Maintaining Focus: Things That Matter to Me

2 December 2018

I find myself somewhat bored as I'm trying to watch less TV and waste less of my time and attention multi-focusing on several activities all at once, not really enjoying or being engaged with any one thing I am doing. I'm trying not to split my attention like that anymore. At any given time, I'm listening to music or watching a YouTube video with my headphones on, eating, checking my emails and non-existent messages, trying to organize the house, mindlessly petting my kitty, and attempting to spend quality time with the person I love most—plus being impacted by anything else that is going on in the background environment.

I’m becoming more successful at minimizing the number of things I am doing, yet I find that I don't know what to do with that intentional space I’ve created. What is worth doing just that one thing, with nothing else diluting my attention? Not the things that I was doing—or at least not in the way I was doing them.

A moment ago, I lit a couple of candles, put a crackling fire on the TV (someday I'll have a real fire) and some music, and started dancing and playing with my cat, Minerva. Even all of this can be quite stimulating, but that is all I was doing. I'm over here playing with Minerva and dancing in this cozy environment, instead of lying down with my abdomen scrunched up, my neck pushed against the wall very uncomfortably at an angle, and my bloodshot eyes staring at the little screen that is always way too close to my face. What I am doing now feels good; it feels meaningful and intentional.

Being able to write about this process allows me to reflect on how it impacts me in the moment, as well as the lingering effects it has on my well-being. While I hope that someone else can find some inspiration and value in my tales about this beautiful life I am creating for myself, I know that at least I find value in writing and sharing my story regardless of how many people are following my journey. Nonetheless, I do wish to share my appreciation for those of you who take time out of your day to peruse my blog. By doing so, you help me live more intentionally and feel connected to empowered people who are on their own path to living meaningfully.

Finding My Voice

This is very much a "finding my voice" blog. I have been consumed by anxiety and the fear that I am an annoyance to other people, all the while pushing my insecurities into the faces of everyone around me by my endless conversation. This often makes me feel like a nag*. Now if you ask those who love me, I am sure most of them would say that they actually enjoy my crazy ramblings. But the funny thing about mental health and negative self-talk is that I still question whether they are telling me the truth and I am just so paranoid that I completely disrespect them by disregarding their reassurances AND/OR it is a self fulfilling prophesy whereby I share my insecurities, they become true and thus undermine my real strengths by emphasizing my character flaws. I lose with both of those options.

I see what I am doing now (that is, declaring my growth from a place of confidence) as a way for me to actually create my own source of strength. I'm taking control of my own success by tuning toward what is meaningful to me and maximizing on it. Through this blog, I am narrating my story from a reflective stance while using writing as a tool to formulate and process my ideas. I am fine-tuning what I believe, my perception of my experiences, and my communication of those ideas to others. I am developing my language to be more articulate and purposeful. Or, rather, I'm trying to....

And that is what I mean by this being a "finding my voice" blog.


*Perhaps I will write about my thoughts on "nagging" another time. In short, I observe it to be extremely gendered which ends up problematic for everyone, because it promotes the real behavior of nagging in women AND it dismisses the real issues voiced by women, particularly in intimate and romantic relationships. I am still forming my ideas about this, so they may change, but this is what I've seen to occur most often in the world around me.

Bill, is that you?!?!?

25 November 2018

The Huntress

Written 12/2/2018

She blinks casually as if she is solely something to be loved and not feared.
She twists her head around—again, ever-so casually—
Taking in her environment,
Making note of the obstacles and interesting movements around her.
That twinkle in her eye tells me she is alert and waiting,
Ready at exactly the right moment to swiftly swat her paw and snap her jaw,
Claws and teeth extended for the kill.

Thankfully, her prey is an inanimate object;
Otherwise, its heart would be pounding loud enough for her to hear each terrified pulse,
Knowing its life is ending very soon.
In reality it is a set of feathers attached to a string and stick.
The yellow, red, and orange colors glide through the air as I tempt the huntress with its nonchalant, bouncing flight.
I am more than ready to counteract her strike to make the game difficult enough to still be fun.
But I have to say that even in my observation and anticipation
She wins every time, even if it takes an extra pounce or two.

She wiggles her rear and leaps full speed toward the toy birdie,
Chasing after it for a whole second and a half before pretending to devour it,
Using her mouth and all four legs as she lies on her back, fluffy underside facing the ceiling.
Then, as quickly as it happened,
She declares this play session over,
Indicating this to me by aggressively grooming her coat.

Just a moment later,
She looks deep into my soul with that killer twinkle in her eye,
And her gaze softens.
She blinks casually,
Lays her chin down on the soft mattress,
And closes her eyes as she flips her head upside down.

I reach out and lovingly rub her neck, thinking:
Thank goodness I’m not a bird.

[A Poetic Title]

Written 4/16/2012, revised 8/29/2018 

Poetic writing is rhythm.
It is symbolic words and phrases,
A portrayal of what’s inside;
When my innards are metaphorically devised
In an inarticulate mastery of communicating
What it means
To feel, to believe, and to connect deeply with others.
It syntactically rearranges lines and words
To meddle with what feelings are mine,
In a moment.

Poetic writing displays our thoughts
And points of view
Through a picture of the curved “c,” looped “a,” crossed “t”
That appear in “cat.”
Imagery crawling up the pillars of the page and
Intertwining itself in the margins.
Little black words standing next to that bold red line
Between the horizontally-stacked blue
On a loose-leaf sheet of paper.

Poetic writing is an art with a certain rhythmic flow
And a certain structure,
That loans itself to the overall meaning.

Poetic writing is the
Ambiguous,
In-depth,
Endless
Analysis of a piece-by-piece work
That combines its different intentions
Through a network of techniques.

In essence, poetic writing is a way in which emotions are
Translated onto a page

(Rather than just saying it efficiently).

And doesn’t that just reflect the often-ignored-but-intensely-present complexities in a world that could—
If we all worked together—
Be so simple.

A Faded Fear Invading

Written 3/24/2011, revised 8/28/2018

When the fire ignites,
The night illuminates with an enraged body of heat.
And though it’s light like day,
The dark has left its mark.

I wonder to myself:
“Has the dark gone?
Or has the light come?”
Then,
“Has the cold faded?
Or has the warm invaded?”
Maybe it doesn’t really matter.

And then, when the coals are due,
The fire can be made anew,
With bold, thick logs added on later.
Yet, the darkness still surrounds.
The cycle goes round and round.
The fire destroys and annoys,
Painfully piercing the dark’s hold.
Through it all, there is a comfort in the fear.

Minerva: December 2018

Starting strong: 1 December 2018

Starting strong: 1 December 2018

Starting strong: 1 December 2018

Minerva: Portraits

Taken 1 December 2018 by Francesca Stoker-Crutchfield

Minerva: Tummy Rubbin'

Minerva: Slow Motion Play

Minerva: November 2018

28 November 2018

23 November 2018

16 November 2018

10 November 2018

Minerva: October 2018

24 October 2018

13 October 2018

6 October 2018

Minerva: September 2018

30 September 2018

20 September 2018

17 September 2018

About Minerva

Minerva is a 4-year-old Maine Coon mix. Eric and I found ourselves lucky enough to adopt her into our family on 16 September 2018. She is amazing and magnificent.

A Sanity in a World Insane

Written in 2010, published in 2011 (in The Teacher's Selection Anthology of Poetry)

A chord on paper, emotions are heard.
The chime carries out
Through movies, in songs.
The music makes noise, emotions.
A lament of lost love or an exciting love found,
Either politics or just for the sound,
Music plays.
A universal talent, a story unleashed.
For every country, town, or man,
The music plays on.
A horn, a flute, a drum, a chant,
Notes are weaved into rhythms;
Rhythms that set the cold heart running.
Passion in love, in hatred is cunning
To the ear and to the brain.
Every moment, every day.
Guitar strings plucked, piano pedals pressed,
A voice in calm surrender to the waves of the treble clef.
Keys clicking, and slides slurring, valves unendingly stick.
Seventy-six trombones accompanied by the sheet with the bass clef tick,
The music always is playing.
In Morocco, in India, and even Taiwan,
The music plays on.
In a world of robotic thoughts, music composes new ideas, original feelings, and a joy so sweet that even Beethoven must have heard it:
Music: A Sanity in a World Insane.

Valuing Nuance, Respect, and Empathy

Definitions

nu·ance

a subtle difference or distinction in expression, meaning, response, etc.

re·spect

an attitude of admiration or esteem

em·pa·thy

the ability to understand and share the feelings of another

Why this matters

A happy consequence of learning that nuance and conflict exist all around us--meaning of course that there can be endless valid (or "right") perspectives to a single topic--is that we are able to communicate our true respect for others as we differ in our opinions. We allow others to have had real and important viewpoints regarding shared experiences.

We can stop being defensive and start listening as long as we also feel heard.

My perspective is that this empathy has to start somewhere. If someone feels respected and heard, they are so much more likely to listen back. So let it start with me and you.

Introduction to My Poetry Blog

I used to write for fun. My mind ran wild with creative ideas as I scrambled to capture them just right on a piece of paper. Then I would move on from that idea onto another just-as-scrambled thought process. I loved flowery language that was barely too complicated to make sense, though at the time I had a clear idea of what was vaguely meant by writing it down.

I haven't been in that state of mind for a long time. I still have rapid sensations of [something deeply important] that I spend all my time trying to capture, save, and analyze before the next quick idea reaches me. As I develop, though, I move ever so slightly toward wanting to refine and edit around the core values leading me to a particular thought. That's precisely what I decided to do here--take old poems and edit them so they reveal the wisdom I have accrued since the last time I visited that idea. You will see poems with up to a decade of focused research building upon that first thought. Perhaps you will see some new ones too. We'll see how creative I get...

Just remember: I still have decades left to go.