“I mean, I just worry… I don’t think about what I want, I just worry about what might happen to me and then figure out how to keep those things from happening.”
“…becoming who you want to be is just like anything else. It takes practice. It requires belief that one day, you’ll wake up and be a natural at it.” Alison Espach, The Wedding People
This whole book was a roller coaster for me, and this was a good year for me to read it. I’m glad it came out when it did.
I live most of my life bouncing between these two goals:
Throwing all my energy into doing what I can to avoid bad things like losing my job (and thus my insurance and all the things I rely on my paycheck to cover) or death
Creating a life that actually feels worth living
I suspect it’s the same for a lot of people.
For the most part, I can trace my best days to the ones when my focus is on more creative aspirations than when I’m just trying to elbow my way through it. The energy required is about the same – I don’t tend to half-ass things, even when they’re not technically my passion – but the reward is far greater when I can see a tangible path toward the life I imagine to be ideal.
Imagine, because I haven’t actually lived it yet. I’m not quite who I want to be when I grow up. I’ve gotten fleeting tastes of the good life and my ideal self but have yet to make either my standard.
It’s a life surrounded by books and bookish people/events. It definitely starts later in the day than my current schedule usually does. It involves occasional travel, but it’s more about creating a life I don’t need a vacation from.
My future self is a person whose default is grace and generosity of spirit (and also resources, as long as we’re wishing for things). She is curious and has the time and space to drop everything for a good story. She is a solid but soft place to land for those who need it. However, when she invites people in, she lets them sort out their own feelings about whoever else shows up rather than doing their emotional labor/conflict management for them (I think this is one of the lessons I’m learning this year).
I love planning for this future self and the life I want for her. I hope they’re both possible, and I hope they’re everything I have imagined them to be.
I’ve gotten a lot of advice on how to take it easy this year. Most of it was wisdom I specifically sought out, whether in reading or asking questions of people who had either gone through what I was going through or at least seemed like they were doing something right.
When I read this quote, it punched me in the gut a little. It was gentle enough for me to be amenable to it but strong enough for me to take notice.
One of my core values is curiosity. I love learning new things. I am fascinated by perspectives and experiences different from my own. I aim to start conversations by being open to explanations and trying to understand rather than by assuming I already know their intentions and have decided they’re the worst.
This practice has served me well. I am more liberal than the average Democrat (Two-party system? More like two sides, same coin) and I live in Texas. I have a lot of…opportunities…to listen to people with whom I disagree. And with many people (not all – some people really are just assholes full of hate), when I listen to them, they let their guard down enough to listen back. And we both learn that we have more goals in common than we thought. They no longer see me as the enemy they imagined me to be.
Changing hearts and minds, one radical conservative at a time.
An echo chamber (wherein you surround yourself only with people who agree with you) is not generally conducive to this practice. My gut reaction to Dr. Walker-Barnes’s advice was immediately no.
Then the curiosity kicked in.
As I read on, I thought about all the places that I carve out in my life where I feel safe. Places where every word isn’t a constant struggle and every nuance doesn’t have to be analyzed and defined. They still challenge me and make me think (because I like that) but they at least give me a soft and loving place to do it.
I see this all over my environment. For example, the picture above was taken in my office at work. I have
Twinkle lights (that need new batteries but still – they’re there)
Pretty bottles and rocks
A nice mix of inspiring nonfiction, fiction, and poetry
Fun stuff for play and art
A visual echo chamber, if you will.
The more I read, the more I wondered what it would be like if at least one of my social media networks was an echo chamber. What if, when I opened the app, I wasn’t immediately bombarded with every snarky, petty dig someone could think to take at people who are doing what I consider to be good in the world? What would that be like?
So I tried it on Instagram. Mass unfollowing. That alone was pretty cathartic.
The days that followed, though? Heavenly. There is so much wonderful going on out there. Did you all know this? I’m a little sad that I missed out on it for so long.
It’s still not all shiny happy news, but it’s very grounding. It’s a reminder that I’m not alone (because in Texas, I often feel very, very alone).
How do you feel about echo chambers? What purpose (if any) do they serve in your life?
Paying closer attention to my writing life reminded me that I may need business cards at some point. I’m not quite satisfied with this copy but it’s close.
For the past 12 weeks, I have been experimenting with the concept of a DIY MFA. I don’t have any career aspirations that actually require an official MFA, but I know that there’s so much that I could learn from such a program that would be beneficial to me as a writer, and I am a big fan of lifelong education. I essentially wanted to outline my own class to take each semester, leaning into the wisdom of others and all the rich resources that are out there to improve my writing. Each semester would be 12 weeks long, giving me three courses a year plus a nice break between them.
So I read a ton of the background info on the DIY MFA website (see link above), created a sort of MFA 101 syllabus (gosh, I’ve missed this part of teaching so much), and jumped right in.
There are definitely challenges with trying to teach yourself something that you don’t already know. There are also delightful discoveries.
If I give myself an honest assessment, I would have made a B in the class I created if I had taken it for real from an accredited university. I accomplished the main goal, which was to build strategies for incorporating the following four elements of a traditional MFA into every week:
Writing (putting words on the page to improve craft, creativity, and productivity)
Reading (learning both what works and what doesn’t from the examples of others)
Community (collaborating with writers/artists, connecting with an audience, and/or submitting/performing work)
Education (listening, watching, and reading things to learn how to do the previous three elements better from people who excel at them)
But I didn’t come close to finishing all the things I had outlined to do. I loaded myself up with articles to read and podcasts to listen to (the plan was to mimic a studying/lecture situation), and I made extravagant goals that, looking back, pretty much ignored the fact that I have two jobs and am not a full-time grad student.
I gave myself a ton of resources to get through and activities to complete every week. It didn’t look like that long of a list when I started, but about seven weeks in, out of curiosity, I added up the time it would take to get through the resources outlined in that week’s plan. Almost 11 hours of podcasts alone, which are not my favorite media by a long shot. Before I started this project, I might have listened to one or two podcast episodes a month. And suddenly I expected myself to dive into 11 hours of them a week? Bless my heart. No wonder I was overwhelmed.
Additionally, podcasts were but one aspect of my education that I was trying to fit in. I also listed weekly writing, reading, and community goals that, if completed in full, would have taken at least twice as many hours than the education portion. This resulted in a to-do list that would have been a heavy load even if this project was the only responsibility I had in life.
It was easy to get discouraged by looking at all I wasn’t getting done every week. Upon reflection, however, the reason this typically straight-A student is pleased with the overall outcome is that no semester in a traditional MFA would have been this packed. A 9-hour class schedule in most programs is considered full-time, because it takes into account that, to do well, you will likely need to spend 3-4 times as many hours outside class, reading and completing assignments, as you spend inside class. I went into this as if it were one (3-hour) course, but the syllabus I created was easily the equivalent of a 12-hour graduate workload. That I finished a little more than half of it means I exceeded my initial expectations.
And I loved every minute of it.
Well, most of the minutes. Gonna be more selective and seriously dial back the number of podcast episodes I listen to each week for the next round starting in January. I just…that is not the life for me.
But it forced me to be more mindful of my goals and how they balance. As a result, I’ve written more in the last 12 weeks than I have in the rest of the year combined. I also feel less stressed about decisions about my involvement with my various artsy communities (specifically, those times I want to do something but need to say no) because I now have a better overall understanding of my creative life as a whole. More of that, please.
I also think having an official textbook for each semester would be helpful because then I can choose additional resources that complement it rather than jumping topics so much. For example, the next session’s textbook is Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, which I have been through once already, but I know there’s so much more to learn there. And Cameron’s book is so detailed that the syllabus will basically write itself.
So this first session was a success, even if it didn’t always feel like it at the time.
June has been a pretty good month, all things considered. I mean, weather and legislation are gross, because Texas. And my dad had to put our dog Lola down, so I’m pretty sad about that. But despite a few storms, rainbows abound (feel free to interpret that in as many possible ways as you can).
Here is this month’s update on my home theme. Enjoy!
I enjoyed this piece by Sarah E. Westfall on The Exhaustion of Stuff – “A home is more than a place to put our things. A home shapes us. It is where we are formed in relationship and, in an ideal setting, feel safe and supported. But when the Stuff™ that surrounds us is excessive or lacks meaning or breeds chaos, those same qualities begin to manifest themselves within us.” Sometimes, I am nostalgic about belongings and keep them even when they’re cluttery because I have feelings about getting rid of them (not all of these feelings are joy. Just…feelings). However, I am currently in a “pitchy” phase – I’m cleaning out closets and being rather ruthless in what I get rid of. It feels so good. I got a take back bag from For Days, and I am having absolutely no problem filling it. I expect it will be ready to send back in about a week. Happy.
One group of items that I have a hard time getting rid of is all those shoes. I love shoes. I love having a lot of choices, even though I typically wear only the same three or four pair. I’ve bravely put some of them in the giveaway pile, but for the rest, I am looking into better storage options so that they don’t just sit in a heap in the closet floor.
The flip side, of course, is that I hope to someday capitalize a little more on what I enjoy doing the most so it can be the thing I do full-time. The older I get, the more creativity is fundamental to my core and my happiness. I’m looking forward to some intensive creative time this weekend and part of next week. Specifically, I am doing my first DIY writing retreat of the year next Monday night through Wednesday night (ish), so I’m finishing up preparations for it this weekend. I have two main goals for this session – to edit and submit the first chapter of either “Fishbowl” or “November” to the Gutsy Great Novelist Page One Prize and to finish Andi Cumbo’s Smash the Myths course.
Finally, I am happy to announce that I have been offered the position of Coordinator for Housing Services! I expect it to be a smooth transition, as I’ll be working with the same team I’m currently on, just with different responsibilities that are more in line with my strengths. Also, I will be moving into one of the offices (and thus out of the reception area yay), so I am spending a lot of free time building my dark academia Pinterest board with decorating ideas. Looking to build a cozy, welcoming space but also make it a reflection of my personal style as much as possible.
“Home wasn’t a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.” – Sarah Dessen, from What Happened to Goodbye
In exploring the concept of home, I’ve noticed that certain things stand out to me. For the rest of the year, a few of our Friday Fives are going to focus on books and think pieces that have sparked reflections about some of those things.
Shawn Smucker’s piece On the Road Again – “Now that I”m 46, homesickness is more of an ache for the place and the people where I belong, where I fit.” I spent most of last weekend on my parents’ farm, with a brief stint at the cousin’s place to attend a graduation party for his oldest child who is now an actual grown-up. [Aside – WHAT. I swear he was just born a minute ago.] It was so good to catch up with the extended family I came from, and we’re going to need to do that more often. I also really love coming back to Denton after a weekend away, though. Walking into my messy apartment where everything is mine and is just where I left it gives me a special kind of peace.
The Secret of Poppyridge Cove by Rimmy London – Should you use an inheritance to buy a great house that comes with some land and a private beach entrance but that is also possibly haunted and/or frequented by a (maybe) serial killer? I know the “responsible” answer to this fantasy scenario is probably no, especially when the money is not all in the bank account quite yet, but then I had to keep turning up the volume on this audiobook to hear it over my upstairs neighbors and their cute dogs committing the grievous act of walking across the room in their own apartment, so WHERE DO I SIGN?! I am inspiring/torturing myself with a lot of books lately that revolve around the act of buying a home and making it yours (even if there are bumps and possibly corpses along the way). I liked both this one and A Traitor at Poppyridge Cove, and I’m looking forward to the rest of the series.
The Year of Pleasures by Elizabeth Berg – I’m not saying that, when I retire, I’m going to put everything in storage and just drive until I find the town and house I want to live in, but this book makes a good argument for it. I really enjoyed it. Yes, as a couple of the online reviews state, it does read a little bit like a Hallmark Christmas movie (minus the Christmas). But there are so many poignant moments about grief and friendship and delicious food and community that it might have well had my name in the title because clearly it was written for me. It wasn’t just finding a place to land that helped the main character through her grief but also remembering to find joy in small, ordinary pleasures and with the people who showed up alongside her. I could use that reminder myself from time to time.
I love the way Christie Purifoy writes about place. In this guest post, she pursues the answer to the question, “What if our homes could be places that bring us back to life?” I love being at home, but sometimes I’m overwhelmed by the sheer volume of things I want to get done there. I get started with one project and then have to work or be somewhere else, so it takes longer than I would like to make a dent or a difference. But at other times, I look out my patio door at the tiny garden that is thriving, or I sit in my office among my books and glance up to see one I’d forgotten I had, and I’m filled with gratitude for this little space of mine. More of these life-giving moments, please.
How To Keep House While Drowning by KC Davis – This is the book I didn’t even know I needed right now. Usually with advice-laden books, I take notes because 1) that’s my best learning style, and 2) I want a succinct list of highlights to review later. I didn’t do that with this one because it’s short and I own it so I just decided to tab the pages. I have so many tabbed spots. It’s the tabbing equivalent of highlighting the whole book. But at just over 150 pages (if you include the appendix and the acknowledgments), it’s so rich in information. My favorite takeaway is that care tasks (whether for home or self) are morally neutral. You are not a better or worse person/adult based on how much you get done. I want this lesson to permeate my whole life this year. I already know it in my head but my heart and soul take a minute to catch up.
I’m very much looking forward to an easy weekend. Rest. Recoup. Also, dishes and maybe dusting. Putting some of those principles from Davis’s book into practice.
The person with whom I have the most inside jokes.
My “we can fight but if you so much as look at her unpleasantly I will end you” person.
I’m very protective:
(and not at all trying to make her kiss her elbow because MeMaw told me that if she did, she’d turn into a boy. I don’t know where you heard that vicious rumor.)
We grew up here:
With these people:
Lots of room to run, play, make mud pies, stage wedding ceremonies for our cats, chase the dogs, and swing until we threw up.
One of the things I love most about Tammy is her exuberant enthusiasm for all things joyful.
Like good teas from Equal Exchange.
Or a day to binge-watch Disney+
And getting her hairs done.
And Christmas.
And making sure the dogs are clean.
And marrying this guy.
I love our coffee (and sometimes pie) outings.
(KIMZEY’S. It took me this whole week to remember the name.)
She’s the person I call if I need cake and don’t want to eat it alone.
She’s the first person I call when I have good news, because she’ll be even more excited for me than I am. She’s the first person I call when I have bad news, because she already has a plan.
She is passionate, principled, warm, funny, organized, curious, responsible, and diligent.
[Not really related – just happy treats I forgot I had and found at my desk this morning.]
Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, is this week.
I have observed Lent since my early 20s, long before I was a member of a liturgical church that celebrates in seasons. I’ve practiced fasting from certain foods and activities, reading a book or study designed for the season, committing to certain service projects for 40 days, etc. I particularly love this piece from Tsh Oxenreider on why Lent is good for us. All of the ways I have observed Lent have been meaningful for me in some way, and I’m glad for the experience.
Being a part of a church that actively observes the season, though, makes my focus more communal and less personal, which is also nice. We have weekly soup suppers together and a mid-week service. For a couple of the years I’ve been part of this church, the communal observance was all I did, and it was enough.
With home as my theme for this year, a personal observance also seems in order. Part of the way I’m doing that this season is by checking in with ongoing goals, figuring out what’s working and what’s not, and adjusting as needed. This, of course, is a helpful practice in reaching long-term goals regardless of your religious leanings.
Incorporating the solitude that I need with the life that I want is sometimes messy. February has been intense but good. I’ve been a part of three performances this month. Three! I think that’s more times than I performed in all of 2022. And I have at least two more performances coming up in April that I’m excited about.
I like performing, and I want to keep doing it, but that means adjusting in other areas so that I don’t burn out. I’ve had to be extra vigilant about safeguarding my alone time, and I’ve had to be very strict with myself about boundaries between work and personal life. The time-outs have been useful because with so many performances comes extra practice and before I know it, I’m out of clean socks or spoons. Or worse – coffee.
So some of my short-term goals for Lent are about continuing with this year’s focus and resolutions, which were intentionally designed to help me find a good balance between all the things I need and want to do so that nothing gets too far off track. Specifically….
Two extended time-outs a week – This resolution (taking one long break a week) is going so well. It’s the primary reason I was able to perform three times in a two-week period without losing my mind. It’s so effective, I’m expanding it, at least for the next 6-7 weeks (and maybe longer. I suspect longer). A couple of large blocks of time a week are helpful for giving myself the breathing room to be at home in my own life and experience all that it has to offer.
Tidying – Being physically at home with an open schedule more often makes me more aware of things there that need tending to. I’m not sure when tidying became less of a chore and more of a joy, but I’m grateful for that. I suspect it had a lot to do with Marie Kondo’s approach and the example she continues to set about paying attention to what gives you joy and focusing your time and energy on those things. When I know the results of work will be so pleasant, the work itself seems less like an overwhelming drudgery and more like just the way I’m taking to get there. For the next few weeks, I want to spend at least five minutes tidying a different small area of my apartment every day to make it more functional and cozy.
Fun at work – OK, so my work situation is not great. But March is staff appreciation month, which is my favorite month of the year at UNT, and it’s a reminder that even if something is necessary but not a good fit, it still doesn’t have to be a total drag. During Lent (and hopefully beyond), I want to do one fun thing at work a day. Whether it’s taking a long walk across campus, decorating my desk, or attending a Hula dancing program (which I am absolutely signed up for), I want to learn how to make the most of it as long as I’m here.
Money issues – Two of the main reasons money makes me so anxious is that I don’t make quite enough to cover my needs plus a few small joys on a consistent basis, and I am acutely aware of how quickly the little I do make can be reduced or consumed if I’m not (and even sometimes when I am) constantly vigilant about it. To ease some of this pressure (ideally – I’m so very, very anxious), one of my goals for the year is to identify some way each month that I can either make or save more money. That’s been going fairly well, but now that I have a taste of cutting back, I’m no longer wanting to limit it to one a month. So I’m going to rip the bandage off and create a bare-bones budget that I can imagine actually sticking to. I hope to work out the kinks in March-May so that hopefully I have a better budget in place at the start of the summer. I expect that there will be tears as I let go of some things that I enjoy but are just too much right now but also hopefully some relief as, ideally, it will free up some funds to take care of other things I’ve been neglecting.
Setting weekly creative goals, reading a whole lot of books, and strength training are all seeing regular progress, so I’m just going to keep doing what’s working there.
If you observe Lent, I hope you have all the time you need this season. If you don’t observe, I hope you have a wonderful next few weeks that are as stress-free as possible. And I wish a good day to all!
I typically spend December reflecting on the year that’s ending, and part of that process is reading through my journals and blog posts. Several times throughout the year, I have mentioned home and pondered what it meant. One particular quote stood out – “Perhaps home care is self-care?” Home isn’t just the place I live physically, although one’s environment is important. It also involves a sense of belonging – of being secure and loved and accepted – particularly within myself, so that no matter who I am with, I can still be at home. So even before I started reading Najwa Zebian’s Welcome Home, I was already preparing my mind to explore it in this context, but of course, there’s always more to learn.
I always enjoyed having people over and feeding them in The Before Times. But then COVID protocols shut that down, and the adjustment was hard and, at times, heartbreaking. In many ways, though, it was also nice. I really do like having the space all to myself. It can be a mess, and I don’t feel the need to explain or apologize for it. It’s also less of a mess because there’s no panic cleaning (which results in some actual tidying/cleaning but mostly consists of “oh, shit, I don’t have time to actually go through all this paper on my table because people will be here tonight so I’m going to shove it into a bag and put it in the office closet where it now lives forever and ever amen.”). Additionally, being home alone sets a clear boundary for when I need solitude.
Every once in a while, though, I get a little pang of nostalgia (usually when I’m looking at entertaining arrangements on Pinterest). I’d like to find more of a balance this year that honors my home as my sanctuary but also is welcoming to those I want to invite into it.
“…house”
*sighs; wants*
I would love a house. With a backyard for some (very) minor gardening but mostly for looking at the sunrise and birds and the moon while I drink my coffee/tea/wine, undisturbed by passing cars or neighbors. With a garage so that the neighborhood squirrels will stop chewing on the wires in my car, the neighborhood cats will stop peeing on it, and the multiple hailstorms each spring will stop adding dimples to its hood. With a decent kitchen and laundry room. With walls and a ceiling I don’t have to share with strangers. With more room for books.
This is unlikely to come to pass this year, unless I suddenly get a huge promotion/raise. So instead I’m focusing on how to make my apartment, which has its odd quirks but overall is a decent place to live, more homey.
“…the social unit formed by a family living together”
This one is a little tricky, as I do not “live together” with anyone. I’m expanding it to include those who are family (both biological and chosen). I’m pretty good about spending time/keeping up/supporting some of them; I could do better with others.
“…a familiar or usual setting; congenial environment; the focus of one’s domestic attention”
Last year – my lush year – I paid special attention to the places where I feel like I fit the best and that brought me the most joy/peace/calm/etc., so I feel pretty well set up for this one. It’s been interesting to see how quickly I notice not only when a setting feels off for me but also when it’s just right. It’s made decisions about which social situations, responsibilities, and tangible objects to take on and which ones to give up a lot easier.
“…habitat”
This makes me think about nesting, which can go a number of ways for me (not all of them good). I do tend to make cozy nests, which I really love while I’m using them, but then I leave them where they are, and as it turns out, an unoccupied former nest is just a lot of stuff out of place and probably some tea/coffee cups that need washing. I may need to find a way to create more permanent, aesthetically pleasing nests that I (and the occasional guest, I guess) can enjoy without having to put them together and take them down every time. I have some ideas.
“…a place of origin”
As my parents age, I’ve been spending more time at the farm. I used to make it home three or four times a year, but I’ve been going at least every other month for a while. I like to check in on them because they (and by they I do mean we as a family) tend to downplay struggles, so it’s good to see with my own two eyes what’s happening. I also just like the drive. It’s one of my favorites.
“…at home”
Relaxed; comfortable; at ease – This is not my standard MO. I tend more toward the tense/anxious/fidgety end of the spectrum. But I look forward to finding ways to mosey toward the other side (or at least in the direction of middle ground) this year.
In harmony with the surroundings – I’ve been trying a few new habits at home already that seem to make it cozier and more harmonious. Work may be a challenge. I have a few steps in mind, including taking more frequent breaks any time I start to feel overwhelmed, using broader scheduling blocks for tasks (to adjust for inevitable interruptions to them), taking mental health days when I first need them rather than waiting until they’re almost an emergency, and, just in general, advocating for myself as fervently as I advocate for others.
On familiar ground; knowledgeable – I love learning, so this part is exciting. There are specific topics/skills I want to improve this year, including music theory and experimentation, reading/speaking Spanish, editing fiction, writing poetry, etc. I’m sure I’ll come up with more as the year progresses.
“…to be at one’s place of residence”
So much of my stress and mental health struggles could be more easily handled if I would just say no and stay home more often. I never, ever regret staying home. I really like it there. I don’t know why I find it so difficult to make it happen more often. I want get better at it this year.
“…to a vital, sensitive core”
This phrase jumped out at me, but so did the use-it-in-a-sentence example they gave. “The truth struck home.” I spent a whole year examining my core values, but that process has continued in the years that followed, because as we change, so do the things we value most sometimes. Currently, I would still list hope, generosity, and joy as some of the main things that drive my decisions, but the older I get (and thus, the more I discover there is to learn), the more important it seems to keep curiosity in the forefront of my mind, too. I’m sure these values will play a role in my exploration of home this year.
Two of the ways I want to do that is through two things I love – eating and reading.
I’m going to make recipes that remind me of home. I haven’t decided if I’m going to post recipes and stories throughout the year or if I want to compile them for discussion as a 31 Days series in October (leaning heavily toward the latter, but we’ll see).
Welcome Home was a solid start for books with home as part of the title and/or theme. I probably won’t get to all the ones I’m considering this year, but here’s the list so far:
I love costumes. I usually dress up as food (e.g., one year for Halloween, I was a strawberry milkshake), but this year, I am the Mad Hatter. It’s so much fun. The spool sash took forever but is definitely my favorite part of the outfit. One of my coworkers squeals, “You’re so cute!” every time she walks by. I enjoy that.
I can be fairly sensitive and serious, but any chance I get to insert a little whimsy into my life, I jump at it. I love opportunities to be creative, and I notice that I do better mentally when I make an effort to seek them out. To that end, I track creative tasks as part of my ongoing goal-setting for the year. This year, I have eight categories I’m tracking, and while I have specific goals for each (see parentheses below), I try to work most of them in as often as possible:
Writing – My writing job and blogging basically track themselves, so I limit this category to other projects, such as poetry, fiction, and newsletter or journal submissions (at least four times a week).
Needlework – Most of this is knitting, but I also have been playing around with embroidery and cross stitch (at least twice a week).
Piano – I have been working through a book of sonatas, trying to keep my sight-reading skills fresh, but I’m also (slowly) composing a piece. It’s the first song I have written since I busted out “Texas Is the Place for Me” for a piano recital when I was in junior high, but unlike that little gem, this one is strictly instrumental (at least twice a week).
Art journal – I have a lush-themed art journal for the year as well as an ongoing scrapbook sort of thing. I also include coloring in this because most of those pages serve as page backdrops or cover art for my various art journals (at least three times a week).
Cooking/baking – Is cooking creative? It is the way I do it. Also, have you seen Pie Lady Books? But even if it’s not that elaborate, I like playing around with ingredients and seeing how it turns out (at least once a week, but usually more, especially if I have several free days/evenings).
Collaboration – Creative tasks are even more fun with other people. Choir practice and jam sessions are typically how this pans out, but the occasional studio or art party counts, too (at least once but often twice a week).
Performance – I usually sing with the choir in service on Sunday mornings, but I’ve been dipping my toe into being on other stages for the last couple of years. I have a performance coming up in the next couple of weeks, so stay tuned if you’re local (at least four times a month).
Miscellaneous – Dang, I love a craft project. I like figuring out how to build or make things, especially if I can use them to decorate or accessorize. At any point in time, I likely have three or four projects in process, and the only reason there aren’t more is that I am limited on space (at least twice a week).
Speaking of goal tracking, I would be remiss if I did not wrap up this month of writing about creating a lush life without revealing the specific things I have been trying to put into practice on a regular basis this year. I didn’t set a specific goal number for them; I’m mostly just logging them for informational purposes. There are five main categories that I use to track lush living:
Cozy – Big surprise there, I know. This category is super broad. Any day that includes sufficient cozy elements (this category is also super vague) gets a check mark. Mostly, this is an opportunity to reflect at the end of each day on whether I have made time for myself to relax.
Pleasure/self-care – Closely related to cozy (and sometimes they do overlap), this category is more for specific self-care actions like facials and getting my hair done and foot soaks.
Socializing – If left to my own devices, I will hermit away and hardly ever leave the house. But several things I’ve talked about this month involve actually connecting with other people, so I give myself a little shout-out in my goal chart when I do something social.
Journaling – Sometimes this seems like too much navel-gazing (particularly this month when I’m also journaling daily-ish online), but it is vital to my mental health. I’m so much more grounded when I take a little time every day to write my thoughts out. My journals bounce between total stream of consciousness and well-organized, multi-tiered arguments. It’s a wild ride. I may have to appoint someone to burn them when I die.
Adulting – For lack of a better term. I tend to procrastinate unpleasant tasks until I am desperate to get them done. This is unnecessarily stressful and counterproductive when it comes to living a lush life. In addition to putting the week’s to-do list in my planner, I give myself credit for each task in my chart, and it’s working so well that I’m going to keep doing it next year.
And that’s the end. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this series of posts on creating a lush life as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them. Hopefully, you found the occasional nugget that can help you make your life a little lusher, too.
My favorite part of this picture is the reflection of the sheet music in the black keys.
Other than the benefits and the frequent free food, one reason I stay at my full-time job is that I will be officially eligible to retire on August 1, 2030. That’s just eight years away (or seven years, nine months, and 27 days, but who’s counting). Assuming I am in a good financial position to do so at that point, this will allow me to dedicate significantly more time to what I actually want to be when/as I grow up.
An artist.
More specifically, a writer/musician/dancer, but I’m open to other forms of art. The relatively small amount of time I spend working on my works in progress, writing this blog, collaborating with Sarah and other friends, singing in the choir, and other artsy pursuits is what makes me come alive. It is my joy. Retiring this early will also afford me some flexibility in my schedule for attending performances (as well as performing in them) because there will be no office to report to the next morning. I can finally fully embrace the night owl I was born to be.
One of the most challenging realizations I’ve had this year while pondering what it means to live lushly is that doing a job that is consistent but doesn’t really allow me to use my strengths or do what I enjoy puts inherent limits on how much of such a life I can really have right now. Is it worth it? Is there something else I could be doing that would be more rewarding and still give me the stability I currently need? I don’t have answers to these questions yet, but the questions have prompted me to look for ways to incorporate my creative skills into the work I do and to be pickier about the things I volunteer for that don’t really fit my preferences.
At the very least, engaging in creative activities gives me something to look forward to, even if it’s not how I spend most of my time. I’m excited to go to choir practice tonight. And after taking a few years off, I signed up for NaNoWriMo next month. I’m going to try writing my novel in second person. That’s about as far into planning as I’ve gotten, which is actually good for this particular time frame because I write a lot faster as a pantser than a planner.
M. Suzanne Terry 