Two husbands, both graduated from the same school the same year. Talk about awkward. If she survived THAT... (and natural childbirth...and running two marathons), then by God, she could do this!

Being a writer, she thought this whole reunion setting fiasco might just make a compelling setting for her novel or screenplay. She learned and changed a lot during those 5 years -- and the drama? - ha ha ha <evil laugh> -- while it sucked to live through it, there was no denying that it could definitely entertain a crowd....

And so, with her writer/storyteller mission at hand, the debating about whether to go or not go seemed pretty laughable. The writer must go where the story can unfold -- and she must pay attention.

A choice clearly made has an opportunity to begin changing things.... From the time she sent her check in, put her name on the "Attending" List, classmates from 1984 began appearing everywhere - in dreams and email, in grocery stores and coffee shops -- but most auspiciously, on the one and only Facebook. Whoa. Suddenly, all those folks who seemed so daunting in the highschool hallways years ago were Facebook "Friends." Months before the event itself, she was catching up with photos and memories, learning who lived where, who married who, who divorced who, who was doing what.... She LOVED this finger-on-the-keyboard tapping into the safe end of reuniting. Truly, Facebook added an element of connection that eased anxiety and upped anticipation for something as traumatic as a 25 year HS Reunion.

The reunion weekend itself was a high energy blur of recognizing, remembering, and re-connecting. She recognized how much she had changed and grown; she remembered how frightened and intimidated she used to feel in the presence of these very people - in the presence of ALL people - and was so pleased to have an experience where that fear didn't have all her attention - instead, she could attend to the amazing gathering of very real people with whom she had survived adolescence. She re-connected deeply with some that, if not for the event and her willingness to be there, she may never have truly known again.....

 


 

And, that is the serious-side, the teasing up the lessons of the year angle, the ponderings and processings of one chick who mustered up the guts to revisit the people of her past.... One day, she may just surprise us all with a witty comedic glimpse into those other reunions and the life that happens in-between.....

Ponder & Process: Patience

Pondering and processing are favorite activities of mine - probably to a fault. But, hey, tis the season, right? We can make all the resolutions and set as many goals as we want, but I have to think that such practices can only be augmented by taking time to review where we've been and what we learned while there.


So, I'm taking inventory of 2009 - trying to avoid overly scrupulous nit-picky things and bring the bigger picture into view - what did I learn? How did I bump into the lesson? What will I do with it now? Stuff like that.


I learned a bit about patience, I'd say. Patience with myself, that is. Or maybe it's acceptance? They seem to go together, at least when it comes to certain things, like getting off my own case. What did I learn about it, you ask? Hmmm... that's a good question - what DID I learn about patience and acceptance? Actually, I have to say "learnED" (past tense) doesn't seem quite right - see, when you're as patient and accepting as I am (now), you know that you're just never done learnING (present progressive tense) - Haha! I guess I've come to understand that even when I can't see and don't feel like I'm doing what I'm supposed to or achieving what I think I should or making much of a difference at all, when I look back, I can see that I actually am doing some stuff (other than laundry) - I am making (some) progress.

It's kind of like kids' growing - when you're with 'em all the time (or if you just so happen to BE the kid), you just don't notice getting taller (until none of the clothes fit), the baby cheeks slimming, the hair getting longer -- it all just looks pretty much like it did the day before...which isn't so different than how it looked the week before - you know what I mean. So, I tend to be like a kid in a hurry to see some tangible evidence (right NOW please) that the way I'm spending my days is positively impacting the planet in a meaningful way. But they don't give out prizes for keeping your kids clean and fed or being there to talk them through a homework problem. There's no paparazzi for making beds, running with the dog, showing up at church or answering email.

But I can see that my kids know they have a Mom who puts them first, and they have a safe, special place where they can always come home. My husband knows I love, trust and treasure him. I feel completely loved. I am growing ever closer to God. I have found my voice and am increasingly willing to have it heard. Honestly, five years ago, I could not have said any of those things.... So, even though one day seems to feel pretty much like the one before and many of my projects, visions, and aspirations remain incomplete (if started at all), I must be doing something with my time to have made these true, right?  And with this comprehension, I become that much more patient and accepting of myself and everyone else just as we are, right here, right now.

Well, that took more words than I'd first expected (good thing I'm so patient - ha!), so I reckon this 2009 Ponder & Process Review will be....Continued. ;-)

Feeding my Hungry Soul

 

Photo by (my amazing daughter) Mallory Matson of LiveinLove Photography

This is a quick list of things that nourish my soul.....

coming home...

hearing a true "I love you"...

finding the "just right" card/message/trinket for giving...

giving for no reason

forgiving  - the moment I let go

a-ha's

real

encouraging someone

connecting heart dots

indelible moments

unexpected adventures

getting lost and being found

salt air, ocean breezes, feet sinking in the sand on the shoreline

flying

anticipation

car dancing

green olives stuffed with bleu cheese

crab legs squeeze of lemon melted butter

artichoke hearts

the smell of onions and garlic, sauteeing

clouds in my coffee, clouds in my coffee

finding cloud shapes, making up cloud stories

laughing for no reason,

ho ho ha ha ha ba ha ha ha ha ha HA HA HA HA tee hee :-)

random snorts

deer sightings

sycamore, beech, and willow trees

inhale, exhale

sssssstttttrrrreeeeetchingggggggggggg

silly socks

rainbows, butterflies, swings, slides

tree climbing, hanging upside down

changing seasons

libraries

family gatherings

popcorn at the movies

running alone with my thoughts

turning up the volume and singing along

wordplay

my husband's hands

my children's trust

the way Hope doggie tucks her head neath the crook of my elbow until I pet her

remembering

playing

teasing winks ;-)

silly for silly sake

cool pillows

snuggling, spooning

orgasmifying fulfillation

made-up words

the owl whooo in the middle of the night

the sky

lists that could go on forever....

....coming home

Quick - What nourishes your soul?

Write, not Right

Here it is, the infamous day of reckoning - the start of a new year. I, for one, am all for fresh new starts. I am a fan of endings and beginnings, of external reasons to review, take inventory, clarify, modify, clean up, take stock, strategize, vision, view, expand, contract, define -- all that - it's all good. I tend to think, however, that there is a "right" way that I (and everyone) "should" do that, which then paralyzes me, because what if I do it "wrong"? Then I may as well not do it at all -- which, as I said, paralyzes me - stuck. in. a. fuzzy, undefined, not right or wrong rut.

Speaking of defining, let's just stop a sec and define that word...

rut (noun): a long deep track made by the repeated passage of the wheels of a vehicle  FIGURATIVE a habit or pattern of behavior that has become dull and unproductive but is hard to change.

So, on my quest to climb out of one of my personal ruts (the one where I don't post on my blog because I am afraid I have nothing to say that hasn't already been said better), I am just going to follow my own blog title and tagline for a change (that is, "ROBINWRITES! Revealing life one word at a time") instead of the title and tagline that flash in-between the lines of my goofy editor/perfectionist/self-critiquing writer mind (that might be, "ROBINHASNORIGHTTOWRITE! Unless she has it all figured out, polished, perfected, deep, meaningful, poetic, witty, wise, and ready to bring peace and love to all") Ha ha ha! Hey, I made myself laugh - now, THAT is funny Sometimes putting the truth into a sentence is so enlightening! May it set me free.

As well, I seem to have compiled some irrational laundry list of rules for what I ought to write here, there, everywhere. For instance...

• my stream of consciousness "morning pages" need their own (handwritten) journal in which I dump the blatherings that distract me from my true potential a la Artist Way...
  
• my dreams need their own journal in which I capture the detailed quests of each night, then sort and glean lessons of our collective and my own sub-conscious...
• my personal blog ought to include updated, magnificent photos of the beauty that inspires me and be filled with fun and fulfilling stories of me learning lessons, as well as tracking the ages and stages of development of the amazing family of peoples that surround me....
• I should write a poem every day (a good one at that)....
• my Laugh&Dream blog should be filled with links to compelling evidence for the benefits of Laughter and Dreaming for social evolution AND I aspire to include personal a-ha's and experiences from the depths of my being that will touch your very soul, giving you reason to connect with the JOY just waiting within.

Along with these self-expectations for my own writing, I honestly believe I ought to...

(a) pound out a good 20 hours toward my novel each week,

(b)consistently Tweet and FB insightful, useful status updates worthy of "re-tweet" and "Like" from Followers and Friends

(c) strategize, create and write marketing pieces for COPS Protective Services (because they really do sell amazing products to protect and serve)

(d) answer all my email promptly.....

No wonder I am at the computer all the freaking time, but never feel like I accomplish anything!

So I am going to try just spewing for awhile, right here, sorting through my own stuff on my own page, keeping track of how all that is going for me and what I'm finding useful toward the goal of getting out of this writing rut. And you are welcome to read it, if you want -- and, you don't have to....

This year, though, the first thing I do is give myself permission to write not right....or maybe that's write, not right. Or both. Yes. ;-)