Worth for Awhile

A large part of human nature’s beauty lies in our failures and follies. Perfect people are rarely very interesting. As a writer, creating ‘perfect’ characters is a sure-fire way to distance your readers and lose their interest. Why? Because no one wants to read about someone who always gets it right. Who can share commonality with that? And yet…our reality is often ruled by what we, as actual humans, fail at.

When thinking about human frailty and my own failings I stumbled across the largest stone in my path of late; Self-Worth.

I know I’m not alone. I see you out there.

It’s more than fair to say that we are comparative beings. The media propagates it, competitive constructs in work and school demand it, and long-standing cultural threads tie our successes (and our failures) to what we’re worth in the eyes of the rest of the world.

Its the single most destructive lie we’ve ever been told.

And its easy to say that it doesn’t affect us. That we don’t care how we stand in relation to other people, that we don’t have a competitive nature, that we don’t feel the need to be anything else than what we are. I say those things all the time. And they rarely do more than offer a feeble disguise over the surface of self-doubt.

If we didn’t care, we’d cease to try. We’d stop looking for ways to improve. But something that should drive our greatness often tears us apart and we are left with shreds of the human we used to be, torn apart in an effort to create something more inspirational in the eyes of the world.

I was recently told, by a very generous soul, that my self-worth shouldn’t come from anyone but myself. That I couldn’t let the berating, criticism, or comparisons of the world let me feel any less than what I was worth. That it wasn’t the outside that should decide, but what was inside of me.

So it made me wonder; What am I worth?

In terms of chemistry, my physical make-up is probably no more than about $3.00 worth of material.

If you broke down my daily tasks and how much you’d have to pay someone else to do them, some would say I’d be worth about $140,000 a year. If you based my worth on what I contribute to the world with my writing we’re looking at a solid $50 a year. Monetarily, its not very impressive. And again, I’m basing my worth on what other’s consider useful tasks/materials.

So what am I worth? What are you worth? Sit still with yourself and ask the question:

“What do I do, what am I, that matters to me? That impacts the world? That brings me contentment?”

Deep…yes. Sometimes we gotta get past the cloak of simple thought to really understand why we matter. We have to, for the sake of our own self-preservation. After all; if you don’t see worth in yourself, you start to feel like a burden to the people you love. And all sorts of ugly outcomes arise from that train of thought…trust me, I’ve been building a scary set of tracks in that direction myself of late.

So I sat down, prompted by my friend’s words and suffering through a trough of depression, and asked myself what I was worth.

I came to the conclusion that for a long time I’ve let the words and actions of other people (in their own beautiful human imperfection) determine my self worth. If they were mad at something in our shared existence, I took it on as a fault of mine. As a problem that I didn’t fix or prevent. If comments were made about appearance, I took the darkest path of focusing on my imperfections and felt the need to correct them by any strange and unhealthy way possible.

It left me wanting and sick.

Why do I let my brain do that?

Because we’re taught to improve. To impress. To be better. To strive for more. Instead of just being what and who we are and understanding that we aren’t responsible for other people’s happiness or conforming to ideas of perfection. We must set boundaries to the information we let affect us. Even my friend’s well intentioned advice was still someone on the outside telling me what to think about my self worth. It’s not about letting someone tell me I am worth-while. Its about knowing my own worth and not letting the outside world sway that knowledge either negatively or positively.

Now there are times, when someone who loves us may come to us with good intention, and full hearts and offer us a viewpoint about something destructive they see in us. There are times when someone has honest praise to offer. With careful appreciation of the information we’re given we can chose to look at it with neutrality and see if there is helpful advice within it, and take it as an opportunity for self-reflection.

I love you guys, for all you are. Just as you are. Have a beautiful week and stretch your brains and hearts to fit the worth inside of you. It’s there.

“My dear,
In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love.
In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile.
In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm.
I realized, through it all, that…
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.
And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.

Truly yours,
Albert Camus”

Two Ears, One Mouth: The Power of Listening for Writers

I know it’s been a pretty poetry-heavy blog of late and I’m honestly not apologetic about that. Poetry is a grace that fits into my life better these days. It’s more accessible to write, to slip my fingers into it’s lines, and to distill so many of the big and difficult feelings I’m currently holding. If you don’t poetry, you should. (Yes, it’s a verb, and a noun). But for today, I wanted to write about something I think is a skill whose value is immeasurable for writers.

The power to listen. Now, I’ve always been kind of a quiet kid (until I know you better, then good luck getting me to shut up) and was subjected to all kinds of comments. “Doesn’t she know how to talk?”, “I guess she’s just not much of a joiner, huh?”, “She’s so quiet.” All of this and more almost berated me into more silence until I was into my adulthood, and was forced to be more proactive in communicating. Still, to this day, in a large crowd of people, I prefer to be the one slinging one question into the crowd and then softly withdrawing to the sidelines to watch the frenzy.

Because I learn more this way.

First: I learn about character, history (or backstory), as well as flaws and strengths. In the listening to their words, their thoughts, their stories in total, yes, but also… I learn how they speak, I listen for intonations, and body cues. I listen for changes in pitch and pace, I listen for old dialects and idioms sneaking through. I listen with my eyes to watch the way their hands talk, their body nervous or posturing. I listen to the subtext of history behind it all. I learn about humans, and their story when I listen. And learning about humans is such a fundamental skill for writers to have. Not because we want to poach a character straight out of our monthly PTA meeting (well, maybe you do, I’m not here to judge) but so that when we sit down with our characters we can visualize them. As they are, with all of their imperfections and mannerisms, and really start to build a world true to what they’re saying in words, thoughts, and actions.

Second, and perhaps more utilitarian, I learn about the world. Listening to people opens me up to experiences and knowledge that I don’t have, maybe that I may have never even wondered about. And every story that settles into my encyclopedia brain is a new idea, a richer understanding of an old idea, and a bigger picture of this fantastical world. Every human being is a conduit to experience I don’t have enough years to gather myself. What a wonderful way to learn, am I right?

Third, and this is a natural consequence of the last point, listening to someone is a sign of respect, of interest, and on some level, love and acknowledgment of their existence, their struggle, and their worth in the world. More than just getting that character quirk you’ve been struggling with for months, or learning that a group of hippos is called a ‘bloat’, you are validating the experiences and importance of another person’s life. You are willingly giving them your time and attention (finite resources) and being present with them. That matters. More than just as a writer, but as a human being.

So–next time you’re in a crowd, writer… pay attention. Focus in, feel the presence of being in someone’s audience and listen to the story they show and tell you. It may lead to the next grand idea, it may help you unstick your work, or it may just help another human being feel seen.

Poetry 3-14-24

In honor of spring, I’ve dug this little gem out of one of the many unmarked-but-filled journals in my desk. My poor children will one day find all of these scratchings and will have to make sense of them, or they may chose to burn them (I will be gone and won’t offer protest). I hope some of my words survive. So they know the normalcy of a heart, wild-raging and how undefinable a life really is.

Sown

I am wakening
though this small seed planted
seems stagnant
and it is cold and dark
the surrounding day
so dense and ungiving
but the seed is planted
and every seed has
potential
for awakening

And this seed...
I know her concrete shell
her impervious coat
you think the darker,
the colder,
the absolute absence of love
would kill her
dead pod in ground
served justice for even thinking
of blooming on her own

But you do not know this seed,
no one does
except me.
I knew when I plucked her
from my heart in the solitary depths of
lovely dispair, and whispered
incantations of self-worth
of imperviousness
of an unbreakable shell
an unkillable flame
the magic was set and
it no longer needed
what living things needed
to survive

because she is survival
and her words will tendril
into the hard pack of your indifference
and she will feed off of your apathy
and she will shoot forth
arms to the sky
that you cannot hold down
with guilt or obligations
or crocodile tears

because she is the boundless
and unshakable irreverence
of me,
and I will awaken
in the absence of your love

Poetry 8-24-2023

Discovery

I did not find myself
in the bottom of a glass
The burn to numb poison
and all the untethering promises
she made

I did not find myself in 
the narcissistic hearts
parading in poets' clothing
promising ideas of my self-worth
while making me kneel before them

I did not find myself
by losing pounds
or cutting hair
or searing the wrinkles of 
a thousand laughs away

I did not find myself
by giving my love and my years
away to those who only wanted
to own me
collect me, 
objectify and fantasize
who never gave credit to the soul within 
only loved
the pretty, fading paper

I found myself beneath
the starlit sky, high up
in a meadow between mountains
cold and alive
brave and scared
breathing deep as though
it was my first air taken

I found myself in tumbling footfalls
one after another, up and down
careening not controlled
alonside pain
pacing with anxiety
but listening to my own heart
beating out

you can
     you can
         you can

I found myself in the holy land
of pine needles 
and mocking bird cries
silent stage, calm in a chaotic world
and herons in silent coasting flight above me
communing with their soul's solitude
in search of quiet shores

I found myself between pages 
and tattooed in ink
words and ideas and truths 
unknown to any other heart but my own
learning that, 
without meeting requirements first

I am enough
     I am brave
         I deserve love

I found myself in the faces
of women I've raised
to listen to themselves in ways
I am still learning
I found myself in their beautiful complexity
knowing I would never allow them to be hurt
in the ways I have accepted hurt for myself

I am finding myself 
and it has taken a lifetime
I just hope
I can take my heart
and lead her away from the dark

I hope I can find myself 
in time.

Poetry 2-23-23

So, the week, again got ahead of me and I didn’t get a new post written. So, I went back to look at what I was doing this time last year. It would seem I’m perpetually behind. But at least I’m consistent? Please enjoy a little self-love talk, in this, the final week of Februrary.

(original post 2-24-2022)

I had planned a vibrant book review. But some weeks the flow of energy is a low and staggered and we have to return to center ourselves. This week, it’s all about finding my solid ground again, being my own safe space, and casting away the self doubt that has saturated my soul.

How often are we paralyzed by the expectations we put on ourselves? By what we want to be for others, or because of others. How often are we overcome with despair when we fail to meet those expectations, to garner that acceptance, to find that love?

Here is what I know to be true–

Yours is the only heart you will have for your whole life time. From its very first beat. Until its last.

Lovers, spouses, friends, parents, even children will come and go in your life, in the natural waxing and waning of time and experience. But your heart, your soul, your presence is the only one you get to spend the entire journey with. So take care of your vessel…from the engine, to the machinery, the fuel and the fire. Take care of you. Love you. Believe in you.

And now, this.

Photo by Abdullah Ghatasheh on Pexels.com
Becoming

Was there ever such a silence as this?
sun warmed skin and the echo of
small chirping voices
amongst the barking magpie and
reverberation of holy time
etched into the sides of mountains
silent, pine needle prayer

I’ve been a complacent wanderer
following the strongest flow
eyes on wayward trails
branching
never forward, exactly
but they tempt places I yearn
to wander

and it feels
like losing my ground
or finding it.

It’s in the din of life
the marked and constant boxes
that we lose our true course
give away our feet on earth
and forget 
silent places to find
ourselves.

I miss these mountains
and cultivating space between
what I dreamed of becoming and
what I’ve become.

What have I become?

Soul Care

I’m not sure it’s a good sign when my first blog post of the year is late, but I think it’s probably an honest representation of my life. And let’s be fair, it’s only late by a few hours.

I had a busy year in 2022, and some of the seeds I planted are now bearing a shit-ton of fruit (mostly in the form of edits, publishing, book panels, and conferences) so I’m finding I rarely have time to brush my teeth, let alone keep up on my extraneous writing, teach my classes, love on my kids while I still have them around, and walk my dog. (sorry River, you great house hippo) but I’m not complaining.

Because in times of less time, I’ve discovered that I’m forced to let go of something. Sometimes it’s something I really wanted to do, or have, or pursue…but sometimes we have a brilliant opportunity to let go of something we’ve been holding on to for far too long that has been wasting our precious time and effort. I’m not saying it’s easy, but I will say it is worth it.


Think of this as your beginning of the year pep talk, not just for writing but for living.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Arrive gently into this year, or arrive like a fucking lion, all I ask is that you arrive. Be your own biggest advocate. If something has been weighing you down, impeding your growth, causing you to lose sleep or pick up the bottle a little too frequently, that thing does not deserve a place in your one precious life.

Take a deep breath, and take stock of the things in your life worth holding on to. You only get so many trips around the sun so travel light.

Are there relationships or situations that poison you? Where is the toxic pull coming from that robs you of your sleep, of your ability to regulate your emotions without coping mechanisms? What is the root of your distress and unease? Who or what is draining your energy?

Because the truth remains that whether you are seeking peace or a revolution you will not find either if you’re expending your energy in undeserving places.

Self-care is important but even more so is soul care (I’m not talking taking yourself to church and repenting—you sassy heathen *kiss*). Soul care means that you don’t accept things, people, situations, or habits that destroy, harm, or otherwise dull the luster of your soul. We all were born within the brilliant light of opalescent divinity, and darlin’, you were meant shine.

So when you drive to work and feel your stomach tie itself into knots. Or go out to meet that friend and feel your teeth clenching. Or look at all the diet books on bookstore shelves and feel the heaviness of trying to make yourself small. Or when you sit down with that one family member, or across the table from your partner and you feel anything but calm, loved, inspired and supported then it’s time to let go.

This requires trust. Trust that the universe has a BBP (bigger, better plan) for you, and it’s your job to start taking steps towards it. Towards what makes you happy. Away from that job, that friend, impossible and disgusting expectations and judgements, relationships, projects, whatever. Whatever the weight. It’s not meant to be carried anymore.

You’ve been around long enough to know that you ARE enough and you deserve love and respect.

You do not need approval. From. Anyone.

Your purpose does not require permission.

You are steeped in the sensual glaze of wisdom and confidence.

You do not have to continue on any path that doesn’t serve your happiness.

There is no requirement to stay somewhere or with someone who does not help your divinity flourish and grow.

So this year I urge you…rather than starting off the year with outrageous and unrealistic expectations on yourself (that have probably been placed on you by a society of consumerism and vapid body shaming) to take stock first. If you are nervous in the gut, triggered by people and situations, lying awake at night or drinking too much just to numb all of the other feelings that jostle around in your brain…find the root of this dis-ease.

And find a way (therapy, journaling, communication with friends, your faith, saying ‘fuck it’ and moving to Cabo, whatever your go-to catharsis) to dig it out and plant something better.

Because time is non-refundable, and your life is not replicable or renewable. This is it. The one we get. I beg of you, do not spend it somewhere that doesn’t deserve your brilliant, opalescent divinity. Shine. As you are meant to.

Lessons From The Year

It was a goal heavy year. I talked briefly a few weeks ago about how to set up your own yearly goals in a manageable way, but today I want to talk about you. That’s right…not some bullet list on a webpage or a chart of tick-them-off boxes. I want to talk about the beautiful human on the other side of the screen. Stop looking over your shoulder, it’s you. I mean you.

Now maybe I know you, personally. Maybe we’ve never met. The point is, I think you’re amazing. You may not believe me. It’s okay. I’ve talked A LOT about not believing everything you read…and my words are no different. So allow me to offer proof.

This year has been tough. Hell, the last two have been a raging dumpster fire…for nearly everyone who wasn’t making a personal rocket ship to go play Spaceman Spiff while countless other humans suffered in poverty, starvation, and lack of medical care on the Earth. No wonder they were so anxious to leave for ten minutes and show how awesome it is to have money… but I digress…

The point I’m trying to make is that you’ve survived 100% of all your worst days.

A moment of silence for 2021...

At the start of a new year we have a tendency to look back (sometimes like Indian Jones on the destructive explosions of warplanes and tanks going over cliffs, shaking on torn knees, dirty, bent, beat to hell, and wondering how we survived, still clinging to our favorite hats) and worry that the next year will only be worse—Nazis, aliens…Shia LaBeouf—it could get a lot worse.

But it could get a whole lot better.

And we have some say in that. Now, we don’t always have a say in the bigger things of the world. I’ll never change the inequality of women or be able to change the mind of every little girl who’s been told, (like her mother and her mother before her…and so on) that being skinny is the height of desirability and beauty.

Photo by Daria Obymaha on Pexels.com

But I can shift the way I speak around my daughters. I can shift the way I talk to my friends (and speak up for them when they cannot speak well of themselves). I can shift the way I talk to myself.

I can’t fight capitalism. But I can support companies that  pay their workers a living wage. I can’t change lobbyists, or billionaires, or any number of corrupt, societal ruining forces. But I can lend a helping hand. I can volunteer. I can protest. I can stand up and use my voice, I can vote…

When we look at the battles ahead of us in this new year, let us pick ones we can charge into wisely. And please, for the love of mental health, let us start with the ones in our own heads.

The direction of your life, the ability to lift yourself above old and destructive habits has everything to do with how you speak to yourself. Your voice is the only one in your head 24/7. Your body is the only one you live in. Your voice, your mind, your heart, your body—every single one of those things is beautiful. Every one of them is enough. And they (read: you) deserve to be taken care of, loved, and respected.

So when we look into this new year, I only ask that you change one thing.

I want you to change how you talk to yourself. Be bigger than what the world wants you to be. Take up space and use that space to spread compassion and acceptance. Be outspoken with your understanding, your need for justice, and most of all, be outspoken with love.

Life is short. This could be the first year of a long and beautiful rest-of-your-life.

It could be your last year on Earth.

You simply do not know, so spend it with your heart and passions in mind. Draw and hold boundaries where they need to be and do not apologize for cutting out the people who are hurtful or refuse to acknowledge that you are enough. Speak well of yourself. Speak kindly to yourself. Accept every soul-bump as part of being beautifully human. Don’t be cruel, but take no bullshit.

We humans–we’re a beautiful mess. Falling in and out of love, drunk on passion and enthusiasm one minute, and stumbling into the gutter of disappointment the next. I say, just do your best, little human. Until you know better, then do the better. Be kind to yourself, be kind to others. But don’t give away your light and energy to people who don’t appreciate and return it.

It’s just that simple. And just that complex. It’s just. that. human.

Stay safe until the new year and beyond.