Category Archives: Deep Thoughts

Juggling Act

I finally got that review done on the writing that was passed to me three weeks ago.

Three weeks. That’s awful turnaround time. (Sure, there was Easter and an out of town trip in there, plus a week of insanity, and a little boy who’s thrown naps to the wind, but still.)

And it looks like I and four other people have finally successfully scheduled a meeting that we’ve been trying to nail down since the beginning of February. February.

I saw dozens of people at the gig on Saturday night who I hadn’t seen in months, friends whom I’ve known for years in some cases but haven’t been in close contact with for a while. And with the way life is for each of us, I probably won’t see them again till the next gig. But it was wonderful to see them, even briefly, and to exchange a hug and a couple of words. That will tide us over until the next meeting. In the meantime, I take a second to think of them when they pop into my head, send good energy their way, and wish them well.

I go to bed at night and as I’m falling asleep I remember at least a half-dozen things I wanted to do and didn’t accomplish. Sometimes it’s eating a meal. Sometimes it’s calling the bank. Sometimes it’s making a doctor’s appointment for myself. And these things drag on and on because there’s always something else to be doing or thinking about, like chasing Liam or doing groceries or running to band or orchestra or trying to prepare for coven or class. Time seems to telescope, and I don’t realise how long some things have been carried over from one day’s list to the next, and the next, and the next. The days all blur together.

I feel like I’m about three months behind myself, all the time. And the only way to deal with it is to let it go and focus on the immediate things in life in my main sphere of responsibility. Liam, me, HRH. Then parents and closest, dearest friends. Then other friends and acquaintances in order of how well we know one another, what kind of situation they’re in, who else they have to look out for them, and so forth.

I only have so much energy. I can’t do everything. I can’t take care of everybody. These are valuable lessons I’ve learned over the years. It has to be me and mine first. It’s the only way to stay sane doing this juggling act.

Criticise This

It occurred to me on the way home from dropping Liam off to play with his Auntie Pasley that my inner critic has been taking over my brain for the past three weeks. It’s been scraping away at my spirituality (why do I bother?), my writing (I have a book coming out in a month, so of course now I’m waking up at night desperately wishing I’d left something out, or included something else, or said something differently), and my music (I’ve been tame in how I’ve expressed myself here over the past few days to protect audience and fellow bandmates from my self-loathing). I’m surprised it hasn’t told me that I’m a bad mother yet, because Liam’s not napping as long as he should and waking up at night.

But you know what? My inner critic can go take a long walk off a short pier.

We now return me to my regular scheduled programming. I’m passably good at some of what I do, really good at most of it, and I enjoy myself. So my inner critic can just go hang out with the bottom feeders in the cold murky muddy depths of the seaway.

About Owls’ Court

Why does Owls’ Court exist? Why do I keep a journal? Why is it online?

Owls’ Court is all about musing — inspiration, exploring what makes people do what they do, how I see life and the people around me; how I make sense of life through creativity; and some good old-fashioned working out stuff that I’m trying to get a handle on through writing. It’s also about having fun, and staying in touch – with myself, and with others.

Here’s some of my thoughts on the subject, taken from various posts over the years.

February 12, 2006:

Yes, we at the Court have now been journaling online for four years. It’s the longest I’ve ever kept any sort of steady diary-type thing. (I’m not counting my spiritual journals; those are an ongoing record of spiritual work, and they’re more like workbooks to me.)

I began it as a simple method of making myself write regularly. If there were people out there who were reading it, I reasoned, then I’d feel more apt to update. In addition, it provided me with a place to think aloud. Contrary to the reason why some people blog, I don’t journal publicly for comments or to create dialogue. I journal publicly to keep myself honest. Yes, there have been times where I’ve gone over old entries and wondered what on earth I could have been thinking at the time, but more often than not I’ve been amused at a turn of phrase, reminded of a deeply emotional moment, or been able to shore up my memory as to what was happening in my life at any given time. It’s a place to celebrate, to explore, to vent, and to create. It’s casual, not formal; it’s me, not a marketing tool. I’m fond of it.

It’s been invaluable in helping pinpoint my obstacles during the writing process, and more importantly, the process of rewriting and how I handle edits of my work. I can log accomplishments, complain through the hard bits, and at the end post triumph. I can’t deny weakness or failure if I’ve journaled it either. Acknowledging even the less desirable parts of me as seen through past entries has taught me a lot, too.

I’ve met some really fabulous people, deepened friendships with acquaintances, and learned a lot about myself. Here’s to our fourth anniversary, little owlies; may we have many, many more.

February 2005:

I blog for a variety of reasons:

It keeps me honest. As a writer, I have to remind myself that a book appearing once a year means that readers only see what I think once a year. A daily web log makes me write every day, and makes me write things that are important to me every day, and write things which other people will read every day. Even if I just comment on my mood, I make sure it’s professional to some degree. I want to keep contact with my readers, and a web journal is an extended method of doing this.

It keeps me focused on who I am. I blog about what’s important to me, what amuses me, or what’s occupying my mind. Sometimes I get conversation in return, sometimes not. I don’t blog for the comments, I blog to work my ideas out. (Not necessarily ideas for writing, but most often ideas about writing.) My journal allows me to explore issues in a structured fashion. And, also related to the previous reason, I write them in such a way that it’s “publishable” without going through without going through the process of finding a market for a 300-word piece on the subject of whatever’s on my mind that day.

I blog as a method of staying in touch with friends and family. I’ve also met dozens of wonderful new friends via my weblog and/or theirs.

I blog to keep a record of my progress through various situations. I find it extremely useful to be able to look back and see what I was working on at any given time, how I felt about it, and what sort of challenges I faced. I find it fascinating to read the online journals of other authors and artists as they work through a project, and I imagine that I have readers like this, too. Again, it has to with documenting the process of creation. (Can you tell I find the creative process fascinating?)

I find personal journals more interesting than the weblogs of companies which detail news and upcoming releases. I think the format of weblogs allows individuals the opportunity to re-examine the concept of personal expression. And while it’s true that the format of a weblog means that anyone and everyone with varying degrees of skill at self-expression can post stuff (and yes, there’s a lot of dreck and wasted space out there), it also means that people who may otherwise not have had the opportunity to express themselves in a semi-public fashion can share their ideas.

February 12, 2002 (the launch day):

Who am I? Goodness, you’re all just so thirsty for knowledge, aren’t you. Ten points to you all.

“Who” is just so subjective, don’t you think? Who I am changes daily, what with cells replacing themselves, ideas evolving, new skills acquired, old skills falling by the wayside�

So instead, I’ll toss out a semi-random spray of info; little packets that you can assemble into whatever order you like and construct your own mental version of the Author.

I love owls, and foxes. My home is decorated with blades and Pre-Raphaelite prints. I’ve played the cello since 1994, and I currently play with the Lakeshore Chamber Orchestra. I work in a bookshop. I possess a Magisteriate in English Literature. I love fountain pens, and dip pens are my newest experiment. I dislike being rushed, and being told I should or shouldn’t do something is the most direct route to making sure I will not/will do it (or at least consider not doing it). I like being outside, but bugs diminish the enjoyment. Rowan trees are nifty. So is mythology, and spirituality, and metaphysics. Rain is fun. Floods are not. Good friends are invaluable, and I have a bunch of them, some who are new, some who have been around for over a decade. Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor. Sometimes I can be in a crowded room and be quite alone. Then again, sometimes I can be in an empty room and be overcome by companionship. Star Wars, not Star Trek (but Trek’s okay too). Not enough people are taught Shakespeare properly. Jane Austen rules. The Bard is the most under-appreciated character in any AD&D campaign.

Oh, and be ye warned — books will show up a lot as a topic. We’ll focus on why some other time, or else my work of the day will lie untouched and management will gently ask why the heck they’re paying me.

Challenges

I’ve been faced with a couple of difficult choices recently.

The first concerns the fact that I’ve lately struggled with wanting desperately to take up dancing again. I’ve always wanted to go back, but over the past ten years I’ve come up with every reason in the book to avoid it: I haven’t the money, I’m working too hard, I haven’t the time, there’s no studio near me, I’m shy, etcetera. The single sample class I took a decade ago ended in tears and a vow to never, ever show my face in a studio room again. Looking back, accepting the invitation of a sample class towards the end of a semester was really stupid, because I measured myself (having not danced at all for nine years) against women who had been training for fourteen solid weeks. Barre work was all right, but I stumbled badly in my floor work, and couldn’t remember the moves to match the names the teacher called out in combination sequences as we performed them across the room one by one. It scarred me badly.

I’m taking sample classes at two different ballet studios at the beginning of September. In both, I’ll be starting from the very basic beginner’s classes once again, to preserve mental and emotional sanity as well as to be kind to my body. I’ve retained most of my flexibility and posture (training for six years as your body forms and grows will do that for you), but muscles evolve with you, and I’m not stupid enough to think that I can just jump into an advanced class right off the bat.

So, there; one of my difficult choices. I’ll be dancing at one or both of them this fall.

The second difficult choice revolves around something very personal and emotional that occurred to me four and a half years ago (which scarred much deeper than the dancing issue). It took me quite some time to heal from the original experience, and I eventually dealt with it and moved on (without the other individual in my life, by my choice; I don’t hold grudges, I just don’t offer people the second chance to backstab me). On Sunday, this situation and the individual originally involved in it were resurrected in my memory by three different people, at three distinctly different and unrelated times.

I had a hard time working through what I was supposed to do about this, because I didn’t know what lesson Spirit was trying to teach me: how to surrender and accommodate, or how to say no. I’m very good — too good, some have said — at accommodating. I am bad, very bad, at saying no. In this instance, choosing to accommodate means that other people receive a lower-quality service. After the summer I have had, and the experiences I went through at the spiritual retreat ten days ago, and after meditation and divination and discussion with a couple of people I trust, I have chosen to interpret this as a lesson in saying no. The quality of my teaching and facilitating other people’s spiritual growth is very important to me, and I won’t have that interfered with. I owe that to my students, who trust me.

Trying to puzzle out which lesson I was to be learning through this was not fun. Both outcomes had drawbacks. Whichever lesson I followed through, there was pain and disappointment. Another one of those no-win, choose-the-lesser-evil situations. I had a very emotional day as I evaluated who I was, who I had been, and who I wanted to be in the future. I’ve made my choice now, and it’s the right one.

These are two very different challenges I have worked through. They both involve dealing with pride and spirituality: one expressed through movement and discipline; the other through a final emotional purging, a recognition that everything changes, and an acceptance of a teacher’s full responsibility, which sometimes must include saying no.

Whew. Can I get off the growing-up treadmill for a bit now, please? Just for a rest?