Paying Attention

Charleston, SC

I ran into an old friend today. We have known each other for over 30 years – we met when I worked at a local business here in Plant City. She needed help correcting water issues in her home, and she needed help with her pool water. Once upon a time I was very knowledgeable about both things. We fixed both issues for her, and every time she came in to the shop after that, we chatted about everything under the sun. I was either in the early stages of my life with Steve or we were newly married; I cannot remember which. I just know when I met her; it was a long time ago. She had been married for a while and she had several children; they had to have been pre-teen or younger then, since she will soon be 65. Through the years, we have run into each other at such random, odd moments. She worked for years at USF, and then she went back to school herself for teaching. USF is actually one of the places we ran into each other; it’s a big place, so that was a very random meeting. She’s retired now, but ended up subbing for a short time – she was so glad, she said, that she never expanded the teaching career she went to college for, and she’s enjoying life and her grandchildren now. She and her husband divorced after one of her birthday parties; she went on a trip with friends, came home and knew it was the right thing to do. She is bubbly and exuberant; a wonderful breath of fresh air, and running into her never fails to boost my spirits. Each time we meet, we promise we will be in touch, and then time passes and we just get busy with living our lives. This time I believe she is a person I can use in my life, so I will try harder to keep the friendship active.

I have another friend with whom the same thing happens. I met her when she was new to Plant City from Michigan. She was a new mom, and she wanted friends; wanted to start a coffee club, but I worked full time and could never make it. And truthfully, back then, Steve was my entire life. Friendships were not easy to nurture; I’d had a bad experience and was a bit friend-gun-shy. Again, time passed. Every few years we run into each other; book store, grocery store, places like that. She does not live close by anymore. She ended up divorcing her husband, and then, before the divorce was finalized; or maybe just after, he died. It left her in a terrible place, I think; loss, children to raise, a new life to live. She went back to school and she worked in the medical field somehow. She remarried some years ago, and I see her at a church in Tampa when we go there for their annual festival.

Old gas station in the hills near
Layser Caves, Randle, WA

Life has such a funny way of prodding us, doesn’t it? It sends people or things in our direction; moments that we did not know we needed. Like finding a gas station out in the middle of nowhere - or when mankind first discovered fire; who knew we needed those things until we saw them first?

Manitou Springs, CO.

Sometimes we need that thing people bring us for just a moment; maybe we are down in the dumps or sad, and little random moments can bring us to a different point. I try to pay attention to those little moments now, but that has not always been the case. I think of the moments in my life that I have just let slip by. It is not with regret I remember some of them, but with the intention of not letting life slide by me continually anymore.

 In her book Big Magic Liz Gilbert speaks of creativity and how the muse inside of all of us does come nudging and knocking; it is asking us to pay attention, to give it lip service; to write, to paint, to call someone who comes to mind out-of-the-blue; regardless of what that urge might be. Sometimes thoughts or ideas are fleeting and they float on past us to grab onto someone who is paying attention. Sometimes those thoughts or ideas come around again, elbowing and bumping their way back into our consciousness, giving us another chance. I believe my writing muse has done that to me. Writing been part of my life for so long, and yet I let it lay dormant for many years; the married years, mostly, and I was married just short of 19 years. I dabbled here and there; poetry (hundreds of poems, honestly), story ideas started and abandoned; a journal begun, then set aside. Thoughts that pop into my head as I drive to or from work. Sometimes I  come home and jot them down and save them, but I can only imagine that I have lost more ideas than have actually stuck with me. More is the pity, right? When my muse came poking at me earlier this year I took it seriously. I started writing regularly and with commitment, not really know what it was I was going to do with it. But I have continued it, and today is my 141st day of writing at least 750 words a day.

Julia Cameron suggests, in her book The Artist’s Way, that writing 750 words a day is the key to releasing our creative spirits. Her idea is to write first thing in the morning, when the mind is fresh; before any chores, before any activity. She says it is not the same sort of release at night; night writing tends to be more about rehashing your day, rather than starting with the same vigor and newness we hold in our minds each morning. I tried getting up early each day, writing by hand in a composition book, and I was successful for a few months, but it was hard for me. I wake up very early as it is, and rising even earlier to write just was not a feasible addition to my day. If my lifestyle were different, it might have been a longer, more successful release of my creativity. It was not meant to be for me at that time, but my current method seems to be helping. I feel more released, more vibrant, more aware of myself, and I know I have been writing more; that was my goal. Writing makes me happy, and it makes me sane. I have accomplished a goal I set for myself, and that is something I am proud of. Now to decide which direction I want to go with it; how to market myself and maybe begin to add it to career possibilities, which has been my goal since I learned how to read and write. One step at a time, one day at a time; one word at a time.

Seven Falls, Colorado Springs, CO.