All posts by Angel

Productivity

No more goals

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Photo by Federico Stevanin at freedigitalphotos.net

I have spent much of my life in pursuit of “goals” and learning and using different productivity systems. They’re fascinating and beautiful and fill my head with whispered promises of riches and beauty in a future that is organized and perfect.

And they’re lies. They’re fantasies — beautiful, perfect, sad fantasies. And these fantasies come at an extremely high price for as long as my mind is focused on the beautiful, witty me in the future, I ignore the beautiful, witty me that exists now. I don’t see her. She pines away, trying desperately to get my attention. But I say, “No, you’re not worthy. Look at me in the future. She’s so much more beautiful and witty than you. All heads turn when she walks in the room and everyone quiets down to hear her tiniest word.” And I turn away from present me to gaze wistfully at the perfect future me that doesn’t even exist and never will. For, as long as I have goals and focus on the future, I will never be satisfied with the present, ever.

I’m done with goals. They are sad fantasies based on feelings of lack and inadequacy. And they take my focus away from the present. I’m blind and deaf to the beauty of this journey. It passes by me unseen, unheard, unappreciated… unlived.

I still want to learn to sew quilts. I still want to live a healthy lifestyle. I still want to write music with my husband. But instead of goals with completion dates and milestones and progress charts, I simply will live each step of the journey, each moment as it passes through my existence. Right now, I’m learning how to thread a serger. Will I ever actually make a beautiful quilt? Who cares. Right now, I’m enjoying the puzzle and challenge of a serger.

I may one day reintroduce goals within a very limited scope, but for now, they are tossed out the window. I’ve never truly lived in the present and, truthfully, I’m not very good at it. I’ve never been satisfied with the me right now just the way I am, and I have a sneaking suspicion that she’s pretty awesome and it’s time for me to get to know her.

It’s time to wake up.

Art, Hope, Productivity

Dream

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Photo by Tabetha Harrison

Every one of us has a chance to be heroic. Every one of us has been given the divine providence of an epic journey and a heroic life. And hidden within each soul there lay a map, given as a birthright and waiting to be discovered. This map is the color of golden light and all of the symbols on it are written in the esoteric language of the angels. Most of the map is shrouded in a veil of unanswered questions and unlived experience. It is at the same time both indecipherable and entrancing.

The map lays out our hero’s journey. The enigmatic symbols equate to actions and events, slowly taking place, one by one, as our life progresses and we come to understand their meaning only through experience. But there is a crossroads on the map, a question which absolutely no one else on the face of this planet can answer but you.

“Do I follow my calling?”

This calling is different for every person, but we all hear the distant voice in the wind, floating through our waking dreams. It calls us, incessantly, never giving us peace. Some folks, the lucky ones, follow this inner voice and find a peaceful and meaningful life. Others of us fight it, ignore it, run from it.

But then we dream, the haunting dream of dormant passion. Dreams are worthy of pursuit. To set a plan into place to achieve your dream is a worthy pursuit. Our dreams, when realized, enrich the world for everyone. Everyone benefits. Living your passion is to truly be alive, to be present and to be accountable.

I am not bound to win, but I am bound to be true.
I am not bound to succeed, but I am bound
to live up to what light I have.

Abraham Lincoln

Art

The First Step

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I’ve wanted to own my own business for years. It’s been a constant dream of mine, as constant as my dream of true love (which I did eventually find in my husband).

So I step on the path, saying to myself, “This time I’m going to do it. This time I’m going to work and create my own business. I have an idea. I have a capable competent business partner. I can do it!”

And then I sit at my desk, and I crumble. I crumble into tiny bits of defeated dust that blow away in the wind. My own negativity destroys me.

The old wisdom is to not listen to the naysayers. Surround yourself by people who support your creativity and dreams, and ignore those who would clip your wings with their words. But what if the most relentless and negative of all the naysayers is actually your own voice in your own head? What if you are your own enemy? How do you quiet the voice of fear, doubt and disbelief… especially when it’s so loud that its soundless screams drown out any positive thought?

I don’t know the answer to this riddle. Right now, I choose to continue to work towards my dreams with the cacophony of fearful and doubtful words as my companion. The work is slow as I am regularly derailed by the fear, but then I pull myself off the floor, dust myself off, and get back to work.

To believe in the worth of your work – to believe in the worth of yourself – is a constant battle for many people. And that’s why I write these blog entries. It is in finding our worth and sharing ourselves that this world will blossom. The battle is worth fighting for when you win, your victory will touch everyone around you, bringing light and hope to others still deep in the journey.

Hope

The Serendipity of Lice

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Yes, you read that correct: lice. I am grateful for lice.

I’m sure many people have many different reasons to be grateful for lice, but let me explain mine. My five-year-old son brought home lice at the end of his Pre-K year. I have two small children, so I had no delusions; I knew that lice would eventually show up in my life. And so they did that fateful day last year just as summer began.

Lice are probably one of the ugliest, nastiest, creepiest looking bugs on the planet. I knew we had lice, but I hadn’t accepted it yet. My head had been itching, and I had seen my son scratching his head, but I refused to admit anything. I was terrified of lice. Then the morning came when my son actually said out loud, “My head itches.” I had to look.

And there, crawling all over his head, was a terrible infestation of lice. Since I had let myself live in denial for so long, there were quite a few full-sized adults hatched and living in his hair.

I freaked out.

I properly freaked out.

Poisons terrify me, so the lice shampoos and prescriptions were not a choice. There was only one choice: shave our heads. No poison involved and lice killed instantly.

After my husband shaved our son’s head (my husband is mostly bald and has been shaving his head for years, so he had all the equipment and knowledge necessary for this operation), I told my husband to shave my head. He said, “Are you sure? You’re going to regret it.” But I had seen the lice fall into the sink as he shaved our son’s head, and I had seen the remaining lice crawling around his little bald head until my husband washed his scalp and removed all remaining lice. They were awful. It made my stomach turn. I said, “Just shave my head! Get rid of the lice!”

So my husband shaved my head. And I was bald. Any pretenses of beauty or femininity I may have had fell into the sink and washed away with the lice and my hair. As I looked at my bald reflection, I was mortified, frightened and really really sad. But the lice were gone.

Now, I had to go outside. I told my husband that if I didn’t go outside that day, I would spend the next month frightened and holed up in the house, waiting for my hair to grow back. So, being the wonderful man he is, he held my hand and we all went out as a family for a meal and a movie.

I hated it. I knew people were staring at me just as I would stare at someone with a mohawk or bright pink hair. I stood out and not in a pretty way. I looked weird. I hadn’t been that crushingly self-conscious since I was a teenager.

And each day, with my bald head, I went out and did my errands. And each day, I hated it.

But in the end, the overall experience was liberating and exhilarating. I had to face fear and embarrassment every day for a month or two until my hair started growing back. And the fear and embarrassment didn’t stop me from living or being or even being awesome. And I learned, in a very intimate manner, two very valuable lessons:

1)    Our looks do not make us amazing. Looks are incidental to our behavior, and behavior is what makes someone amazing.

2)    I can face fear. Bravery is not absence of fear; it’s acting in spite of fear. So even though I’m afraid, I can still make my feet move forward and go through the actions and make my will happen.

After my lice-induced baldness, I had the courage to face another fear. I’m 44 years old, and I’ve always wanted to learn violin. But I felt foolish walking into the lessons surrounded by all of the 8-year-olds and 10-year-olds who are also taking beginner violin lessons. I felt foolish and embarrassed.

But with my bald head, I had acted in spite of fear and embarrassment, and I now had the experience tucked under my belt. So I picked up my violin, and even though my face was bright red with embarrassment, I started taking lessons at 44 years old, the only adult among a sea of little kids. It was embarrassing, and it’s still embarrassing as I go to my lesson every week. But I act in spite of my embarrassment and I’m finally learning the violin.

So I’m thankful for the lice and I’m thankful for the bald head. It was not a fun experience, but it was an amazing experience.

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(Crossposted to: Life with Science)