Enter the New

Some time ago, when I began this blog, I was obsessed with knitting blogs.  I fantasized that I would become the sort of talented knitter (like The Yarn Harlot) who would achieve a degree of fame and (much less degree of) fortune through writing.  Nevertheless, I wanted to write, and I called my blog Knits and Nuts.  I liked to knit and was a tad...um...unique.  Quirky.  Maybe even nuts.  In subsequent years, when I found myself writing about any number of things, ranging from greener living, gardening, and travel, to parenting, teaching, dyslexia, ADHD, and reading, my sister-in-law pointed out to me that although she enjoyed my blog, I didn't write that much about knitting.  Or nuts.

It was a valid point.  And then it was a moot point because my life upheaved, and I didn't really write much about anything for at least 4 years during which Things Happened.

So this year, when I took on the 30 Day Writing Challenge (which I didn't finish, by the way), I realized how much I missed writing.  I decided that I needed a fresh start, and I might as well fix that whole Knits and Nuts business altogether.  In my non writing time, I spent a lot of time examining just what the common thread was; what were the common themes that compelled me to commit them to writing?  I realized that they all had to do with my stepping out of the safety and security of my comfort zone and trying new things, some more radical than others.  And so, about a year after turning 50, I took stock in how much newness I had brought into my life and how it had changed me.  I may be older, but I'm learning to try new things, and that changing perspective has had profound effects on my outlook, my little family, and our life together.  I hope you will join me as I continue to write about any number of things, ranging from greener living, gardening, and travel, to parenting, teaching, learning differences, dyslexia, ADHD, and reading.  And knitting.  And maybe even nuts.  Welcome to Older Dog; Newer Tricks.  Stick with me to learn more about where I've been and where I'm going.

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day One

I picked up this 30 Day Writing Challenge on Facebook.  I've been waiting for months for a good reason to restart this blog, and while this might not be the most exciting way to get writing again, it is at least a beginning.

So let's just jump in, shall we?

Day One:  Five Problems with Social Media

1.  Social media can be one huge time suck.  There are myriad benefits of social media, and I am sure I'll detail them later; however, it is remarkably easy to be drawn into a world that takes on greater importance than one's own life.  It's difficult to turn it off and walk away.  I often wonder what I would do with the time I waste on social media.  Knit more?  Read more books?  Write?  Enjoy my family?

2.  I've seen a lot written lately about how social media can contribute to depression because it is so easy for us to compare ourselves to others and leave ourselves lacking.  This is a tendency I already have - the propensity to be self-critical, and social media gives me yet another a mirror to hold in front of myself to criticize my every action.

3.  Social media makes it easier for people to say things to others that they would be unlikely to say in person.  It provides a sort of buffer between real life and fiction; it gives us a wall to hide behind.  I have fallen prey to such digital extroversion myself but have also seen it in others.  It distances us from our words so that we feel it is our right to say anything.

4.  We risk opening our lives to an invasion of privacy that we would otherwise guard against.

5.  It is increasingly well documented that too much screen time can negatively affect us in many ways, including disruptive sleep patterns, contributing to sensory overload, and preventing us from engaging in more mindful activities.  Although social media is certainly not the only culprit, it does provide us with yet another reason to spend time on a screen rather than interacting in our own real lives.

Artifacts

As I was heading out the door this morning, I was struck by the changes that had taken place in the house in the short period of time while I was in the shower. I didn't know how or why that duck was on the couch, why that Valentines' Day card was propped on the dining room table, or why the collage Duncan made yesterday was moved from the sideboard to a prominent place on the refrigerator. Well, I DID know, actually. All those changes result from a small person with a developing psyche wanting to make his own mark on his environment.  The misplaced objects all tell their own stories; sometimes they are shared family stories, and sometimes they are an individual's stories. They are everywhere, and yet they go largely unnoticed and undocumented.

In my World Series, sleep deprived, state, I mused about the hundreds of tiny stories around our house, stories that an outsider (or even an insider) would never know. I am fascinated by the way objects move about the house, alighting in areas, spending a little time, and moving on. We are as tidy as we can make time to be. Eventually everything goes back where it belongs, but some things stay in strange places a little longer than others.

This is Ducky, who was an Easter present from Nana, and "bug blanket," which was a baby present from Uncle Vernon's mom. Ducky came downstairs this morning while I was in the shower and settled in on the couch. Apparently, he was having a sick day.

This is an octopus Duncan drew yesterday. Duncan is going through a huge drawing and writing phase, a renaissance of sorts. He INSISTS on displaying his work all around the house. Yesterday, we were running a little low on wall space so the octopus was displayed in the bathroom.

The pumpkin was a project the preschoolers did in the spring (go figure) at the local retirement home. I unearthed it last week to use it as a decoration, but Duncan moved it to the lamp to share space with the star art that he did with Jamie earlier in the summer. It hung on the window in his bedroom until it moved down to the lamp. We have a similar piece in our bedroom.

When I made paper cranes for Christmas ornaments last year, Duncan really wanted to make one. His skills were not quite up to origami so I told him that if he colored the paper, I would fold it into a bird. I thought that within a few days, we'd toss it in the trash, but he wanted to hang it up, so it hovers in the kitchen door.

Yesterday, when Duncan started to recuperate from his stomach bug, he developed some cabin fever. We went outside to do some light yard work and collected pine cones and leaves for a project. The pine cones lay in waiting on the kitchen table.

As I mentioned above, Duncan is newly obsessed with writing. He has a renewed interest in drawing as well, but he will write, undisturbed, for 30 minutes at a time. The time between our return home and dinner is turning out to be a great time to practice writing, and I try to slip in a little light reading instruction as well...This is one of four pieces in our dining/living room. (Some of the writing is mine...don't be too impressed).  In the bottom, right hand corner, he turned an f and an h into mailboxes. On the bottom left, he turned my h into a b. On another piece (not shown), he turned the letter k into a teeter-totter.

This concludes my little tour into the landscape of our daily life. Take a look around yours. The artifacts are all around you, especially if a child spends time in your life. What can you learn from them? What do they say about you? I don't care if ours say that we're untidy. I care more that they show that a child's work is valued, that he has enough confidence in himself to want to display his wares, that we appreciate the outdoors, that we endeavor to bring the outdoors indoors, that our child is developing a sense of agency, and that he appreciates the time we spend together. He is the newest curator of our house and our personal history, and there is so much to learn from his exhibits.

Showing Up for the Muse

I've been thinking a lot lately about Tilly. If you don't know Tilly or her art work, you should, especially if you live in the Hudson Valley. Check out her blog, Showing Up for the Muse at tillystudio.blogspot.com. Tilly taught art at Kildonan for a long time and then retired from teaching to pursue her own art full time. I love Tilly's art, but at the moment, it is her dedication that I find inspirational. In the spirit of Albert Einstein, who said that genius is 98% perspiration and 2% inspiration, she decided to challenge herself to complete a painting each day, regardless of what is going on in her life. The philosophy is that you can't sit around waiting for inspiration. At minimum, you have to be present in order to make it happen: you have to show up for the Muse. That philosophy has recently begun to have enormous effects on my life.

I've wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. When I was in elementary school, I wrote tiny poems and stereotypical stories with relish. I continued in high school; I read voraciously, kept notebooks and journals of quotations I enjoyed, and continued to write poetry. In college, I took a poetry writing course on a lark and loved it; it forced me to share my work with others, open myself to constructive criticism, and value the processes of editing and rewriting. Before I graduated, I even submitted a few poems to my school's literary journals and was thrilled to see my name, and my poetry, in print. Even though I studied psychology, when people asked what I wanted "to do," I always replied "what I REALLY want to do is write."

And the rest, as they say, is history. I graduated, came to work at Kildonan, wrote about 3 poems and gave it all up. Periodically during those 21 years, I wondered why I quit writing. Occasionally, I started a journal or read a book about writing, and then I drifted back to my everyday life. I continued to catch myself saying "..., but what I really want to do is write." I was good at generating excuses: I don't have time; what do I have to write about; who cares what I have to say. But I didn't write anything.

Then, I discovered The Yarn Harlot. I loved reading about Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's experiences with knitting and her stories about her family, and I found the photographs irresistible. I checked in daily to see what was going on in her life, and I began reading her books. Soon, I had whole roster of blogs to keep up with (too many actually). Some were about knitting, but many focused on parents' experiences raising children. I rediscovered Tilly's blog. Even though I didn't venture to comment on any of those blogs, I felt a sense of community there; I found people who were experiencing what I was: potty training, insufficient time for knitting, lack of free time, difficulty juggling motherhood and work. And I began to think "I could do this." Without knowing if I would actually stick with it, I began this blog on February 28; this is my 35th entry (counting these words of brilliance, "Hah! It's a blog.") I still don't know if I will stick with this, or if anything will come of it in terms of turning me into a "writer," but 35 efforts is pretty substantial for me. I understand you have to engage in a new activity at least 15 times to make it a habit, so I'm optimistic.

I may never become a writer in a professional sense, but I adopted Tilly's philosophy. If I don't show up, I'll remain firmly on my course of not becoming a writer. If I show up, I have a fighting chance. It sounds simple, but it is life changing.

As I mentioned in a previous post, writing releases a part of my personality that is otherwise held captive in my introversion. That change is perhaps the most important. I've also discovered that the more I write, the more I want to write. I am beginning to crave time to write; on the days that I don't write, I feel like I am missing a piece of myself. Maybe this summer, I'll take the Tilly challenge and attempt to write every day for a month. I have become pathologically attached to my laptop. I sneaked it to Vermont with me when Jamie and I went away; I think at first he thought I wanted to surf the web for two days. The truth was that I needed it in case I wanted to do some writing. A few weeks back, the IT guy at school (he's SOOO much more than 'the IT guy at school' - forgive me Stephen) took my laptop overnight to install a new operating system. The next day, I confessed that I felt naked without it. I began a list of things I want to write about; it's in my pocket as we speak. I am even going to procure a tiny notebook so I can write down (tediously, by hand) ideas that occur to me throughout the day. And also very important (and paradoxical for this introvert), the more I write, the more I want to share what I have to say. I don't know if any of this makes me a writer, and it's certainly not padding my savings account, although it does, without a doubt, make me a person who writes.

I'm having a blast! Thanks for sharing my 35th post with me. I hope that you will all keep showing up to read as long as I keep showing up to write; maybe, just maybe, I'll write the next, great American young adult novel that will convert all dyslexic reluctant readers to readers...you just never know.