Monthly Archives: January 2013

Something I Learned Today

A practice I have been doing often for the past couple of years is to write down at least one new thing I learned every day. I sometimes fail or forget but mostly hit the mark. That said, when I get to the end of the year and review all of the things I learned, it makes me pretty darn proud. It is a great reminder that, no matter how old I get, there is always the capacity to learn and grow.

Sometimes, the one thing I learn comes from reading. Sometimes, it comes from observation. Sometimes, it comes from conversation. Sometimes, when I get to the end of the day and can’t think of anything new that I learned, I go to a random page on Wikipedia and learn something for the sake of learning.

There is no wrong way to capture this stuff. A paper notebook works well. The Levenger Five Year Journal is almost tailor made for it. Day One, with its quick entry menu item is fast and near frictionless.

The point is to note something in a way that is so simple and painless you won’t forget and it will become habit. Because, if you can make the capturing of your brain’s travels habit then, by association, learning something new every day will become habit too.

I’m a writer. Writing is how I make this world better, friendlier, stronger place. If these words improved your day, please let me know by contributing here.

Warming Up

My fingers are really cold today. I can’t seem to get them to feel warm. I’ve blown on them, clasping one hand over the other and cupping my mouth as I exhaled, hoping the warmth of my breath would help. I’ve tried sitting on them, hoping to find warmth for them somewhere between my thighs and the couch. I’ve tried rubbing my hands together, hoping the friction would produce enough heat. Nothing has worked so far.

This is a problem. Writers largely work with their hands. They need to be warmed up.

Before this, I had sat down to work on my morning pages. They too, are an act of warming up the writer. Of getting the fingers moving and the creative juices flowing so that an artist is warmed up to the craft that lay before them.

How does one warm up when they can seem to get warm? My fingers are too cold to write.

The morning pages are essential for me. Pioneered by Julia Cameron in her book, The Artist Way, the idea is to fill up three standard pages, hand written, long hand, with whatever thoughts come to mind. There is not supposed to be narrative or meaning or even the idea of being any good. In fact, it should barely be considered writing, really. Just stream of conscious thought poured out on the page done first thing in the morning. Morning pages are supposed to clear the mind and open the pathways to the deeper reaches of one’s mind.

And now my hands are grasping a hot cup of coffee. Still hoping for warmth.

Most often, I warm up to write one thing by writing another thing. An email is an excellent way to warm up to writing a blog post. A journal entry is a pretty good way to warm up to write a chapter of a book. A task list. A recipe. Transcribing the side of a cereal box. If you are feeling stuck, writing anything is always a good way to get unstuck.

And, now, I have written about warming up. My fingers are a bit warmer. As if thinking about it and writing about it were the only source of heat in the world. In this moment, that seems as true as any truth.

I can write my pages now.

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Hiding In Plain Sight

We like to believe that the Internet is this open public place. This place where everyone shares everything (even to a fault). Where if someone is struggling, they will surely share it on their blog or tweet it or post it on some wall. That you will have some chance to reach out and offer real help.

In fact, quite the opposite is more often true. The Internet is the perfect place to hide in plain sight. One can appear to be a part of this world while, in spirit, they left it a long time ago. We can put a good face on our otherwise anonymous lives and never mention the darkness that envelops and consumes us. We can focus public attention on our work and not our person. We can disappear for a whole year and then come back as if nothing has happened and most people won’t even notice. (“Oh, yeah. I guess you haven’t posted in a while.”)

It is far more difficult to hide such things in person. There are too many other cues that give our disposition away. Body language or a look in the eye or even a lack of skip in an otherwise skip filled step. Those who watch closely enough, especially those who we are closest too, can often tell the signs of the suffering. Such intimacy, for this reason, is always measured in distance.

I think, for many of us, we notice these things because we have seen them in our selves. As one who, far too often, has such darkness looming, thankfully untouchably, before him, I see it well in others. I’ve seen it’s face just behind my eyes when I have looked the mirror. Therefore, if I can be face-to-face with someone, I can almost always spot it.

Can’t do that, yet, on the Internet.

I only wish I knew the words and tools I use to keep it at bay well enough to impart to others no matter where and when it is made known to me. Such skills are often unique, individual, and mostly non-transferable. I barely manage myself most days. Most often all I can do for others is offer to let them know they do not suffer alone.

If that is you, hiding such suffering in plain sight, know that you are not alone and are welcome to reach out to me, in person or through the Internet, anytime.

I’m a writer. Writing is how I make this world better, friendlier, stronger place. If these words improved your day, please let me know by contributing here.