Being Present

IMG_2839And so a new week begins. A chance to start over, or continuing doing the same. There is so much to do, or if I am being totally honest, just choices. I can choose to do them all or none. It’s a daily struggle as so much to be seen as tasks. It’s tempting to see so many things as have-to’s when in reality there are just I want-to-do’s.  The Sea Change Programs reminds me to be mindful.  Be present. Be here.  Not lost in thought or planning ahead or looking behind. Month 2 of Facebook fasting has begun, but there have been some slips here and there. Because I have not deactivated my account, I still receive notifications, and the urge to check is immense. But as Leo Bautista taught, I stay with the urge, I let it build up and then I let it go. It feels facetious to tell people that I am not on Facebook because it’s something I am doing for myself. Just like I signed up for Nanowrimo, but the part in me that needs acknowledgement is always hungry. Always needs to be fed. If it’s not shared, then it doesn’t exist.

I am still surprised that I influence others because most of the time what I am doing seems so solitary, so alone as if I am just here with  my thoughts. Writing and working out and really anything that involves just you is an individual task, but that doesn’t mean it has to be done alone. I see the contradiction as I write it, but then it hits me. There is no reason to go at it alone. It may seem like that you are doing it all by yourself, but others are there. You just have to be mindful enough to know that. Be present. Be here. One thing at a time. One choice at a time.


Dreaming Awake

So begins another week. Another Monday. I struggled waking up this morning.  No alarm, but the phone showed 7:27 am when I looked at it.  I closed my eyes for a few delicious seconds, and almost drifted off, but then the  thought broke through that the mornings were the only time I had to write. If I want to write a novel in 30 days for Nanowrimo, I better get used to a routine of sorts. So I sit in the library, the windows open, the daylight pouring over the laptop, the smell of the hot coffee swimming near my senses, awakening me. I feel like a writer. I have all the tools. Except for one small one. The words. Those pesky letter that i can litter on a blank piece of paper so I can actually stop feeling like a fraud. That can make this more than a dream. A writer.

So I sit there, noticing everything yet avoiding looking at the blank screen of me. The cursor blinks patiently. It disappears and then appears. Waiting. I yawn, scratch myself, take a sip of the coffee, and promptly go on Twitter or play Words with Friends. Minutes pas. The timer counts down. Suddenly, a thought. I lean over the laptop, pausing uncertainly but then the first words appears. The clicks of the keyboard motivate to keep going. They may not be Rembrandt or Hemingway, but it’s a start. I am awake. The dream is in front of me.


Facebook Fasting and Writing

LALALALA-600x450So I began a Facebook fast, and I can’t help noticing the irony that this post will post to my Facebook timeline. It’s as if I need the constant validation that someone is reading my story. That YOU know that I am NOT on Facebook.  I have become addicted to telling everyone how much and how far I have run to bragging about my Spartan run.  Like those goals wont matter much if the 500 plus people on my social media don’t know about it. It’s such a relief not to check constantly to see what I missed in the past few minutes, but on the other hand, I have played the crap out of Words with Friends. Tried tweeting, but really it feels like a bunch of status updates that no one responds to (really 500 followers and not one of you has anything to say to me?)

Yet really what it really comes down to (and yes here comes the excuse), is that I am a writer. And writers write to be read. Which led me to realize that I had completely stopped reading. It was as if I had decided that I no longer needed to grow up. Yet it was reading and write that caused me to analyze who I am as a person and who I wish to be.  As much as I talk, I really don’t say much to the ones near me. I spend a lot of time in my head, and for those closest to me (cough, cough my wife), it can be highly aggravating.

I don’t know when I became so social and introverted as the same time. It’s as if I am saying nothing, just taking up space so you know I am here. I shared too much of the things that don’t matter, and not enough of the things that can make relationships stronger. It’s as if I am talking on mute, and there are no sub-titles.

Hello? Anyone there?