Writer's Block

Once upon a time I used to write rather frequently. Usually when I wasn't supposed to - i.e. mid class. It was usually accompanied by doodle and sketching (which I wasn't supposed to be doing either) and occasional meditative contemplations on morality and existence and sometimes even things as mundane as the intricacies of the human hand. I keep a journal to keep myself writing. Or rather, I KEPT a journal for that purpose. It still sits beside the bed, covered in dust, outdated and in sore need of a new entry. Most of my updating happens here, on the internet.

Part of this is because I simply don't know what to say to paper anymore. I used to write random stories, have conversations written out between my hands (the left had terrible handwriting, and was a darker persona), stray thoughts that came to mind. When I type it's easier to follow stream of consciousness because my fingers don't ache after ten minutes of solid writing and I don't forget where I was headed with a train of thought before I'm done writing it down. Also, it's easier to go back and fix mistakes.

But there's a romantic part of me that knows that writing is a much more elegant, classic, permanent means of creation. It can be carried into the woods, read by candle light, passed down from generation to generation. It can survive long after hardware and software has made this or that program obsolete. I lost a short story when Windows went from Works to Word, simply because I no longer had the means to retrieve it. A book or journal is limited only by user's ability to read it, the language through sight and recognition of characters.

But what do I tell my journal, long since neglected in favor of my electronic world? What do I write when my fingers cramp and eyes get tired or glaring at the stubborn pages?

And my drawing, too, has suffered. Once I could conjure worlds and personalities from a pen, breathing life into art with a stroke of a pencil. Now? Now I struggle to think of what to draw. A blank page, FULL of possibility!... but I do nothing, paralyzed by my indecision. The words, the worlds... my pen has lost it's edge, my pencil is broken, my armor and shield in the creative process are dull and colorless.

But perhaps I am still creating, here, where you can read it. Where I can revisit it. Here, where it - far more than my simple written journal - can possibly tough the heart of someone else. Perhaps it will conjure to mind a memory or stray thought of your own.

And in that, I am satisfied.

That Time o' Year

February seems to invoke different reactions in different people. For some it's Groundhog Day and a time to think on the end of Winter. For others it's Candlemas, for still others it's Imbolc, both celebrations with a focus on Winter's waning and Spring's stirring. Others think of Valentine's Day - to the lonelier folk it's Corporate Love Day - a celebration of love (or, to the embittered, a reminder of heartache). That's the most common one I find. For a few select World of Warcraft players, it's the week of "Love Is In The Air", and for a few weekend warriors (or folks in desperate need of a vacation) it's the month with all those Presidential birthdays in it.

To me, it's that cold dark month with a few more causes for being happy than January, which always strikes me as the loneliest and darkest month. I mean, January is the month a lot of folks rip down their decorations and turn off their twinkling lights, tossing dried and dead trees to the curb and basically bending their will toward going back to work post-hangover from all the holiday cheer and New Year celebrations. It is incredibly dark, due to the recent passing of the Winter Solstice, and cold... and more grey and hollow for all the lack of holiday spirit that keeps so many people afloat. No bright ribbons or gaily adorned wreathes. No reminders for parties or Salvation Army drives. No Santas, no sugar cookies, no lit reindeer on front lawns. Cold. Dark. Absent.

So February - while still chilly and grey - seems so much brighter for all the boxes of candies with crinkling pink and red crepe paper held by glass-eyed plushies. The little hearts and balloons do much to chase the chill away, the flowers in pots or in damp buckets neatly arranged just so warm the heart and thaw out the smiles. Granted, to me it's mainly an excuse to cuddle plush kitties and scarf down more chocolate than is really healthy, inhaling deeply of freshly cut roses, for while I don't feel a need or desire to revel in the holiday itself, I don't mind taking in the sights and smells (and tastes) while they're available.

But more than that, February is the month of Pantheacon, a once-a-year event dedicated to the exploration, refinement, and practice of alternative spiritualities. This year we have a fair representation from ancient Hebrew culture, covering some of their more in-depth astrology as well as some of their philosophical points. The theme is "Back to Basics", something that everyone could benefit by covering every now and again, with several classes ending in "101". Not least among these being Psychic Self Defense, a class I took last year with surprising and profound results. As with the convention every year, there are a few classes and workshops I have no interest in, some that are just plain silly, and some bordering on the creepily weird. But a good number of these classes are useful and insightful, providing perspectives on multiple spiritual paths.

So I am looking forward to this weekend. I will have to pack, and take many warm clothes, as being somewhat northward from here it will be chilly. Fortunately, unlike last year, it shouldn't be a torrential downpour, just a threat of a little rain on Friday. I feel hopeful about this trip, which is my Valentine's Day present... and I plan to make the most of it. I will be busy from early morning to late night four four days, studying and learning. It will be a good weekend.

Temptation

In the efforts I am undertaking in order to wrestle my finances into something resembling beneficial, I am still tackling my goals set at New Year. I've taken to ignoring my spreadsheet, not because it doesn't work but simply because I forget to use it. Some of the goals I know enough to attempt automatically, such as drinking 64 ounces of water a day, or stretching for ten minutes. Some of them have become less important, like crafting every day or writing. Some goals have suddenly become more important, and need extra tending to. So, somehow I got the idea of going back to my "box".

The box is a simple square with each side labeled for an aspect of my life: Emotional, things like self expression and relationships; Mental, for things like career and money matters; Physical, for all the stuff pertaining to my corporeal form; and Spiritual, pertaining to my personal paradigm and growth therein. On the piece of paper with this box at the top, I write the day's ate, and in a descending list, the initials for each side. It looks a bit silly, with the date and then "PEMS" listed down the page, but it's important. Next to each initial, I rank myself in that area from one to ten, ten being the best I know how to be and one being the worst I've ever felt. Then, I assess the ranking I've given myself, and write three little goals for the day in each area (simple and easy things, like "take a hot bath" or "go for a walk") that might boost that rank a bit.

See, I've discovered that lofty goals are great and all, but it gets really easy to get bogged down in the process. Day-to-day life becomes consumed by the larger goals and the attaining becomes almost more hazardous to the health than the benefit at the end is worth. So the smaller, easy-to-attain goals for the day give me the daily lift I need to keep going. So far it's been highly beneficial. I drink my water, take my medication, make the bed, get up and move around instead of slumping for hours on end at my desk, and so on.

But one little nagging thing keeps coming back to me. The little temptations are almost as easy to give into as the little goals are to attain.

For example, I want to be healthier. But those little candies on my co-worker's desk are too easy to access, too easy to say "I'll just have ONE more" to. The biggest challenge lately is soda, which I KNOW isn't a good idea, but the addiction I once had has reared its ugly head again and I'll allow myself one... to end up quenching my thirst on that and not finishing my water intake goal. The little distractions are too easy to give in to, and it makes the process terribly challenging. For just as a large goal can be supplemented by a host of smaller ones, it can be waylaid rather substantially by a horde of little vices each taking its own bite like a school of piranha taking down a cow.

So here I am, taking baby steps and trying to swat away the tiny gnats of detraction.

Lead me not into temptation, I'm already finding it everywhere anyway.