Category: Creativity

What if You Don’t?

What if You Don’t?

reroutinglife

The universe is sending me messages again.

I recently published a blog post three months after I finished it and I’m still stumped on why. Actually that’s a complete lie…I know exactly why! Because finishing things is hard for me. My self-discipline hasn’t always been top-notch (I actually told a friend at lunch today to please write anonymous threats to get me to workout). I am frequently inspired, but rarely do I see my ideas to fruition.

Anyway, back to the messages. While listening to yet another podcast (I promise, I do other things, I swear!), the girl (can’t remember who, but obviously a successful, well-enlightened person) was talking about all the time she had lost being creative due to escaping into things like social media, Netflix, etc. She even described the feeling you get (yes, you know it) when you’ve been on your phone too long and you get that icky sensation that you have completely ignored everything else for a bit longer than you should have. It’s a fun escape at first, until you look up two hours later and wonder where in the world the time has gone, or where your children are, or is that the smell of food burning?!

We are all guilty. Smartphones are amazing tools, but also amazing at being addictive. I won’t lie, I’m writing on one right now. Lately, I’ve been thinking of how I long to use my creativity more, always wonder why and how to do better at it, when I know exactly why…this shiny little screen right here in front of me. It’s just too easy of an escape.

My husband and I love to watch The Crown on Netflix (I know, I know, more screens). One of the most fascinating things I started to notice was how they spent their down time. Reading a book. Drinking tea (of course). Playing cards. Not a screen in sight. Well, part of the series is in a time period when tv’s weren’t in homes yet, but still. You can actually hear clocks ticking in the background. Funny that in a time when we use our phones to escape, I watch actors just sitting around in a quiet room and that seems like the real escape.

I had a rug delivery today (always exciting, I know!) and the delivery guy saw that I had a giant wall version of Connect Four in my embarrassingly large Amazon box pile by my front door. I love that game! he says as he rearranges my furniture. I tell him I hope my kids will actually play it, all they want to play is their phones, yada yada.

“I have a friend, soon as you turn into her driveway…no internet!” he says. “They always playing board games, the kids will communicate with you, it’s amazing!”

I look at him with wonder. Who is this magnificent woman and why is she not the President? Sadly, I too have the power to turn off my internet. I can take back control! But wait- I have to fill out this form online, the kids have to use the computer for school, my husband has work…not gonna happen.

So I guess it’s up to me, my own self-discipline and knowing how to set rules and boundaries for my kids. Adulting…ughhhhh.

Think of all the artists, the musicians, the authors that will never share their gifts because of screen time? The ones who, if exposed to sheer boredom, might teach themselves to play the piano or paint with watercolors or make up recipes? Or will they be sucked into the vortex of the screen when free time allows? I know I am guilty. How much time would I have spent being creative if it weren’t for unlimited episodes of Below Deck or posting vacation pictures on social media or falling into the abyss of an endless news cycle all at my fingertips? Sigh.

And yet, I do this every single day. And I bet most of you do, too. Not meaning to put the guilt trip on, just make you think.

In Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Big Magic, she explores the idea that creativity is almost it’s own dimension. That creative ideas flow freely and it just takes one person with enough grit to catch one and do something tangible with it. She mentions how she had thought up a complete storyline for a novel that she kept to herself, always struggling to actually write it down. Eventually, enough time passed not following through with her book writing that one day, she picked up a novel by one of her favorite authors and was stunned to discover that it was the exact same story she had thought of. Ok, so maybe not word for word, but the plot, setting, characters…it was basically the same idea.

This has always fascinated me, this idea of creative thoughts just waiting to be used by the right, willing person. Have you ever read a book, or seen a business idea or invention that you have already thought of? It’s a crazy feeling. My husband actually did a project in college about the idea of satellite radio, in 1998. You learn about people’s innovations in the world and think…wait! That was my idea!!! Until we limit the distractions, muster up some courage and some Olympic levels of self-discipline, sadly that’s all they will remain…ideas in our heads, never to be shared with the world.

What are we waiting for? What ideas and creative gifts do you have that you are holding back from the world? I know I have many. I have notebooks of songs and poems that I’ve started as far back as first grade. I have books and stories half-written. Art half-drawn. Choruses and verses and bridges in my head. I used to dream of breakfast delivery service when I was in my 20’s…and now voila! We have Uber eats. I know I wasn’t the only one with that idea way back when.

But what will they think? What if I fail? What if they all laugh at me?!!

You could spend as much time worrying the opposite…what if I don’t? Chances are, if you don’t run with a creative idea, somebody else will.

I need to hear this message constantly, need the fire stoked so that maybe eventually, I’ll finish something I’ve created. I know, we are all busy raising babies or paying bills or studying or just surviving. But we all have creative gifts inside us. Ideas are everywhere. They just need a little care and cultivating before they can be released out into the world.

Can you see them? Can you catch one? I can’t wait to see what you will do with it, beautiful friend.

Turn off that screen…and make some magic.

What if You Fly?

What if You Fly?

reroutinglife

The last time I flew in an airplane, I wrote my heart out for two hours straight. But when I failed to realize that my phone coverage didn’t extend beyond my home country, consequently, all was lost.  

What I did realize, however, is that despite my loss, the benefit from the process still remained. The process, markedly, was the expoltion of my emotions in the way that best serves me; by writing them out. 

When you are a writer, or any kind of creator, really, it’s like having an imaginary portal that bypasses the normal means of communication. Where as one may cry when upset or scream out when scared or verbally speak what’s on their mind, some of us need the portal of words to get our feelings out. Others may feel compelled to paint or draw or feverishly bang away on a piano. The pathway to emotional freedom is like that for me. The emotions stir within, churning and expanding, trapped without an escape route, until…the words come.  But seemingly for me, the words must be written or typed to be best understood. Verbalization of words becomes an extra hurdle of which I always stumble over.  Writing is the medium that makes the most sense to me; it has repeatedly proven to be the most authentic expression of myself. 

So, seeing that I must rely on the writing process to efficiently shed my overflowing emotions, here I sit on the airport runway, heart pounding and breath seizing, fingers typing feverishly, my two precious babies beside me, preparing for take off. My nerves are raw and my mind grasps to steady itself. 

Jack, being an overthinker much like myself, has been barraging us with questions for the past month. 

Are the engines loud? How loud are they? How does the plane lift off? How high will we go? 

He has flown before, but he was only 3 at the time. At 7, his ideas are big and the questions are bigger. He wants to know everything that’s going to happen before it happens. He yearns for control. He wants nothing to do with unpredictability. He is my child, no doubt. 

Then there is my little Allie. This is her first flight. At age 4, and being the second, more fearless child, she is gung-ho and ready. She woke up exclaiming, I’m so excited! Ahhh…the adventurous spirit of a young, uninhibited mind. 

Ready for takeoff!
 

We start down the runway, and Allie squeals with delight. I can sense Jack’s nervousness; he is watching the plane’s every move, internally analyzing. As for myself, I know too much. I am a mess of worry and fear and catastrophic thinking. I close my eyes and squeeze their soft little hands and say my most earnest prayer. 

The wheels lift and we are propelled upwards with a rush of air. I am forced to raise the white flag of surrender as I begin to accept my current situation. Soon enough, fear and anticipation quickly turn into wonder and amazement as the world below us shrinks. 

Look at the tiny trees! The tiny cars! Everything’s so tiny! 

I love how children are little sponges for joy. How they focus in on the positive in an instant, like a dog that has suddenly picked up a scent, is brilliant.  They hone in and live in the moment. It is an admirable trait. 

I had been anxiously anticipating this day of travel for months. I do not like to fly (despite a love affair with flying in my pre-panic disorder life), and doing so with my two smallish children in tow had not been high on my list of upcoming fun activities. Talk about a recipe for a panic attack. But there I sat, in the moment, the normal fears tangled up and swollen with the mom fears, but through it I must go. Exposure therapy, here I come! 

Okay. So it wasn’t as bad as I had imagined it. My kids actually had a blast. They got to color, play their iPads, gaze out the window at the tiny houses and puffy white clouds, and they were so excited that they got mini cups of Sprite. Oh, AND they each got 3 bags of peanuts. I mean, how could one not be having fun?

We did get the dreaded buckle up for turbulance announcement. As soon as that seatbelt sign lights up and the ding!!! goes off, I prepare for the worst. My stomach sinks and my body goes numb in preparation for this event to occur. What is it about the turbulance??? Me no likey. 

Allie, however, sees this moment as a huge adventure. As we are tossed about on invisible waves of air, she is flat-out laughing. 

Wheeee!!!! This is like a roller coaster!

Oh, sweet Allie. To have your zest for life, your fearless zeal. I long for even a tiny taste. 

Taking this flight was a huge hurdle for me. The first flight, EVER, with both of my children. Not only did I have my usual flying anxieties to deal with, but I would also have to manage the unpredictable nature of little ones. I also felt the crushing pressure to be strong for them, to keep it together. I was the adult here. 

As I’ve mentioned before (especially in my previous post, Mama Bears (and Papa Issues)), as a mother, your deepest, purest desire is to keep your children safe.  On the contrary, in the midst of a panic attack, you feel total endangerment and loss of control. Nothing could seem farther from feeling safe and secure. This is why the fear of fear is that much heavier; I feel like I cannot keep my children safe while I, myself, am a panicky mess. It is a helpless,  depressing and extremely maddening feeling. 

Of course, this is a distorted thought, causing unnecessary worry and doubt. I am able to recognize these fraudulent thoughts now. Still, their roots run deep; it will take time to dig them up and uncover their many crooked pathways. It is a slow process. 

Thankfulky, we had an amazing Thanksgiving trip. Lots of quality time with family, beautiful scenery, and so many memories made. What a shame it would’ve been to miss it all because of fear. To think back on all the things I have already missed out on over the years is heartbreaking. 

Our view from our lodge in Cambridge, MD.
Jack is seriously a bass master.
The amazing Thanksgiving feast.

I’m declaring this trip a huge victory. The confidence gained just by checking off this box has been profound.  Not to say there won’t be nerves and doubts the next time we have to fly the “friendly” skies, but the first time is always the hardest. It’s even opened up a whole new pathway of thinking. One that asks, Where shall we fly to next? What family adventures await? 

It’s remarkably refreshing. 

I can’t explain how good it feels to be able to even think simple thoughts like this, thoughts that didn’t exist a few weeks ago. Thankfully, the framework of the mind is not made of cement. It is flexible, malleable; like the birch tree that bends without breaking, the mind can always be persuaded to lean just a little bit more each time. We can stretch ourselves in ways we never thought possible. We can claim even the smallest victories when it comes to fear. 

What will your little victory be today? Or perhaps you will decide to conquer one of your bigger fears? How can you bend your mind just a little bit more? What box do you need to check in your life? 

Just do it. 

You are stronger than you think. 

We are the champions, my friend.

Whatever cliche sports metaphor you want to insert here, it’s better than telling yourself you are a failure. It’s better than not even trying. Even if you have to motivate yourself just to think about trying, it’s better than succumbing to the debilitating chains of fear. 

Don’t listen to the naysayers in your head. Words can be beautiful and words can be downright destructive. You can choose which words will be heard the loudest; you can choose the conversation you want to have with yourself. When you hear words that praise you, that build you up and cheer you on, grab hold of them tight. Hold them steadfast to your heart and tattoo them on with the darkest of ink. Or maybe use a gold glitter sharpie. Whatever. But don’t let them go, those beautiful, life-saving words. 

I can think of so many words, whether it be a single word, a phrase or a quote, that have carried me to where I am today. These words sing to me when my heart is lonely and afraid. Sometimes they are my own words and often they are the words of others, but the source doesn’t matter as much as the substance. 

Wherever they come from, cherish them. Speak them to yourself with care and kindness. Words of praise will pull you forward and propel you upwards. They can carry you high above the dark depths of fear. 

The next thing you know, you’ll look around and see the clouds below you. 

And all at once, there you are. 

You’re flying. 

A Loss of Words

A Loss of Words

reroutinglife

I did it. 

I wrote the most soulful, harrowing, genuine, clarity-filled post I had ever written. 

And then I lost it. 

As we prepared for our upcoming anniversary trip down here to Tulum, Mexico (where I sit at this very moment, absorbed in a tropical beach-dream come true), I had been planning to write this particular post. I meant to put aside time writing it way before we boarded the plane, as my anticipatory fear of flying often starts months in advance. Yet the busyness of life intercepted, and it wasn’t until we were strapped into our seats on the plane that the words began to breach the dam. 

I took my raw fear, that had moved suddenly from anticipation to staring me straight in the eye, and I began. With my phone and my two small but mighty thumbs, the words billowed out, filling the tiny screen.

From the startling moment of the jet-engine’s deafening start, to the pure surrender of the moment of lift-off. From when I closed my eyes and said my most earnest prayer for safety and the ability to be able to hug my children again. From the moment when peace triumphantly emerged as I was taken back by the beauty that was displayed out my window at 30,000 feet…I captured it all in my complete narrative. For the entire two hours of the flight, I wrote. 

I described in gritty detail, the effects of panic that my body feels when I am traveling in an airplane. The moment when the doors close and the white flag is waved. When the pilot announces that there will be turbulance and my breathing seizes up. When I am in the midst of turbulance and my nerves catch fire and my body is frozen with fear and lack of control, and the epiphany and relief that I have when I surrender to that control. When I let my role be one of traveler and leave the flying and controlling up to the pilot. When I realize that maybe the fact that I have gotten to have a tiny snack and a ginger ale while writing and listening to Band of Horses all while simultaneously not having to move a damn muscle can actually be seen as relaxing instead of terrifying. When I realize that my husband, who is snoring hard next to me after two margaritas and a couple episodes of Portlandia, handles this flying business way better than me, so why aren’t I doing that??

Whatever I said, it was good. I felt it. It was raw and in the moment; a front row-seat inside the inner workings of my brain when faced with one of my biggest fears. I felt the landing-gear machinery opening, and I quickly gave the writing a once-over. It didn’t even need more than a word or two of editing. It was good. 

I had known the title for months. Learning to Fly. Flying has played such a big part in the story of my anxiety. It was time to give it the spotlight. 

Done. Title ready, photo of a plane, easy. Effortless and satisfying. Like a good meal at a restaurant. Only thing left to do is pay the bill. 

When you spend time searching for moments of creative inspiration and then suddenly it happens, where everything falls in to place, when an idea lands in your hand with ease and grace, waiting for you to make it your own, you treasure it. It is a special thing. Like a creative birth of sorts. A thing of beauty. If you fail to grab onto the idea, however, it is gone; it will flutter on until it lands on another willing soul, ready to give it a life of its own. It’s a delicate, fleeting process. 

We will be deboarding soon. I have to hurry to tidy up and make sure I haven’t left anything on the plane. So, I hit publish. 

An important thing to remember when you are traveling to a foreign country, is that the internet is not a given. And when you choose to do your writing exclusively on an internet-based blogging site, you most certainly need an internet connection, of which I did not have. But in a hasty, hurried moment, I hit publish. And although I missed the entire message that was given next, I know that it most definitely contained the word error. 

And then all was lost. 

When you create something, anything of originality, you realize the inability to duplicate it, at least without its original copy, that is. There will always be a first creation of something, and you need that evidence as a blueprint before it can be copied. A re-creation can be attempted, of course, but it will never be the same as the original. 

As I walked through the Cancun airport, excited about vacation and yet sick to my stomach with the loss of my words, I thought about trying to re-write it from memory. We did have a 90 minute shuttle ride, plenty of time to start over, right?  But the moment was clearly lost. The ideas, the words, the emotions, had clearly passed. I had to move on, let it go. 

It was hard. It sounds so silly, to be  so upset about the loss of something so seemingly trivial. But to me, it was important. When you feel that you can better explain your life in words, when you can shine a bit of your soul this way, it is a piece of you. You cherish it. For some, it is how you best show your true self to others. It is a genuine piece of your heart. 

A piece of my heart that will never be recovered. 

But then I started to think (as I often try to spin things into the positive), maybe those words weren’t meant to be read. Maybe those words were just for me. I had documented every moment of my journey through my fear of flying, and had come through with flying colors (hehe). The words had served as a catalyst, as a trusted guide, holding my hand, leading me through the thick cloud of fear. My words gave meaning to my emotions, laid them out, exposed them to the light. And we all know that fear cannot survive beyond the shadows. 

My words carried me through one of my most feared moments. Although I had wanted to share them with others, to bridge a connection for others who share a fear of flying, it was apparently just not the right time. There will be other times, though. 

At least I can rest in the fact that my words were there for me when I needed them. They guided me through a difficult time and remain forever in that moment. A moment no longer captured in words, but in memory. A moment where fear came and went like a passing cloud outside the jet window. A moment not meant for anyone but me, as I triumphed over my fear in quiet victory. 

The words are gone, never to be captured again, but the experience, the progress, it remains. Every single step taken towards freedom from fear leaves a lasting impression in my mind, a footprint in concrete. 

For this reason, I know that I have lost nothing, but gained everything. 

Okay. I think I’ve made my peace. Time to get back to some vacation time. And cross your fingers that I don’t lose this post too; I don’t think I could take it. At least I still have Mexico. It’s not such a bad consolation prize.

Adios!