The Power of O Gbona Vivi

In one of my former lives, I taught English for the Peace Corps in the West African country of Togo. I rented two rooms in a compound from a sweet older gentleman named Leon Mebounou. M. Mebounou considered himself my in loco parentis. It worried him that I was a young, single woman far away from my home and unsupervised by my family. When the male Peace Corps volunteer in my village began spending a lot of time visiting me, he arranged for a little engagement ceremony for us, just to be on the safe side.
M. Mebounou and I had long, wonderful talks. One day he told me, "You Americans rush around too much. We have a proverb: O gbona vivi. It means you only breathe one breath at a time. Relax and take things little by little. When you get back to America, tell them this."
I've been pretty faithful to my mission to deliver this message to people I've met over the years. I even wrote a song about it. But it popped into my head again the other day when I was raking grass, and I thought about how useful it has been in my life.
It was useful when I looked at all the grass I had left to rake. I realized that I only had to rake this little section, and this little section, and this little section . . . I didn't have to rake the whole yard at once.
It's useful when I start up the hill that begins the route of my morning walk. I only have to walk to that daisy, and then to that stick, and then to that beer can. I don't have to make it to the top all at once.
And it was amazingly useful when I was working on my novel. Me, who had never written anything longer than 1000 words! But I could do it, thirty minutes at a time--this 200 words, and then this 200 words, and then this 200 words. . . .
Akpe nto, M. Mebounou!

NOW I've Done It!

I've officially announced my retirement--no, my graduation. I feel the way I did when I graduated from college, ready and eager for what's to come. My friend Dimitrea put it beautifully: "I think the title retiring is for those who have been pooped out from what they've chosen to do, but I think in your case what you've chosen to do has only put you in a position to pursue your dreams more fully."

Chris Clark decided I was really serious about leaving this time and set aside some time for a presentation at a recent gathering at Boyds Mills, although my official last day isn't until August 25. That's Kent Johnson, the CEO of Highlights, on the right. He's holding a framed print of a vintage Timbertoes strip done by John Gee--they know the way to my heart.

When it came time for me to say a few words, I decided to commit, the way you do when you're starting a diet. I told a tent full of people that I was leaving in order to write. I have witnesses. I have no excuses. I'm pursuing my dreams. Wish me luck!

Meet Cora!

Cora came home with me today. She is a miniature schnauzer. She had been at the shelter about three weeks. I think she has been well treated, but she has the air of someone who is not going to get too attached until she's sure. She had been a breed dog for schnoodles. The people at the shelter said she was looking for a nice place to retire, so I'm hoping she'll enjoy the view from my porch and the lack of amorous poodles. I'm looking forward to our sharing the adventure of retirement.

Things That Are Easier Than Writing

My friend Harriett pointed out in her blog that reading religious pamphlets left at your door is easier than writing, which is just one reason working at home can be distracting. That inspired me to come up with a partial list of other things that are easier to do than writing:
1. Weeding the garden. I have a bed that is nothing but waist-high weeds. I was just going to pull a few, to see how easy it was. It was easier than writing. An hour later, I had weeded half the bed.
2. Writing letters. I hardly ever write letters. Today I wrote four.
3. Picking raspberries. Not just a handful. Every one I could find.
4. Combing the cat. And I have a cat you can comb for an hour and still remove mounds of loose hair. Some day, I think, she'll completely unravel.
5. Cleaning out my e-mail in-box, reading every e-mail in the process, and doing a little comparison shopping on the computer being advertised on the side of the screen.

Jane Yolen's famous advice, "Butt in chair," is hard to follow. It seems easy. Just settle down in front of my computer and stay there (and stay off the Internet). Some days, when the golden light of inspiration flows through my fingers, it is easy. Those days, I look around after two hours and say, "Where did the time go?" But other days (today, for example), when each word has to be pulled out of my brain like a stubborn dandelion, it is excruciating. I don't want to settle down. I want a glass of water. I want a cookie. I want to go out and play.

But I think I'm figuring it out. Even though I've heard it over and over and have even preached it to others, it's just now sinking in. Writing is more likely to get done if I sit down and make myself available every day, whether I'm inspired or not.

But first I have to go to the bathroom . . .

On Groundhogs and Puppy Dogs

I'm going to have to make a big decision. I'm under siege from a herd of groundhogs who are circling closer and closer to my fenced-in garden. They are also tunneling under my shed and under my house. It's only a matter of time until disaster strikes. I've tried doing the humane thing, setting out a Havahart trap baited with a slice of apple scented with vanilla. This is apparently sure-fire groundhog candy. Last year when I caught a groundhog, I put the trap in the back of my car and drove to some woods two miles away. I opened the door and the groundhog ran out, did a U-turn and headed toward my house. I think it beat me back. This year when I managed to catch one, I didn't make that mistake. I drove across the Delaware River on a one-lane bridge and let it go in a park. That groundhog will either have to swim, cross that bridge, or hitchhike to come home. The trouble is, the rest of the groundhogs have somehow figured out how to get the apple without releasing the trapdoor. So that's not working. I'm not into guns or poison or hiring people who are (yet). What to do?
I realized one day that I didn't have this problem when I had Sisko. He was a peaceful-natured dog, but groundhogs annoyed him, and he would chase them into their burrows when he got a chance.
The solution seems obvious. I looked at dogs at rescue shelters online and saw several I could imagine bringing home. Unfortunately, they were all located hours away. And it feels a lot like online dating. Glowing descriptions so often don't match reality. Then I saw Jo Jo on the Web site of the local shelter. She's just what I had in mind: a small terrier mix, not too young and not too old. However, when I went to see her, there was a problem. Her puppies had just been weaned and were in a cage down the hall. She could hear them, and she was worried about them--too worried to pay any attention to me.
I might give it a week and go check on her again. But the cooling-off period is giving me a chance to have second thoughts. Do I really want another dog? As is, I'm free to take off for the city or a writing retreat or a workshop whenever I want. I don't have to have my train of thought interrupted when I'm writing to let a dog in or out. I don't have to let a dog out at four o'clock on a winter morning. I don't have any vet bills.
On the other hand, the companionship of a compatible dog is hard to beat. And there are those groundhogs . . .

Allies

When you think about it, a hero almost never goes off on a quest alone. Luke had Han and Leia; Frodo had Sam and the rest of the Fellowship; Dorothy had the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodsman, and the Lion.

I have sometimes worried about a lack of allies. Having allies seems to be a sign that you are on the right track, and I tend to be a loner rather than a natural networker. I have been gratified by the encouraging responses I have received about this blog and about my writing. Thank you. Your support means a lot.

I remembered another thing about allies. They appear once you actually begin your journey, not when you're sitting at home thinking about it.

I feel that I'm setting off in good company.

Ruts and Rivers

I have been busy lately trying to figure out how to schedule my time--how many hours for revising manuscripts, working on new manuscripts, brainstorming story ideas, contacting publishers, gardening, and so on, and so on, and becoming more and more frustrated. Then it occurred to me that I have been trying to force my new life into the pattern of my old life of office hours and deadlines. The point of my life now, it occurred to me, is to explore and to grow. (NB: To any prospective clients who may read this, I'm still very good at deadlines when I need to be.)

At a workshop I attended, we cut out words and images from magazines for two collages, one titled"Rut," and one titled "River." On my "rut" collage, there are words like "control freak," "comfort zone," "boundaries," "problems," "worried," and "the system." The images include a robot, a traffic jam, a crowd of pedestrians, a stop sign, a watch, and Queen Elizabeth. For "river," I chose "courage," "celebrate, "yes," "explore," "curiosity," "wonders,"--you get the idea. There's a picture of the earth from space, a mountain hiker, a meandering stream, a kayaker, a shaman in a technicolor blanket, and a large bear. As inviting as the river is, a rut is where I usually find my mind.

We are creatures of habit. In her book Radical Acceptance, Tara Brach tells about a tiger at the Washington Zoo. For years the tiger was kept in a 12' by 12' cage. At last a spacious new habitat was constructed for the tiger, with hills and trees and plenty of room to roam. But to the end of her days, the tiger stayed in a corner of the habitat, pacing a bare patch of ground 12' by 12'. Whenever I think of this story, it reminds me to question all my self-imposed boundaries.

I asked some writing friends how they stay creative. Do something nonverbal, they said. Play. Take walks. Work with your hands. Empty your mind. "I can't work unless I'm happy," one said. She makes herself happy by creating wonderful little cloth dolls.

So I do these things with a new appreciation of how they feed my life and keep me flowing with the river and out of the rut.

The Digital Photography School invites its members to enter a contest with a new theme each week. You can see a list of themes here. I don't aspire to enter the contests, but I love looking at the creative ways the winners have interpreted the themes. This morning, I took my camera along on my walk and used one of the themes, "Lines," as a way to focus my attention. Looking at the world through a camera, I notice details I would otherwise miss. And looking for "lines" was a surprising way to interact with scenery I see every day. I brought home several ideas for poems that I'll work on.