On the Culture of Positivity and Realism

Perhaps it goes against realism to only write through a positive lens.  Maybe it's unlikely that anyone would take me seriously as a writer if I never struggled with anything.

I do have challenges.  And weakness.  And frustrating situations that when unexpressed, cloud my vision as if I were walking through a smoky forest fire. Yesterday I wrote a very negative post about an encounter I had with someone who frustrates me.  And each hour the post stayed up, I felt increasingly unwell.

Even though I didn't name names, it felt like a low down thing to share.  But I learned from it.  I was aware of how sending out negativity did not solve my difficulty, but kept me focused on the bad feelings.  And nothing I will ever write will change the person who sends me to the roof and whom I occasionally have to encounter.

So focusing on the person outside of me didn't help.  It was real, and it was raw, but it wasn't good for me.

Healing and joy started to return the very moment I took the post down.

And then later in the evening, I watched a superb talk by Brandon Stanton of Humans of New York.  Brandon was candid and sparkling on the topic of his surprisingly short trajectory of success.  He's been photographing strangers for four years.  His photography skills are average.  But Brandon does something no one else thought to do:  he interviews his subjects about intimate details of their lives.  If you have yet to encounter his work, I know you will be delighted by the discovery of HONY.

 I connected with several of Brandon's thoughts.  I felt less self conscious about my blog header when hearing "it's more important to be different than to be good," (when you need to stand out).  Eventually I hope to write under my name, but I still have yet to make the leap.

I also was captivated by his values.  It's important for his work to maintain a "culture of positivity".  This doesn't mean that tough issues and social problems are avoided, as he often asks his subjects to tell about their current struggle.  What he hopes to see in the commentary is positivity, where people are inspired to offer encouragement despite the problem.  The result is a perfect balance of realism mixed with positivity.  Not the realism of broadcast news mixed with the negative commentary that fuels the fear mongering machine.

What does this mean for me as a writer?  It's so confusing to have negative emotions take over my head, then feel limited because I hold those back.  Brenda Ueland advises, "write like a pirate, like a lion!"  The goal being truth!

Why should I be so afraid of the truth?

I am discovering that what has become a priority for me is not more expression of the low feelings.  My well being depends on refocusing my efforts towards creating for the expression of gratitude, of love, of the simple awareness of beauty, of color, of texture, of the journey through different experiences that add light.

Every day comes with at least one problem. People around me are going to behave the way they behave, and that's okay if I don't like it, or if it is offensive.    I can look in another direction.  Dig a new fountain pond with Elliot. Plant the garden.  Ride my bike like a beast up a super long, steep hill.  I can sit in my meditation room and listen to the soothing voice of Deepak while the cat comes in to purr on my lap.  I can hand paint a greeting card, or return to working on my writing project.  I can open my dusty horn case and practice the new (old favorite) music I found at a second hand store.  I can cook something delicous and have a little feast.  All of what I need comes from within.  I've been practicing at the skills that bring me closer to myself.

The point for me here is not to dwell long in the problem.  It solves nothing for me to stay focused in those socially difficult areas.  My happiness comes from the process of creating.  It comes from within my own being as an expression of spirit.

Why can't realism be happy and beautiful too?

Elliot's Photography

I have just been scanning through the recent photographs of our trip to the Asheboro Zoo.  Several of Elliot's photos captured a feeling that I often miss.

Like what it feels like to be in captivity.

Photo credit Elliot Hoppins

Photo Credit Elliot Hoppins

Photo Credit Elliot Hoppins

While I was snapping away, looking for color and composition, he was looking for feeling.  The camera shows an extension of his heart.  A heart that was troubled often during our visit.  Elliot's consciousness is awakening to some hard truths about our environment.  He also recognizes that many people visiting the zoo behave in disrespectful ways.  Often when we were at an exhibit, he would ask to move on when a group of children, teens and even adults were loud, showing off for their friends and acting whiny when animals would not properly pose for photographs.

By the end of our visit, we were more aware of human behavior in groups than we were of the animals enduring their day behind the fence.

We decided that the aviary was the happiest, most peaceful spot in the entire zoo.

Two Days to Get Here

Two Days To Get Here

Blooming Redbuds on the purple mountain

Topped with floating gray white felted cloud mass

Skipping down the peaks.

Wet rock profile old Cherokee face

In ancient stone.  Blue back packed hikers cross

the highway on the Appalachian Trail.

We search the bare forest for dark moving

Masses, rounded shape of black bear mother

slender spring cub clinging to Beech bark branch.

I can only imagine their presence, 

the dark mounds I glimpse turning into sap

Bulging like basketballs on the gray trunks.

Tender baby green leaves bud out on branch

The wakening forest spreads out her green

As we ride the curving climbing highway

Through dynamite blasted tunnel, the pass

Opening to five lanes of rushing speed.

Clouds as benevolent Spirit beings

Appear on the blue sky theater stage.

Their drifting dance a pictoral language

While they smoosh together and separate.

A dinosaur cow dances with a pig.

A magician blows a handful of smoke.

A funny shark swims with a Star Wars ship.

An elephant holding a teddy bear

Floats past a boy about to go fishing.

Ophelia looks to the heavens and sighs.

We suck saltwater taffy, banana.

Buttered popcorn, huckleberry and orange.

We see bison in a pen on the plains.

We see homeless men in weathered faces.

Spring tries to catch us in the hilly farms.

At the bottom of one hill, we find home.

Happiness Jar: Ninjas and Bridges

I have fallen out of habit once again.   The happiness jar sits on my stereo, half full.

But now I'm reminded to fill it with the upswelling of love that continues to float around my heart.

Like observing how  Elliot is cultivating a source of joy for his life through acts of giving.  Last month he raised 125 dollars for his cause through a bake sale. We delivered the funds on Friday.  The conversations he shared with the organizers at the IRC day center can only be described as effervescent.   Elliot is bubbly on an ordinary day, but was popping with charm in this special place where people gather to simply "be."

 While we drove away to celebrate giving with ice cream, he said "I feel so happy.  This is the best feeling."

Elliot is learning that giving is a renewable resource for feel-good living.   When I asked him what the highlight of his weekend was, delivering his "ninja bread" money to help people experiencing homelessness was at the top of the list.

It was even more special than wining first place in a bridge building contest.

And that teaches me something about my own ambition.

After the bridge competition, Elliot went back to "work" on a new t shirt design based on his original Elliot's Ninja character "Ninjability."  Ninjability represents the spirit of ability in the face of adversity and challenge.  This character developed in collaboration with our friend James Terpenning, who won a contest on Elliot's Ninja Art Facebook page.  James helped Elliot to understand that people who navigate the world by wheels often have abilities that exceed normal expectations.  As a member of the basketball team "The Rolling Hoopstars," winner of Extreme Home Makeover, and one of the orphans who were flown out of Vietnam during Operation Babylift, James inspires us by his incredible life story and the impact he makes in his community.

Here is the latest version of Ninjability, which Elliot plans to list in his Etsy shop this week.

Living History

This weekend, we were spectators of war.

It was part of our unit study on the Revolution.  Elliot and I have been learning about the events that led the colonists to unite and declare independence. Each spring, there is a battle reenactment on the grounds of the Battle of Guilford Courthouse.  It is an impressive display of gorgeous costumes and camps.   

Elliot was able to sit near the front row of the battlefield.  

We learned that the Religious Society of Friends set up a temporary hospital in the meeting house.  A mass grave of Revolutionary War Veterans from both sides exists in the cemetery. 

I noticed this today

I noticed this today.   A disengagement of interest happening.  I am less interested in activities that used to bring energy into my heart.

Where have I drifted?

I do not know what it means.  I do not know if it matters.

Right now I'm reading a book on writing.  I am going to share a passage so that when I copy each word I will remember that it once changed my writing.

From Several Short Sentences About Writing by Verlyn Klinkenborg:

     Who's going to give you the authority to feel that what you notice is important?
      It will have to be you.
      The authority you feel has a great deal to do with how
      you write, and what you write,
      With your ability to pay attention to the shape and
       meaning of your own thoughts
      And the value of your own perceptions.

      Being a writer is an act of perpetual self-authorization.
      No matter who you are.
      Only you can authorize yourself.
      You do that by writing well, by constant discovery.
      No one else can authorize you.
      No one.
      This doesn't happen overnight.
      It's as gradual as the improvement in your writing.

   

Blue Sky Weekend

      I took this picture two days after our last big snow/ice event, feeling so thankful that we made it through without any damage. We were one of the lucky families to keep our power.  During the storm, many trees were lost, inflicting damage to businesses, homes and vehicles.

       Winter here is different than I was used to during my life in the north.  While incredibly heavy snows and steady sub-zero temperatures have been  frustrating  maddening for my family in Michigan and Ohio, I cannot even mention the weather without seeming ridiculous.  Yet when winter strikes us in NC, it means damage and danger on the roads.  It means layers of ice, which makes it unsafe to go out.  During a typical Michigan winter, one embraces the snow, straps on a pair of skis or skates, and enjoys the white wonderland.   Here, we are lucky to have a few hours for sledding on a half mud, half snow covered hill because as soon as it snows, the sun generally appears to melt it.  And in the short time that winter descends in all her ferocious glory, people have to struggle with loss of heat, water, and lights, closed business and schools, and cabin fever.

       The cabin fever that arrives after two days of ice tells me how soft I have become in the last 12 years.  Living in an extreme climate instills an undefeated resilience within.  For years I lived in remote areas of northern woodlands, isolated from community in winter and spring, where melt water made the roads so muddy that it was impossible to drive.  We used to park our car nearly a mile away and hike in to our home.  I would put our groceries in a plastic sled and drag them to the house.  When it was time to take Emily to preschool, I covered her in snow pants and boots and we walked to the car in mud so slippery and deep that she fell several times.  When we got to school the teacher wondered what in the world could have happened.
   
   During the heaviest snows, I went for weeks without going anywhere or seeing anyone other than my child and my husband.  Cabin fever was a big reality.  I've noticed that here in the south, where I am used to getting out every single day, two days of being stuck inside can bring on a grumpy mood.   I am completely spoiled.

Recently we had snow that came down in feather sized flakes, so much more magical than the icy slush storm.   For Elliot, snow is peaceful and magical.  I hope he always keeps that sense of wonder.