A Simple Blessing

I was working on the Courage post early this morning when I realized that I could hear a true symphony of bird song outside. I needed a short break, so I sat on the patio to listen.

As I sat, watching the birds flit about, sunlight all at once bloomed over the mountain horizon, casting all it touched with the pure glory of a new day.

Suddenly the hymn means everything.

Courage

Things are...rough...at the moment. The Massive Neon Question Mark persists, and we're watching a lot of hopes and expectations wither.

The past several years have been a study in storms, and a test of resilience. It seemed we hadn't had time to recover from one massive wave before another one broke upon us. Lost loved ones, health problems, lost career, one. after. the other. And it was hard to live through these trials, or this one extended trial, without wondering if, perhaps, we did something to deserve it. That God was punishing us. It's a hard possibility to consider without somehow turning God into a cosmic karmic scale or a jilted lover. And it's also hard to stop that first question "did I do something?" from overwhelming the heart. We start sifting and pawing through our recent lives looking for sins or transgressions big enough to warrant This. All the while wondering about the validity of scriptures that promise God's favor and answered prayers in return for faithfulness. "Ask and it shall be given unto you." We asked! We pretty much begged. Enough, please, enough. No more. Let this one thing go right so we can leave this battle field behind.

It's no wonder, really, that Job's friends thought he must have been pretty awful for all those things to happen to him. God must truly have it out for him. It's easy for us to accept Job's situation, bracketed, as it were, by the knowledge that God allowed Job's trials to happen because he was worthy and faithful and not because he deserved retribution. It's harder to consider that, perhaps, we are in the same boat. This isn't happening because God has his celestial finger on the Smite Button.

It's happening because it's happening.

There's a song lodged in my mind at the moment. I can't remember the lyrics to any part but the chorus, so just four lines repeat.

Sometimes he calms the storm, with a whispered "peace, be still."
He can settle any sea, but it doesn't mean he will.
Sometimes he holds us close, and lets the wind and waves go wild.
Sometimes he calms the storm, and other times he calms his child.

 Trials and tragedies don't happen because God is some sadistic tyrant scowling at us over his abacus of tallied transgressions. They happen because they happen. And more often than not, God doesn't calm the storm. A calm sea does not a skillful sailor make, whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger, etc. More often than not, the storm will continue to rage, and all we can do is pray for the peace and strength to endure it.

I didn't really understand the metaphor of God as a potter until recently. Creating a clay pot requires the skillful application of pressure. Sometimes from the outside in (events in life), and sometimes from the inside out (spiritual). Most often, it's both simultaneously. Without pressure, the clay is just a lump. Useless. Pressure from only the outside makes a better formed lump, good for a door stop or maybe a paper weight but not much else. Pressure from only the inside is an explosion. Apply both at once, you make a vessel. And that's the whole point.

It's not easy, and it can be incredibly painful, but it's necessary.

This is what I keep reminding myself of while the Massive Neon Question Mark exists and while loved ones die and while nightmares come to pass. It happens because it happens, and rather than collapse from the pressure, I ask God for peace.

Faith

"Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen..."

I'm starting with Faith because it is, for me, the hardest, most elusive element of them all. Belief in deity seems hard-wired in me, which is a blessing, since I question everything else. Though belief and faith are separate, they are fibers of the same fabric. A person can believe God exists, but for various reasons (emotional trauma, questions about the nature of God, etc.) might not have faith in him. It's easy to have faith when it seems God's plan for me coincides with my own desires, but when that plan takes an unexpected hairpin turn, when prayers aren't answered how I want and circumstances become precarious, I hesitate. Sure, all things work for good, but that doesn't mean everything will be easy. When the difficulties hit, when it feels like I can't see beyond my outstretched fingertips, when the future is a vast fog, the only thing that keeps me out of despair is faith.

I'm writing this from a hotel room 11 hours from home. Dave has a residency interview tomorrow, and he has more before the end of the month. This is his last year in medical school, and we're in the final months. In March, after all of his interviews are completed, we'll learn where the next phase of our life will take place. Maybe we'll stay in El Paso, maybe we'll end up in Edinburg, TX, or Rapid City, SD, or Delaware or Pennsylvania, or somewhere entirely unexpected. If we match at all. We've been slammed by wave after wave of setbacks, tragic deaths (both of our mothers, two years apart), and we've watched our possibilities shrink. Right now, all I can do is trust that God's plan includes some relief soon.

But that trust is hesitant, because there's still the looming possibility that some fresh tragedy waits ahead. I trust that God will help us, that he has carried us through all we have endured these last few years, and he won't neglect us. That doesn't mean I'll run headlong into the fog. He might have to drag me along.

***

I wrote the above earlier in the month, and since today is the 31st, I figure I need to get this posted. It's been crazy the past few weeks. We drove to Pennsylvania, spent a week there for interviews, got stuck in PA during Winter Storm Jonas for three more days, and took another three days to get back to El Paso. All in a Dodge Ram with my father-in-law and his dog.

After all of the travel and endless hotel rooms and restaurants, we're in a holding pattern until March. All we can do is trust that whatever happens we will be ok.

I promise next month's entry will be more polished. ;)

2016 Theme

With 2015 firmly behind us, I'm ready to roll out the project I've prepared for 2016. Every month will have a focus along the lines of Fruits of the Spirit. Monthly topics are subject to change, but a tentative schedule is as follows:

January - Faith
February - Love
March - Hope
April - Patience
May - Perseverance
June - Prayer
July - Charity
August - Family and Friends
September - Peace
October - Joy
November - Gratitude
December - Forgiveness

Not every post will address the month's topic, and I hope to include posts about minimalism, and planning/organization, as well as the usual posts about things that bring me joy (like owl videos!).

I've never planned my blogs before, so this is quite an undertaking! The first post for the Month of Faith should be coming to you in the next week or so.

Resolutions 2016

SP&T is a year old! Last year, I opened the blog by sharing my resolutions for 2015, so I will continue the pattern.

For 2016, I have two resolutions. I worked them out before Christmas with my Passion Planner (if you haven't heard of the Passion Planner, check it out!), and have been looking into ways to use the planner and other resources to keep them. This past week I've tried a kind of soft run to see how my self-discipline works after the holidays. Perhaps I should add "strengthen self-discipline" to the top of my list.

My 2016 Resolutions!

1. I will finish writing and editing my novel and submit it for publication.
2. I will use healthy means to get my weight back to 150 lbs.

So, some background. I've been working on a series of novels for a few years, and while last year's resolution was to finish one of those novels, I put it off because I had this great NEW IDEA that  has grown into A Fine Gold Chain. Consequently, Courier has fallen by the wayside. As for Resolution 2, I've had a lot of trouble with my weight since developing Fibromyalgia and a few back problems that haven't responded to surgery. Last year, I started a vegetarian and gluten free diet recommended by my ND, and was responding quite well to it, but had to give it up because of money issues. I want to try it again, at least the vegetarian part. I also want to include more exercise (despite the fatigue and pain - it's always there, so might as well make it worthwhile). I chose 150 lbs as my target weight because it's doable under the circumstances, but it's still a significant goal.

I chose these two goals because I realized that 1.) writing is my passion, but I don't make it a priority; and 2.) my health problems, though not directly caused my weight, are exacerbated by it. I've let myself wallow in self-pity long enough (and yes, it is self-pity).

I've decided to add a couple of incentives to my resolutions, since I've discovered the anticipated joy of having accomplished the goal isn't enough to keep me going. I write steampunk, and I love a bit of cosplay, so my incentives are important parts to my costume. If I finish and submit Courier by the end of 2016, I'm buying myself a good pair of steampunk-style goggles. Brass and leather, not painted plastic. And if I weigh 150 lbs or less at the end of the year without resorting to unhealthy means (I have a history of eating disorders), I'm buying a good leather corset. I have elements for the rest of the costume, but the corset and goggles are my favorite parts.

I have a couple more goals in mind, but they aren't absolutely essential. My two resolutions are absolutes for me this year. I'll still work on A Fine Gold Chain - it's a welcome relief from Courier's darker feel, and I have a plan for SP&T this year as well.

Many blessings for your 2016!

Looking Back on 2015

When I made my list of 2015 resolutions last year, I put them in phone's planner app so I would look at them every day. And like anything you see every day, they disappeared over time. I stopped using the app, for one. The funny thing is, while most of the resolutions fell by the wayside by June, I inadvertently picked them back up after September. Dave and I made a point to read scriptures and pray together every night, and it has become ingrained in our nightly ritual. I started journaling again as well, which helps me work through a lot of the issues that come with re-evaluating and re-forming faith and beliefs. And I go to church again, which is a big achievement with an anxiety disorder.

In September, we closed a year since my mother-in-law's death, and we also lost her brother on Christmas Day. Since Dave started medical school in 2011, we've lost 4 loved ones, including both of our mothers. A blessing, though - my dad is cancer free and doing well!

I didn't finish writing my novels. And I didn't work out three times a week. To be honest, I didn't expect to keep all of these resolutions all year. I'm satisfied with what I did accomplish, and I know that in 2016 I can look forward. Winter and early spring this year will be full of stress and anxiety with residency interviews and Match. It's a comfort to know that we will have something stable, and that despite everything that may happen, we have a loving Father guiding us.

Advent

The Christmas season for me is a tangle of memories. When I was a child, my mom worked for the local Methodist church, and we attended services there for a while (we never were particularly regular church-goers). Advent was my favorite part of the year because as a family we would gather together on Sunday evenings (the one night during the week that we were all guaranteed to be home) to light the candles, read some scriptures, and sing songs from tattered old songbooks. My mom, who had been a florist and loved to make flower arrangements, made an Advent wreath, and I always loved seeing her set it out every year. I'm sure my mom would remember me being a little brat about presents, but when I think back to childhood Christmases, I don't remember the toys as much as I remember Sunday evening Advent time.

Over the years we stopped observing Advent. We began attending churches that don't follow the liturgical calendar. And while I would think fondly about Advent season when I read about it, I never thought about making it a family tradition in my own home. My husband is a Mormon, and I'm not sure I "fit" any particular denomination (though I find myself increasingly drawn back to my Methodist roots). This year, though I don't have a wreath or the colored candles, I've decided to introduce my husband to this beautiful lead-up to the Christmas season.

I did some research online and found the UMC's Advent materials with scripture references and short meditations. I was also happy to find Advent material from a 1989 issue of one of the LDS magazines, which should provide Dave some familiar ground. Since he grew up in the LDS church, he doesn't have much experience with other denominations. So I've used Advent to explain the liturgical calendar, the use of call-and-response, and set songs like the Doxology that are used every service at specific times. Sharing this information helps him understand where I'm coming from, and it helps me remember all of the things that I love about Methodist services.

Again, I don't have the candles or the wreath. I do have a plethora of tealights and a squat mason jar. And some votive holders somewhere. At the prescribed time in the reading, I lit the tealight in the mason jar and there we have the Hope candle! Suddenly, we have a new Christmas tradition in our home.

I'm grateful for all of the experiences that have led me to this point in my spiritual journey, and continue to inspire me. I'm also grateful for the patience of my Father in Heaven as I continue to wander and return.

Baby It's Cold Outside

Rapid City

Today I took a walk around the park next door, as a cold front blew in. I miss the cold, grass that doesn't hide burrs, the spicy scent of dried leaves. When I smelled that, my heart ached for the giant piles of leaves I used to jump into as a child. I walked next to the little stream that reflected the steel grey-blue of the sky. Imagined what it would be like to sit in that park in the summer. The stab of ache made me cry. I know it would be ridiculous to hope to see the rose garden in bloom. To one day find this place familiar. To hope this strongly makes disappointment all the harder. But I know that, should we need to be here, we will. 

Simple Pleasures

1. The aroma of ground coffee
2. Good strong coffee with enough flavor to not need milk or sugar (Starbucks's Sumatra, for example)
3. Clean, uncluttered spaces
4. The weight and rumble of a cat purring in my lap
5. Checking off all my to-do's for the day
6. Good tapioca pudding (the kind I found in Shipshewana, IN with shaved chocolate is the BEST!)
7. Finding money in my pocket unexpectedly
8. The smell of clean towels dried outside
9. Fresh cut grass
10. New books
11. Old book smell
12. Calla lilies
13. Coloring
14. A completed crochet project
15. Not setting an alarm for the next morning
16. Autumn leaves
17. Late afternoon Autumn sunlight
18. Cold fronts and warm blankets
19. Music chills
20. ...

One Thing At A Time

If I learned anything from practicing Buddhism, it's to slow down and focus, to really know that I'm doing something, rather than letting my mind wander as I work. I'm not perfect at it, not even good at it, really, but this purging and organizing exercise gives me plenty of opportunities to practice.

It's especially important for me to focus during this process because my normal cleaning endeavors may begin with cleaning the kitchen, but it will end with half of the bedroom closet dragged out and I've run out of energy before any of it is finished, resulting in chaos and massive amounts of frustration. So I choose one task and remind myself every minute or so - whenever the impulse hits to get something else done real quick - to stick to one task and finish it.

I've been taking a lot of inspiration from the KonMari technique of discarding. One important piece of advice is to go through items by use rather than by room. Today I chose to deal with my beauty products, make up, and hair supplies. Not the cleaning supplies, not the medical supplies, not the towels. Not the shower stuff. I had to limit myself so I could be thorough. Unlike the KonMari method, in which you gather all of the items in the category from all over the house to one central location and go through it all at once, I did it all in the bathroom. One bag designated for donation, another for trash, and a handful of different small boxes for organizing, I dragged everything out onto the floor and the counter.

I had a vision in my head of what I wanted. Nothing on the counter top except the toothbrushes in their pretty holder, and my little basket with my perfumes. Everything else put away. And while I had a design that I would pare my make up down to one day/night look, I couldn't do it. But I did get rid of all of the mineral make up that irritated my skin, and a bunch of stuff that I inherited from my mom. All of my make up brushes are in a canvas case, my make up arranged in a couple of little boxes and it all fits with plenty of room to spare in my travel case that fits just right in the cabinet. I even took out all of the wonky bobby pins and got all of my hair accessories in a little travel bag that also fits in the cabinet. Got rid of a bunch of lotions from Victoria's Secret that smelled better in the store. Got rid of one of the two flat-irons (though I straighten my hair maybe once a year). Nothing on the counter top except what I wanted. MUCH easier to clean!

Once I was done with that, I had to quelch the urge to push on through the cleaning supplies or the medical supplies. I had this feeling that if I didn't finish the whole bathroom that I hadn't accomplished anything. Truth was, I had used up my spoons for the day and I needed to rest before I pushed myself into a crash. I could tackle the other stuff later. I was one task closer to having a home that didn't frustrated me at every turn.

It's a long process, taking each area in turn according to energy level, but it's worth it, and the goal has become ample incentive. And I'm still developing habits as I go. 

Mayhem and Developing Habits

The closet is *still* not finished, and our stuff is still all over the place. We're waiting for maintenance to replace the long overhead shelves. I've put the large plastic tubs away after going through their contents.

I've been trying to follow the KonMari method, and I'm astonished at how much I was hanging on to because I felt I had to. I've also started reconsidering how my (very tiny) kitchen is organized. It's like looking at my apartment for the first time, to be honest, considering what works and what doesn't. Getting rid of unneeded stuff opens up space and possibilities.

During all of this mayhem, I've tried to develop habits I've wanted for a while. Despite a couple of years of staunch refusal, I have made a family binder. It's not completed yet, but I've been using the daily and sections. Since things are still in turmoil, I can't do all of the daily cleaning tasks, but I've kept up with the kitchen and bathroom, which is better than I was doing before! I wash dishes immediately after I'm finished with them, and make sure the dishes are all done and the stove top is cleaned before I go to bed. My husband has gotten into the habit of washing his dishes as well. I've only had to use the dish washer twice in the past couple of weeks! I don't have to make a massive effort to clean the kitchen before I make dinner. I have a weekly cleaning routine planned out that should keep the house manageable, which is important when I can't predict what my energy or pain level will be from one day to the next.

Part of the KonMari method is putting things back where they belong. Though we're still getting things done, I haven't found a home for everything yet, but I have designated certain places like my side table as specifically uncluttered areas and I keep it uncluttered. Even that isn't perfect yet, but it's a beacon of hope that everything will be clean soon!

Clearing Out Stuff

Dave and I came home from a month's rotation in Temple to discover our closet covered in mold. Water from a roof leak behind the wall had puddled in our closet's carpet. So we hauled everything out of the closet, threw away a lot, and we're now in the process of washing all of the clothes while maintenance finishes repairs.

I'd been wanting to go through that closet, anyway.

Ever since childhood when I first moved from Michigan to Texas, I've learned to welcome opportunities to donate or throw things away. I've moved over a dozen times, and every time I wonder where all this stuff came from. And I have no idea how much I've left behind in dumpsters and in Goodwill stores. But when I have to pack it, I begin to wonder if I really need it. Instead of waiting for a big move, though, I've started purging at various times whenever the opportunity arises.

My husband is wary of these purges. They usually mean I'm going to cause chaos that he has to assist in cleaning up. I try not to involve his possessions, and so far he hasn't given me a reason to. Usually when I start this process, he gets inspired as well.

The last time we moved, it was sudden and in difficult circumstances. Our apartment building had caught on fire and while our apartment didn't burn, it did get a ton of water. Renter's insurance paid for a packing crew, which was wonderful. And at that point I was grateful for whatever wasn't waterlogged. The unpacking process has been mostly an exploration of what survived. But even after losing so much, I still feel like we have too much stuff. Next year Dave and I might be moving, depending on where his residency is, and I'd like to start that next phase of our life without needing a huge moving truck, especially if it's all going to stay in boxes even after we get there.

Like anyone looking for tips in this area, I stumbled on Marie Kondo's book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. I devoured it in a couple of days. It might not work for everyone, and I don't agree with everything she suggests, but it has made a huge difference in how I approach my possessions. Instead of finding ways to organize everything, determine what brings you joy and discard the rest. It's pretty simple. It doesn't really apply to things you need, but you'd be surprised at how little you need.

The biggest hurdle I face is the sentimental factor. The best example I have for this is my box of photos. It wasn't a huge box, about the size of a shoe box. I kept pictures from childhood, middle school, high school, college, post-college, my wedding, everything. But most of them were terrible. Bleary, dark, nondescript. Or they were multiples, remains of the years when double prints were the norm no matter what. It felt a little ruthless, but I weeded out probably two thirds of my photos. Everything that remained was special to me. I got rid of pics from my years with old boyfriends, pics of those old boyfriends, everything. I'd held on to those pictures for all this time because I felt I had to, as though the memories would fade if I didn't keep every bad picture. But I don't need to remember everything. I won't be quizzed on any of it. And what memories I have of the events are better than the pictures, anyway.

I've been taking that same ruthlessness to other sentimental items. I kept a lot of my mom's things after she died, trying to cling to her memory, but her style and mine are not compatible. That collection has dwindled over the past few years, and I find that I'm slowly dropping baggage with her memory as I go.

My goal over the next 6 months is to cut our collection of stuff down to essentials. There's little that we've accumulated in our marriage so far that I absolutely cannot imagine having forever. Most of it is yard sale thrift store hand me downs. And it's just stuff we will have to pack and pay to move later. Might as well purge it all now to make room for life after school.

Journey

I am a spiritual mess. Throughout my life I've grappled with matters of faith, looking at any number of different perspectives because none of them made complete sense to me. Doctrine would clash with my experiences. Or people would turn me off. Despite the mantra to love the sinner and hate the sin, I sometimes can't separate the person from the behavior. I can only imagine what people can't separate from me.

Someone once told me that if I say I am a member of a particular denomination or faith, I have to believe everything it stands for. This person had a Master of Divinity degree, so I figured he knew what he was talking about, but I didn't agree with him. A lot of the things that separate denominations are details that really make no appreciable difference. Certainly not enough to make one church more "true" than another. But it got me thinking. I didn't agree with a lot that was taught at the church I attended at that time, and I was already questioning the fundamentals of Christianity in the first place. Instead of choking on these questions, I would follow them to their ends.

So for almost a decade, I've been on an internal journey, a solitary quest to determine what I personally believe separate from what religions tell me. I would question everything, explore other paths. And while it was liberating, I became very cynical. I hated going to church on the rare occasions I did attend. I mentally tore apart every message I heard, became angry every time I heard something I disagreed with, and felt like a blinking neon hypocrite for even being there in the first place. I developed a raging case of anxiety. During this time, I lost both of my grandmothers, my mother, and my mother-in-law. My much-beloved cat disappeared. I lived through any number of dark nights of the soul, staring into myself and despairing. This last year I wondered if I would fight if my life was threatened. I envied people in movies who died. Not that I haven't had spans of happiness, but they were tainted and difficult to maintain. My health problems seem to overpower me.

The reserves of hope have almost run dry.

An important part of me refuses to give up, though, because it feels like defeat. I want(ed) so badly to prove to myself and others that I don't need Christianity to define me or determine my beliefs. That I could make it on my own.

Except I've realized that I can't.

I thought, for this whole time, that if I returned, I would have to accept everything that infuriated me. The details. The purpose for suspending in the first place was to leave the details behind and discover what I really believed. That was the important part. So when I return, it's with considerably less baggage. After talking to people in various faiths and paths, I've realized that I can't accept everything. I can't even faithfully follow a recipe! I always change something. There are some things I learned in my journey that I plan to keep, lessons from Buddhism and Paganism that resonated so deeply that I can't discard them. Because that's where I am.

I still have a lot of issues. I can't hear worship music or anything that sounds like it without cynicism and pain because it feels so hollow to me after years of worship sessions wondering why I couldn't feel it like everyone else seemed to. I wish someone had told me in college that most of the people at those sessions were just as frustrated as I was, and just as afraid of what it meant. In the end, it meant only that that particular form of worship didn't close the circuit for you. Nothing more. Because I would often feel that sincere rush when I sang a song on my own, without all of the amps and guitars and drums and expectations.

A couple weeks ago, I was watching The Walking Dead. Michonne made a point, that the group had been "out there" for too long, trying to survive on their own. They needed a safe place and time to rest, to be human for a while before "out there" stripped them of what humanity they had left. That's what I'm feeling right now. I need somewhere to rest before I lose myself.

Bucket Lists

I read Leo Babauta's Zen Habits post about why to not have a bucket list (or, rather, what kind of bucket list is preferable), and I began thinking about the bucket list I've shuffled around in my head for years. I'm not a particularly motivated person when it comes to fulfilling this list, and most of the items seem so far-fetched that I wouldn't be surprised if I never did them, no matter how much fun I think they would be.

Some have been crossed off the list already. Saw a Broadway musical on Broadway in 12th grade. I've seen both The Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables on stage. I've been in a band singing lead. I won National Novel Writing Month in 2013. I've traveled long-distance on a train a few times and LOVED it. I taught in a college setting for a few months.

Some items are in the works. I got my masters degree and am just waiting to learn where Dave and I will be for residency to start my PhD and eventually teach university classes. I've also got a novel series in the works and am in the major overhaul phase of editing the first book.

Most of my list is dedicated to travel, and we're just too poor to do any of that at the moment. I've seen the Atlantic Ocean from New York City, but I've not been to Boston. I want to take a West Coast driving or train tour (which will be more fun now that we have friends in California and Oregon). I want to take Dave to Mackinac Island. Go hiking on the Appalachian Trail. See the northern lights. I want to go to England, Scotland, Ireland. France and Germany. Poland. India. Japan. Jamaica. I'd like to visit my cousins in Zambia.

I'd like to get the hell out of Texas for a while.

But what about the big ticket items like sky diving and bungee jumping? Why do those two wind up on so many lists for people who honestly are too scared to do them? They're on my list, but I am honestly more afraid of large parties than I am of jumping off a bridge if that makes any sense. More afraid of speaking in a foreign language to native speakers. So, does that rule out three quarters of my travel items? Maybe, but likely not.

I like making a bucket list because it helps me figure out my priorities. Yes, the idea of strapping a glorified rubber band to my feet and leaping over the side of a bridge makes me question my sanity. It's counter-instinctive. But my desire for flight is stronger than my fear, so I will likely do it. After a very thorough inspection of the harness and the line. I'm not stupid. And my desire to travel is stronger than my fear of fluxing up a conjugation. So making this list helps me find balances to my fears, reasons to act that are stronger than anxiety. Otherwise, I might become a slave to my fears and become a raging agoraphobic.

I know people who are determined to run a marathon (or three). I admire their tenacity and their athletic prowess. Marathons are out of my range. It's something that I just know. I hate running. Love hiking, hate running. There's no way "Run the Boston Marathon" is going to end up on my list. But those same marathon runners might feel the same about writing a novel (or three). What is NOT on the list tells as much about the person as what is.

So bucket lists can be an aid to mindfulness, a way to determine what is stronger than your fears. And a bucket list doesn't need to be filled with high adventure. It can include some of the more simple goals like watching more sunsets.

Personally, I have no crushing desire to scratch everything off my list. If I don't get to see the Taj Mahal in my lifetime, I might in the next. As long as I know I've faced down a few of my fears, I'll be satisfied.

Foster Kittens

Our neighborhood cat had her kittens earlier this week - three of them. Since she's not officially owned by anyone, a neighbor and I have taken over and we are working with the Humane Society to find a foster home for mama and kittens, though we don't know when a foster home will become available. So until then, I am the foster. Bella and her kittens arrived this afternoon, and they all have been safely housed in a towel-lined box in the living room. From what I can see, as they are only a couple of days old, two appear to be solid black and one is a tortie. Bella is grey.

My husband was a little wary of the whole plan at first, but once he saw them, his heart melted. Bella spent many days in our apartment while she was pregnant, so our cats know her. And I think my joy is so overpowering that Dave can't complain. And if this run goes well enough, I might sign up to be a foster with the Humane Society.

Right now, they are nearly silent except for the occasional plaintive squeak. When I hold them, they mew for a moment, then settle down and cuddle against my chest. I read that kittens should be handled often so they grow accustomed to human contact. I can't argue with that! Only, right now they are so difficult to tell apart that I sometimes pick up the same kitten twice. I'm resisting the urge to name them, since I know already I will have a hard time letting them go.

Passion

This is not a life. It's a form of survival. It's counterfeit, and it's killing me.

Sitting in this frigid little office at this desk, I realized that one major reason I'm so unhappy is that I'm trying to fit into a form of life that I don't understand. And, ultimately, I'm ignoring what makes me happy so I have enough energy to be someone I'm not so I can have a life that others tell me is fulfilling.

I don't belong in a business office behind a desk. I'd rather be in front of a classroom, but I don't have the health to do that anymore. There's only so much I can do, and if I'm going to spend hours a day sitting in front of a computer, I'd rather do so knowing that it's going to make my life better in a fundamental way, not because I might get paid for it. And when you work commission, there's a chance you won't get paid.

I've thought for years that my job defined me. And when I was a teacher, it did. I identified as a teacher, my whole being leaned in that direction. But since I've been out of the classroom, I've lost that identity. I'm not a teacher anymore. But I'm not a resume writer. I'm just...here. Filling a space until I figure out what I want to be when I grow up. And I spend a lot of energy doing that and trying to keep up with the housework. No wonder I can't write my stories. I've spent everything I had just getting to the point when I have the time to write.

But I should be writing. Not writing resumes, writing stories. I have novels in the works, stories I've started and abandoned because I'm afraid of that kind of life. Afraid of being the starving artist. But it's getting to the point that I'm more afraid of surviving another year.

Something very frightening happened to me a few months ago. I don't want to go into details, but I realized that I didn't have anything personal to look forward to. Things seemed meaningless. Life like that becomes a constant drudgery, but I couldn't see a way out of it. Going back to work didn't help matters - I was just reminded quite painfully of my limitations.

So today I thought about that situation months ago - and found a possible solution. Stop surviving. If this is surviving, what is living? If I could be doing whatever I wanted to find fulfillment, what would that life be like? Traveling and writing. I can't do much traveling at the moment, but I can write. I can stop allocating the dredges of my time to my writing and make writing my priority.

Not an simple task, though. People tend to look at writing like a pleasant little hobby that one can pick up or set aside at a moment's notice. And all that time spent at home could (should?) be better spent on housework. Except writing is a talent like any other that requires practice and dedication and discipline to make it good. A schedule, a deadline, and a fear of missing that deadline worse than the fear of failure. A driving need to get this story out of your head before it consumes you.

This is what I need to live. A passion.

Sunshine and Kittens

Thank goodness for the end of the SAD season! Like a hood pulled from my head or a mountain shrugged from my shoulders, I feel human again, alive.

My neighbor's cat is pregnant, and she's been hanging out in our apartment quite a bit. I'm hoping she decides to have the kittens here. Finding homes for them will be difficult, as I won't want to let them go, But for a few weeks I will have little jellybeans. Heaven!

Sounds Like Sleep; or, How to Soothe the Savage Insomniac

Insomnia is my nemesis. We wage war every night for possession of the nighttime hours. So far, it usually retreats sometime around 3 or 4 in the morning.

I've tried nearly all the advice I've found for cracking through insomnia, and none of them have worked. And at 3am, when I've spent the past couple of hours counting seconds and trying to predict the moment the number on the clock will change, even the weird stuff starts to look promising. Because the Tylenol PM I took at 9pm certainly didn't work for long.

So here are a few things I've found that help me sleep. I live in Texas, so you won't find bud in this list. Check with your doctor before taking any of the substances below. Especially #4.

1. Valerian - This herbal doesn't knock me out, but it helps to slow my spinning mind a bit, enough for the Tylenol PM or Z-Quil to take a better hold. It's also in Celestial Seasons Sleepytime Extra tea.
   
2. ASMR videos - ASMR stands for Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response, and it's a sensation of tingles that some people get from certain sounds or stimuli. There is a whole "whispering community" of artists on YouTube that make videos containing trigger sounds like whispering and tapping to give viewers tingles. The videos are also very soothing, so many people like to listen to them even if they don't receive ASMR sensations (like me). My favorite ASMRtist is Gentlewhispering. She has a lovely voice and warm persona.
   
3. White noise and sleep sound generator apps - Some are definitely better than others. I found Relax Melodies in the app store, and while there aren't as many sounds as White Noise Pro (what I have on the iPad), the sounds on Relax Melodies are more suited to mixing. The pro version lets you make your own mixes and you can play your iTunes through the app as well (if you have a sleep track you like). And it has binaural beats for various effects (concentration, sleep, etc.) You can set an alarm as well, with different sounds, including Zombies. (Yup, that would wake me up quick...)
   
4. Melatonin - I can't take Melatonin because of medication interactions, but my husband swears by it. CHECK FOR INTERACTIONS WITH ANY MEDICATIONS YOU TAKE BEFORE USING MELATONIN! I take Cymbalta and didn't check interactions before taking Melatonin for a few nights. It induced some of the worst depression I've ever experienced.
   
   The drink Neuro Sleep has Melatonin as an ingredient. I found that out the hard way...
   
   But, if you aren't on any medications (antidepressants in particular), Melatonin might be worth checking out.

I'd like to check out Sleep Phones as well. They are flat headphone pads in a soft headband to make side sleeping while listening to sleep sounds less painful than with ear buds.Otherwise, ow.

On that note, it's time to get ready for another night. Sleep sweet!