Intentions for 2012

Each year around New Year's, there is a load of talk about resolutions and fresh starts.  I think there was one year, back in '84 or so, that I resolved to stop biting my fingernails.  To date, I think it is the only resolution that has been 100% successful (I'm sure you'd be grossed out and then relieved to also know that I even stopped biting my toenails that year).  I have always assumed that resolutions are an attempt to fix a problem, to find a solution to some maladaptive way of life. 

This year, I've decided that I'm not willing to set myself up for failure.  Instead, I developed some intentions for 2012 that will help me continue to grow as a person, and to be a source of positive growth for the evolutionary path of living things.  One of the things that I like about the idea of intentions is that it eliminates an 'all or nothing' assumption and softens goals to make them reachable by taking steps in a direction of growth, personally and globally.

What are my intentions?  In a nutshell, my goal is to reach a higher level of mindfulness.  How are my actions each moment, each day, each week, and each year affecting the world around me?  Am I making conscious choices that promote growth and love, or am I, at times, sending out negativity that leads to sabotage (for myself or others)?  Over the last year I have become keenly aware that my own thoughts have a profound impact on my environment and the people in it.  Am I questioning automatic thought patterns that reflect negativity?  Do I model behaviors that reflect the kind of people that I want my children to become?  What am I doing to make this world a better place to live?  

Sometimes I wonder if I conveniently 'forget' that my actions are always affecting something, somewhere else outside of myself and really it becomes an issue of paying more attention to the greater good of the whole and less attention to my own ego.

My word for 2012:  Mindful

How will I know that I am steering in the direction of these intentions?
At the end of each day, I will write down something that I intentionally did to reach for mindfulness.  It maybe one simple sentence, a couple of sentences, or a story about the transformation of my thoughts and actions along with the subsequent effect on myself and those around me.  As simple as an intentional interruption in my thought patterns to see a situation from another point of view, or a constructive critical view of my ego's desires and impulsive nature.

My 'Mindful Journal' is ready for its first entry, a copy of this blog post as a reminder of its birth.

May your reflections on the new beginnings of 2012 lead you to wonderful places!

A Titch of Writing

My aspirations to write have led to a whole lot of 'thinking' about writing and a complete absence of actual time spent with pen to paper.  As I read novels to my class, I am constantly dissecting the structure and layout of the text in an effort to understand how the 'engine' of the story actually works.  My favorite part of a book comes on the first page.  What did the author do in order to hook me as a reader.  What was on sale during this first page that makes me want to return to its pages over and over again?

Tonight I decided to spend 20 minutes trying to write an opening of a story that I might, as a reader, want to come back and continue to read.  I honestly haven't thought about what might happen following this first page, so it is not necessarily a story in progress but is instead, an exercise for me to see how the writing flows.  Where do I get stuck?  What does my mind want to do in terms of vocabulary and structure?  Where in the HELL do these thoughts come from?  I'm trying to pay attention to a lot of things at the same time.  Like any skill, writing takes practice.  This is the first formal assignment that I gave myself and here is the result.  My hope is that I can look back on this in a month, six months, or a year from now and find things that I would change because of the hours I will surely spend practicing and learning the trade. 

Page 1 of an unknown and unwritten book...

When they uncovered the floor tiles, one by one, they discovered a vast mass of nothingness underneath, devoid of color or shine, depth or contrast, a complete absence of all things that are describable.  A deep feeling of longing saturated their bodies, a strong magnetic pull. Involuntarily, their bodies took several steps forward until they reached that pivotal line where floor meets eternity and then the girls stepped off and began drifting down at a slow and graceful pace.  They glided past a whole lot of emptiness and neither saw nor heard any signs of life as they descended further and further into what felt like it could be inside the earth.  Sima reached out her hand to Roe in an effort to feel a bit grounded and also to touch something familiar..

“How far have we fallen, um, glided?” Roe asked.

“I can’t tell.  Maybe three stories, maybe fifty.  Where are we?” replied Sima.

“Are you scared?  I mean, is this real?  This can’t be real, right?”

Their hearts pounded louder and louder like the beat of rhythmic drums as they began to realize that, although they had no idea how or why, their lives may never be the same again.

“I think something must have happened at our tree.  Did we do something?  Are we dreaming?  Those birds.  They did something to us.  I don’t know how or what they did but they did something,” Sima mumbled in a confused and soft whisper.

Silence crept over them as they continued to descend further and further into the nothingness that was their surrounding.  Thoughts rushed through each of their minds and those, although inaudible to each other, were the only voices they heard.

There Is No Separation Between Ants and Elephants…

I've longed to see what it was like to have a couple of hours off work while the kids were at school. Take a stab at this whole writing thing and delight in the feeling of coming alive. My car drove the kids to school and I, then, immediately thought about a place I hadn’t been since I was a little girl. This is a place where I would come with my dad on Saturday mornings, on the Saturday mornings when he decided not have Winchell’s donuts waiting for us when we awoke. This is a place that has a distinctly delicious coffee smell and a croissant that has no competition. It IS the essence of all croissants. I remember, just like watching him eat the potato chips that curl on top of themselves, the look of love on my dad’s face when he pulled the doughy center out and let it melt away in his mouth. Pure bliss and joy is what I saw and is the face that floats in my memory.

I sit here and relish in the view out the second story window as I watch cars pass by, knowing that my dad is sitting right across from me. He is leaning back in his chair, sipping his coffee and eyeing the book that I brought with me, Writing Down the Bones, by Natalie Goldberg. He gave me a copy of this book almost twenty years ago and told me that he thought it was a staple for any aspiring writer. I crunched through the first bites of my croissant and began to read. Right when I got to that chewy center, I saw the words, ‘There is no separation between ants and elephants. All boundaries disappear.” In this way, today, this morning, right now, he is speaking to me. “There is no boundary between life and death,” is what he is saying.

I sit here with my dad and eat our favorite croissant and sip on the coffee that kept him coming back weekend after weekend over two decades ago. These walls are talking and they are telling me that this is my time. Despite the passage of time and the wrinkles I see on my face in the reflection of my computer screen, this is the right time, the perfect time. Let the writing begin!

“Cheers to that!” he bellows emphatically, and suddenly I see him drinking a glass of wine.