Un petit peu tous les jours (A little every day)

One of my favourite-est teachers in the world (Dawn, who taught me shorthand, an optional class I kept attending even though I didn't have to simply because working under her was so motivating) always said this phrase: "A little every day."

She told us the only way to get good at shorthand was to keep practicing, even if we didn't see immediate results, even if it got discouraging - a little every day. Her advice, which I cherish much, has proved to be effective.

My list of daily little things:

• French: I've been practicing my French - and I am finding that the less obsessed I am with getting things 'perfect', the more I actually absorb - even if it is not complètement (completely) perfect. 
• Beachbody Insanity Workouts: This reminds me of the time I joined Bootcamp - it's grueling stuff! I cheat, though, and split my workouts into half - I do the first twenty minutes of a video one day, and the next twenty minutes the next day. But mind you, it is a pretty freaking intense twenty minutes! But the satisfaction of "powering through", in the words of Shaun T, is pretty darn satisfying.
• Savoring my food: Food and drink keeps me sane. A good meal, a satisfying cup of coffee / tea - these are the highlights of my day when I feel I'm losing a grip on sanity.
• Writing: I want to write a book - but starting is always the hardest part. Right now, I'm just trying to get myself to write something - anything - because starting will get me on my way to that book. 

But I've realized that the most important thing to practice a little of every day is cultivating gratitude for and finding pleasure in today. At this point in my life, the future is a big question mark, and sometimes that question mark is so big it overwhelms and scares me. Sometimes I look at my country and my life and the people around me and I wonder where this is all going, where I will end up... if I even have a future to look forward to.

Sometimes memories from my past come back to me and they seem so friggin perfect that I wonder if my life could ever be that beautiful again... and that thought scares me too - the thought that it can't get any better than it already has.

I cannot do anything about these fears, and I cannot control the future. The only thing I can do is not allow these fears to steal the only thing I do have control over - today.

Today I take much heart in this quote:

"There are times when it is hard to believe in the future, when we are temporarily just not brave enough. When this happens, concentrate on the present. Cultivate le petit bonheur (the little happiness) until courage returns. Look forward to the beauty of the next moment, the next hour, the promise of a good meal, sleep, a book, a movie, the likelihood that tonight the stars will shine and tomorrow the sun will shine. Sink roots into the present until the strength grows to think about tomorrow." ~Ardis Whitman

My love is like the ocean

inspired by the quiet place and a certain muse

my love is like the ocean
vast and deep
and on nights like this
it doesn't need to be held in someone's arms
cannot be held in someone's arms

my love ebbs and flows and it rides on the waves of life
knowing no two mornings or evenings or sunsets
will ever be the same
ever
and stops to cherish all of it
before the tide comes and washes the moment away
out to sea

is where my love flits and dances
on shimmering freckles of golden light
and when the sun goes down
slows to a sway
rocking these precious memories of you
me
us
to sleep
moonbeam kisses
carry these postcards
from once upon a remembering
down, down to the depths of my love
where they will always stay
anchored
as the seasons and currents roll around them
always changing
like my love

wants you
but not squeezed into a note and bottled up
but without the need for bait
but not merely floating on the surface
that wants you
all of you

to be happy
to be free
to wander the lands and seas

to feel my love
bubbling, crashing, tripping, tumbling
all around you
as wild and free as you roam
flowing around the world
and back

to places you will see as though through new eyes
to places you will lay your head to rest
to places you will ask questions
to places you will search for answers

my love is like the ocean
and wherever you are it will follow you
and back
my love is like the ocean
untamed and fierce
but also sure
steady
enduring
the ocean
is
my love
my love
is
you

Do you want to create? Then start.

A note to self on 'creative' writing:

"By the way, is “creative writer” a good description? Aren’t fiction writers really investigators, whose musings on reality turn into a sort of vomiting-forth of speculations, as seen from an eagle’s eye viewpoint, with convenient condensation of timeline and highlighting of major high and low points? Then how can they report on reality if their working life is no more than that reporting? A mirror facing nothing more than a mirror?

Also, I don’t believe in Creative Writing Courses. Do you want to create? Then start, and learn how to do even as you do. The vision, the idea, the vague picture in your mind, the obsession in your heart: these make books, not writing classes. Taking a writing class is like a man taking lessons in bicycle riding with the idea that he may some day own a bike. Creative writing is an expression of what is learned in life, in fascination, joy, horror, pain and suchlike.

Re opportunity: become a doctor, or a plumber, or something else useful where the usefulness is real, and not dependent on someone’s “artistic” judgment. Making a living by writing is well nigh impossible. Do something else. Becoming a creative writer depends on your desire, and your ability. Making a living by it depends on a fickle world." -Graham Worthington, self-published author of Zorn and Wake of the Raven

Inspired again, one day at a time

Recently, I've been inspired to write again.

I've found the courage to tell my stories. For now, at least.

It will keep on taking effort. It will require a daily dose of courage.

But it's an effort I want to make. Because am I a writer. Because that is how I connect with my world. Because that is how I create today, dream for the future, and make peace with the past.

I also want to travel the world. But that won't happen for at least another three years. So my goal for these three years, is to write. Daily. To tell the truth about the world, the way I see it. To share my journey with others, to challenge, identify with, inspire, or encourage other people in theirs.

At the end of three years, I want to have written enough to fill a book. I don't know what it will be about. I don't even have an overarching theme in mind. Yet. But I know it will be about love, culture, faith, technology, distance, and meaning.

I don't have a writing plan to get there - but I can write a little, a day at a time. So I'll start with that. I'll write what compels me. I will be honest. I will be real.

And we'll see where that takes me. It's going to be quite a journey.

Today's piece is titled, "Welcome to the real world", and it's based on a true story. That is all the additional detail I will reveal about this story.

Tell me what you think about it? :)

"They sat in Starbucks, facing each other in awkward silence. She, staring out the glass walls, looking out at the city traffic below, but not really seeing anything. Her body was here, but her mind refused to accept it. This was not happening. He was not sitting opposite her, so calmly, after three months apart, after The Phone Call.

The phone call had not happened. She didn't, in frustration and despair, tearfully demand to know what the hell was going on. He didn't slam the phone down and say he was done with this. With all of this, with her.

The last three months hadn't happened. He hadn't blown into her life like a whirlwind, out of nowhere, shaking up everything she had worked for and believed in. He didn't make her think, and challenge her more than anyone had before. He didn't bowl over her parents and friends in exactly the same way he swept her off her feet. He didn't make her feel like a princess, like the Most Important Girl in the World. And she didn't fall in love with him.

And he didn't leave, one week later, before making her his girlfriend, with the promise that he would be back. He didn't speak of glittering hopes for the future, of moonlight dancing and jazz bands and riverside walks, of Sunday mornings skipping to the market, of waking up in the same bed together. And she didn't believe him." Read the rest.