Author: nicole

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To an epic March. #NaBloPoMo.

I am risk-averse.

I generally play it safe. But I woke up this morning, overjoyed, excited, and inspired to tweet this:

It’s because I’m on planes every week, logging hundreds of miles in rental cars, memorizing favorite dishes in restaurants, and yet rather than wait for all of that to slow down, I’m writing anyway.

It’s because somewhere amidst my hectic lifestyle, I have to pack up my apartment in paradise, and return to my roots. Something I hadn’t planned to do… possibly ever.

It’s because the last day of March marks the first day of a new life. And I can’t wait!

I’m not sure who this risk-taker is or where she’s been hiding all this time, but she seems to have relegated safe to the margins, allowing LIFE to take center stage.

#30in30. Part Deux.
On a whim, I wrote 30 posts in 30 days last August. My stomach churned a bit as I mulled Aliya’s tweets, asking fellow writers to join her on the quest. It seemed reckless. I had planned to write more in August, but not for all the world to see. Publish every single day? For a month? I’d never done it, despite my claims of being a writer. But because I’d been pushing myself beyond my comfort zone, the discomfort assured me this was likely to be a good decision.

And it was.

It was also very difficult. Like, very.

But I grew as a writer and as a person. And when the 30 days were over, I found I missed the discipline. I gave myself permission to vacation from blogging, and slack off a bit, but eventually the bit became a bite, became a double portion. I wanted to try “something like that” again. I thought I would start in April, when I was logging fewer miles and fewer calories. But two days after my birthday, I found I could wait no longer. March feels like the right time to write.

So here I am.

I have no clue what I’ll be sharing with you here. But I’ll be here every day. I hope you will, too.

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Saying Hello

I’ve been writing here and there, on sticky notes, mobile devices, and the like. I have many posts in draft form, and lots of prompts for others, but I’m finding it difficult to polish a piece (or a thought) for public consumption.

I know why this is.

My professional life currently takes up a lot of resources. For better or for worse, this will decrease in the coming weeks, and I hope plan to be more visible here.

Despite my lowered profile around these parts, I’ve committed myself to begin working on my book/workshop project in earnest this month. It’s a birthday gift to myself, inspired by Joshunda’s act of self-publishing her book for her birthday this year. I hope my work helps women and girls find, claim and refine their voices in powerful ways. At minimum, I hope it will help at least one.

With that wish in mind, I want to share something with you. It was an activity for the Red Clay 2011 Summer Institute (SI) – UGA’s affiliate of the National Writing Project. Early on, I blogged about it, and at the end of the SI, I created a digital version of “What I Want My Words To Do To You.” It’s low resolution, so bear that in mind. I think it encapsulates who I am, and what I hope to accomplish:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jU2H5KgccoU&w=480&h=360]

Author’s note: Apparently this video has disappeared! I hope to find it on an old computer and repost it. 

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Abiding Love

Some years are made for themes. They begin with declarations, resolutions, bucket lists, big bangs, and the like. Two years ago I opened 2011 fierce, bold, courageous.

As if 3.5 years of grad school weren’t enough, in 2011 I found myself desirous of more profound and personal challenges. I wanted to face things that scared me. Push myself beyond self-imposed limitations.

Despite the steps I took to face seeming fears out there, I soon discovered the real fears were within. Towering at times. Moments of clarity and honesty produced tools for dismantling and dissolving. I chiseled and chipped and melted fears after hours of prayers, reflection, and tearful storytelling. Truth-telling to the one I lied most often: me.

2012 did not open with a declaration. And throughout the year I sought the theme retroactively. Eventually I figured out that I never really concluded the learning, pushing and fear facing of 2011. And so not one, but two years were about fear and overcoming it.

Now a new year has dawned, and to fear and fearlessness I say, “thank you.” Fear and the efforts to win over it, are great teachers. The most important lesson, the most beautiful gift, was love.

I am no longer interested in the framing, facing or challenging of fear. Instead I seek, welcome, embrace and share love.

2013 is the Year of Abiding Love. 

And so it is.

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In case you missed it…

2010 marked the end of graduate school, and the end of writing by committee for a while. In 2011, I planned to write for self. And I did. Sort of. But not as much as I envisioned.

In 2012, I wrote more often than years past. And I wrote about things that were intellectually and/or emotionally fulfilling. This was especially true in August, when I participated in Tayari’s WriteLikeCrazy and Aliya’s 30 in 30 (30 blogs in 30 days) challenge. As a category, my 30-in-30 posts were the most rewarding to write and many of them ranked among the highest views for the year.

Creating time to write, and mustering courage to share my writing were two challenges I battled for nearly every post this year. But I did create the time. And I did share. And so did you…

Thanks so much for reading and sharing my rants, confessions, mini essays, declarations and lessons this year.  Here are the ones that seemed to resonate most:

2012 was a great journey, with milestones on many fronts. I hope to write my way through more of them in 2013, and share them with all of you.

In love,

Nicole, the LadyBuddha

SunsetWithLove

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The Joy Jar

In 2013, I shall fill my joy jar to overflowing.
What, you may be wondering, is a joy jar? It is a piggy bank of sorts. Instead of money, in go notes, mementos, and expressions of joy about the wonderful things that have happened throughout the year. Melanie Duncan explains it this way:
Image
A beautiful idea, and a creative twist on the gratitude journal. I am currently in search of an appropriate vessel, and I’m excited in advance, about all the things it will contain. A few reminders are in order:
  • No victory is too small, and every joy is worth documenting.
  • Attention brings awareness to the joy already present in daily life. Look around in wonder and with a grateful heart.
  • It’s not a race to fill up the bowl. Quantity and quality are not mutually exclusive.

Melanie’s idea is that this is an end-of-year ritual, but one needn’t wait 52 weeks before reaping. Perhaps I will review the contents of my joy jar on special occasions like: my birthday, my anniversary, the last day of the month, a rainy day, a random Monday in July…

I shall celebrate every milestone. Every victory. Every inspired moment. Every single one. I shall count joys early and often, and in so doing, accumulate all the more.

Wishing you peace, love and joy in 2013.

xoxo

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A thank you note.

I promised myself I would write. I owe it to myself to keep my promise.

Joshunda’s sentiment to write as exploration and truth-telling, and ultimately as an expression of self-love, resonated with me months ago.  That afternoon we talked love, pets, career, life, all in no particular order. Mostly we talked writing.

We talked writing as inquiry. As work. As joy. As required. As radical.  

I hear her voice whenever I talk myself out of writing.

When I procrastinate until “later today.”  Or when I say “tomorrow.”  I hear her voice when brilliance flashes at inconvenient moments, and I neglect to take note.  When I resist.  When I do anything other than sit and listen to the ideas clamoring to be revealed, or prodded, refuted, developed, acknowledged…I hear her voice.

Today, I am listening. And writing.

Thank you.
xoxo

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Home, revisited. A meditation.

I pressed the lap button at 2.5 miles, only to find out I was never keeping time. I did what I sometimes do in circumstances like this…I stopped running. I had gotten off to a much later start than usual, so the sun was bright overhead, and walking a few paces in the cheerful warmth was a welcome commune with nature. I spotted fish, not merely jumping, but seriously engaged in sport and one-upmanship. I spoke to a couple of ducks on the trail. The easy pace and beautiful scenery got me in a meditative mood. I mused about home.

What is home, exactly? A place or a moment that resonates. It’s gathering of old friends around a good game of Taboo. A visit to the tried and true corner barbershop one Saturday morning.  Sometimes home is less fleeting. It’s a city where sunshine runs rampant. A house you’ve built with your partner. Whenever, wherever your heart feels welcomed and your spirit feels at ease, is home.

Home has been on my mind as of late. I’m unsettled. That’s a bit of a revelation, because I was drawn to my current city. I quite literally ached to be here. And when I moved here (for the second time) it resonated so strongly with me, I was loath to be away for any period of time. I was home.

But life is for the living and circumstances have changed. As beautiful as my surroundings are, they no longer seem to fit where I am internally. How it can be – a place I still love no longer resonates? I think it’s because this home was for healing. I needed to be here, in the sunshine, near the salty water. I had old wounds to tend. Wholeness to restore.

And then I learned to love again.

This space, my healing place, no longer carries the same resonance. My heart feels more welcomed and my spirit feels more at ease in other spaces. This home no longer feels like my home.

Yet, I am happy about that.

Despite being unsettled, I do know where my heart is, and there’s no place like home.