Let's take a little break

Here is something I have learned:

When your brain is fuzzy 

[due to countless hours of pulling it apart], 

take a break.

Do something else.

Make a pot of delicious popcorn.

Transfer your laundry to the dryer.

Sit on the deck in the sunshine and close your eyes.

Stand on your head.

[Ok, I can't do that.  But, I could see it helping.]

Or, even better,

plan a blog in your head.

And then, write it.

Today's break will reflect on the interactions of Ernest Hemingway and I around my dining room table.

A few days ago, 

I collected a variety of books together and carted them upstairs.  

I placed them on the table, and looked at them.  

I sighed.

"I'm tired" I whined to myself.

"Will this ever be over?" I said to the wall.

"Where is distraction when you need it?" I questioned the breeze blowing gently through the swaying curtains.

The curtains reached out and loved me, 

but they offered me no solution.

"Fine" I muttered, and settled myself down...

...when soon and somehow and inexplicably, I discovered:

I. LOVE. THIS.

I love sitting in my quiet house with sunshine and breeze, 

thinking my thoughts, in my pajamas.

I love seeking out the thoughts of others, 

love collecting their insights,

love wrapping them up in my own.  

I love crafting sentences, 

weaving paragraphs, 

funneling truth as I see it 

into form and place.

I love it, love it, love it.

Until.

"I'M TIRED, WHEN WILL THIS BE OVER, 

WHERE OH WHERE IS DISTRACTION?!?!"

[I just want to scream.]

And that is when I see Ernest, 

floating in the chair across from me 

and in the fogginess of my vision; 

when I hear him say what he is purported to have said, 

in sympathetic encouragement to me

and out of the richness of his own experience:

"There is nothing to writing. 

All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

Yes, Ernest.  Yes.

[To be truthful, I also feel inclined to tell him that in these postmodern days, dumping coffee on your computer out of sheer delirium is apparently also an option.]

But, yes.

I let it sink in.  

I allow the breeze to whisper to my soul, 

the popcorn to my strength, 

the reality of being a part of this greatly swarming breed of humanity to my desire to be a part of it.

And then?

I dive back in,

to the mess of productivity.

Because really--

If there's no blood, it's probably not worth very much.

Not to mention, I can't justify nearly as much popcorn in my life if I'm not sitting at this table all day.

And, I really do love this.
[Don't let me forget.]

There's a light, and it's near by

Its all fun and [computers] over here...

So, recently I've been working on this little thing called a dissertation. 

You might have heard about it.

I keep thinking--it's just a paper, how can it be so all-consuming?

And yet...

This dang dissertation has taken over my whole life.

It has taken over even my house,
with books and papers strewn about

and computers, everywhere you look.

Now, you might be saying--computers?

Everywhere?

Don't you need just one?

Allow me to assure you, I mean everywhere.

Some of it is for reasons I find quite fun,

 because work parties have become the norm around here,

with up to seven computers and a variety of friends
lollygagging about at any given moment.  

But some of it is for reasons far more distressing.

Looking closely at the picture above, you will see a computer that I have spent significant time working on recently.  You might wonder if it is mine, but I can tell you it is not.

[You might also notice the coffee mug sitting so peacefully nearby,
and once I tell you the rest of the saga, I am quite certain you will question my right to have and to hold computers of any kind...]

I was using that computer you see,
after a rather traumatic day when I
--in a delirious state of working frenzy--

sent an entire cup of coffee sloshing all over this poor guy.
Of no use to me in his coffeed up state, my faithful friend of the last three years found himself relegated to the corner,
through no fault of his own.

His early retirement led me to make a purchase I was not planning to make, an early "yay, you nearly killed yourself  [and everything around you] writing a  paper in order to get another piece of paper!" gift.

Via a very-adorable-but-slightly-overwhelmed-by-the-amount-of-squealing-greeting-him-at-the-door FedEx man on a Saturday morning work day,

 my new best friend arrived.

 Despite my questionable trustworthiness,

 my work party friends encouraged me,

and gave me a few pointers.

In fact, despite the mess in my house and of my own actions,
my friends remain very good to me.

They've made me a series of encouraging signs,

have dropped off meaningful bling.

I, for one, have gotten a bit smarter, and have high hopes:

Me and my new friend are gonna get this dang thing DONE.

There is Thriving to be Done

As for God, his way is perfect:

    The Lord’s word is flawless;

    he shields all who take refuge in him.

For who is God besides the Lord?

    And who is the Rock except our God?

It is God who arms me with strength

    and keeps my way secure.

He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;  
he causes me to stand on the heights.

He trains my hands for battle;  

my arms can bend a bow of bronze.

You make your saving help my shield, 
and your right hand sustains me;
your help has made me great.

You provide a broad path for my feet, 
so that my ankles do not give way.

Therefore I will praise you, Lord, 

among the nations;
    I will sing the praises of your name.

[Ps. 18, in bits and pieces]

My Greatest Success is Found in Him

Dr. Suess once said, "oh, the places you'll go!"

He said, "You have brains in your head.  You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose."

He even said, "You won't lag behind, because you'll have the speed.  You'll pass the whole gang and you'll soon take the lead.  Wherever you fly, you'll be best of the best. Wherever you go, you will top all the rest."

And, he pretty much guaranteed me that I would succeed, saying, 

"Yes! You will, indeed!"

 But he never once mentioned:

Andrew.

Technically speaking,

Andrew was my colleague, the one to partner with when it was time to give workshops and meet with people who wanted to talk about how it is they should teach.

Technically speaking,

he was the just the guy with whom I got the job done.

But, over the span of two whole years, this hard working,
super smart, and all-around wonderful person
sat across from me from day to day,

and--somehow and inexplicably--

became my favorite view.
[I didn't make him pose or anything...]

Bonding over things we love--

things like tulips and passionate discussion of the existence
and/or non-existence of God--

this man challenged me, cared for me, encouraged me, tolerated me, listened to me and moved me, with love and with grace.
He also made me laugh.  Loudly.

And so you can imagine the heaviness of my heart when, 

this past Friday, 

we took our last working lunch.

We finished cleaning out our space,

and had our last moments of us-ness--

because our time at Schreyer is over, and we are moving on.

We met lots of people, we had great success.  We worked hard, and we worked well. We made progress where progress was waiting to be made.  And we did it, always, together.

Now, here, on this bittersweet side of a job well done, I reflect on our journey. I think on the ways Andrew made me my best.  And I remember Dr. Suess with his statement of passing and topping and beating the rest, and I realize that I, for one, am glad that Dr. Suess was wrong.  

In the future, when I look back on these years, the success will fade, the enjoyment of the work will paint a subtle backdrop, but what will remain is this warmth in my heart.

What will remain is this, my dear dear friend, because it is he that speaks of my greatest success.

Dissertation Do's and Don'ts

If I were to write a "how to dissertate" book someday, here are some things I might include:

DO: Email yourself your document, as you diligently change it, every single day, for the peace of mind of knowing that it is in cyber space, waiting for you, should anything disastrous happen to your computer.

DON'T: Allow anything disastrous to happen to your computer, such as--oh, I don't know--having an entire cup of coffee knocked across the surface of it.

That's it for now.

[Actually, that might be all that people really need to know...?]

Keep on, Keeping on

Have you ever had a day like this?

A day where you feel like your nest has come crashing down,
and your eggs are splattered in the weeds nearby?

A day of: 

Defeat.

Recently, in these dissertation days, my day can feel like this before it even gets started.  I dredge myself out of my bed and place my feet on the floor, feeling like everything I hold dear is splattered there around them.

It's the daily grind of pulling my brain out of my head that's got me down, and the overwhelming sense that no matter how long and hard I work, this beast will never be all that I want it to be.  

Plus, I miss my life.

A long time ago, however, I learned that defeat is something you can give in to, but it's also something you can fight.   And fighting, it turns out, is deeply embedded in my bones.  

I'm a stinker, if nothing else.  

Hence, I have turned my vision these days to the beauty of nature,

 in my house,

 on my walk to work,

 and from  my deck view--

in all directions.

I have embraced the audacity of

 making questionable fashion choices,

and sitting with the God who is the only defense,
my only source of strength.

I have turned my focus to savoring moments of every day life,

 in gratitude for the necessities 

 and the extras I've been given, 

 and for the process that living life can be.

I have called myself to notice when the process leads to a product,

and that the product is healthy and good.

I have sought out new places to be, 

working alongside of the rest of the working people,

diligently observing how life goes on, flows forward,
and is full and thriving in all of its subtlety.

And, at the end of the day,
I have given myself permission to take a moment 

 to reflect on the connecting web of thought and word,

and to remember those

who are fighting with and for me.

At the end of the day,

I am speaking truth to myself, 

saying--

Listen to me, baby girl. 

This journey that you're on?  

It's amazing--

in all of its complexity.  

Keep on, keeping on.