Michael Chrobak's Blog: The Modern Mystic, page 2

Seriously Random, Day 6

I didn't write as much as I had wanted to yesterday. I don't know if it was the constant wind blasting outside, or just bad timing. Some days are like that. I'll wake up early, my mind already creating new possibilities to write. I'll eat breakfast, expanding the storylines that are developing in my head. I'll shower and get dressed, my new characters having conversations and interacting all the while. I'll make a pot of coffee, sit down at the computer, and...  Where did it all go?
​But that's okay, because there are also days when I have no idea what to write, but I sit down anyway. I'll do a hundred other things first: check email, play an online game, redesign a part of my website. Anything but write. But, then, I'll open my latest work-in-progress, set my fingers on the keyboard, and suddenly a flood of new ideas flow directly from my brain to the page. It becomes unstoppable, as if I could walk away and the story would continue to write itself. Those days are magic. They produce some of my best work.
​You see, creativity is not something you can intentionally strengthen. It's not like specifically doing squats to build muscles in your legs, or push-ups to build upper body strength. You can't do a specific activity and get a specified result. That's why the best way to increase your creative potential is to play. To make believe. To dream. I've had some of my biggest breakthroughs while taking a nap than with anything else.
​That's my plan for today. The house is empty, the coffee is brewed. I did all my morning activities. So now I'll just start to play. I usually start by reading a daily affirmation card, or two, if the first doesn't move me. You can get them at book stores, or gift shops. There are thousands of different themes. Today I read a card that talked about being more aware of having healthy boundaries. I think I'll start with a story about that, see if I can create a whole new world of characters who are dealing with boundaries in some way. Who knows, maybe I'll find a whole new genre to write in.
​Anyway, enough of that. I think I made my point. Besides, these posts are supposed to be purely random, not logical and structured or well thought out. Just the casual wanderings of an overly active and creative mind that has recently been freed from the tyranny of holding down a day job.
​I've been thinking lately about getting a puppy. Maybe it's just that I could use a little company around the house while my wife is at work or coaching track. But then I remind myself how much work it is to have a dog, and I go back to just being alone again. I could get a cat, far less maintenance there, but I'm allergic. Which means I wouldn't be able to keep it indoors, so, what's the use. Oh, well, I still have all my characters to keep me company. Although, maybe I could cross-breed a puppy with a boston fern. That would give me either a really playful plant, or a dog that only needs a little water once a week and doesn't poop. ​Yeah, that's how random my thoughts can be at times. Which is why I think it's hard to stay focused and write some days. My mind wants to wander and play and create, and I'm in the middle of a funeral scene. Not the best time for spontaneous activity.
​Okay, one more cup of coffee, and then it's down to work. I want to get in at least 2500 words today, maybe more. I hope you all enjoy your Saturday, whatever it is that you find yourselves doing. As always, be well today!!
Michael Chrobak

Bad Weather = Good Writing! (I hope)

Here comes the rain again! They say the storms this weekend will be the worst in twenty years. Already I hear the winds howling and threatening outside. My thoughts and prayers go out to anyone impacted by these storms. Especially those who will be out working in it. Those are the real heroes, the ones who keep us safe, keep our electricity flowing, respond to accidents and emergencies.
​I'll be spending the weekend tucked away, warm and dry. God willing, with plenty of coffee. The storm should provide a perfect backdrop for a few short stories I've been thinking of writing. My wife will be out coaching her team at the high school track meet, so I'll be mostly distraction free. (ha ha!) She coaches shot and discus. The teens love having her as a coach, and she has already taken a few of them to the state finals!
​It's interesting how we've both come to be involved in working with teens. Me with my youth ministry program, though I'm on hiatus for health reasons right now, and her with her 'throwers', as she calls them. We have them over our house every couple of weeks for a team dinner. I love those nights - being able to spend time with people who are in the best years of life.
​Don't get me wrong, being retired from the workforce is pretty amazing, too. But there's just something about that age that I absolutely love. Youth, quickly becoming adults, with nothing but potential. They are learning where they fit in eh world, what is most important to them, and who they are. It always gives me hope to see what is possible through their eyes. Makes me feel young again. At least until I wake up the next morning to the aches and pains of a body that could have used a lot more yoga and stretching over the years.
Anyway, back to my random thoughts. Although, I guess anything I write down is pretty much a random thought, really. That's one of the challenges of being a writer. I can't help but let my mind wander, even when it's not the best time for that. It's just that, something will happen, or someone will say something, and boom, I've got a new character in mind, or a new storyline develops. If I could, I'd sit down and start writing right then. But, like I said, it's not always the best time, or even remotely appropriate some times.
​But, this weekend, I'm going to have nothing to do and no where to go except into the fantasy worlds my mind dreams up. I'll open a new folder and start posting these short stories for you all to read. Just a word of warning, they will be completely raw. No edits or anything. Just me, a computer, and my imagination. Like doing improv as a comedian, or live television, whatever happens, happens.
​Of course, there will be copious amounts of coffee on hand to ensure my fingers can keep up with my brain. And I have a ton of treats around the house to provide the motivation to write. I have to admit, I'm really looking forward to this. I haven't done short stories for some time. Just focused on my novels and blogs. Make sure you follow me on Twitter or Instagram or Facebook as I'll be posting updates on my progress throughout the week. I'd love to interact with you, too, so I'll have some random stuff out there for you to participate with me.
​Hopefully the power doesn't go out. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. This storm sure has the potential to bring a blackout. You should hear the wind right now. My wind chimes are going crazy!
Be safe!
Stay warm!
​Keep dreaming!
Michael Chrobak

Perceptions of a Writer

I spend a lot of time thinking about my perceptions. Over the years, as I've studied various religions and read their sacred texts, I've come to understand that nothing is as we perceive it - at least not to anyone other than ourselves. Two people, no matter how closely related in mindset, understanding, or even philosophical views, can not look upon the same thing and perceive it alike. Regardless of what we believe, reality only exists in the way we perceive if for us alone. No one else views the world like I do.
​We all know that family where all but one of the kids grows up to be successful and established in life. All but one. We may wonder what happened, if something went wrong in the way the parents treated that one child over the others. but the truth is, the only difference was how that child perceived the way they were raised. Our perceptions create our responses to the world.
​Have you ever read a book that everyone was talking bout and recommending, only to read it and say, "I don't get it. What's so special?" The Alchemist​ was that book for me. So many people praised the book. Yet, I was bitterly disappointed when I read it. Perhaps my expectations were too great. Or perhaps it was just my perceptions. Probably the second.
​You see, everything that ever happens in our lives installs a filter through which we view all future events. We don't see the world as it is, we see our filtered version of it. No two people ever have the exact same filters. Once we understand this, we can begin to uninstall those filters, relieving us from so much disappointment, frustration and pain.
​To me, this is what writing is for. It provides a look at someone else's perceptions. We get to look through their eyes. And, yes, we still see what they see through our filters, so it's not exactly the same. But, it gives us the chance to recognize this and see our filters for what they are.
​Writing a story just to tell a tale or for the purpose of entertaining people has it's place. But, to me, the truest writing is that which makes the reader question their understanding of the world. It provides a new way of perceiving, going beyond the filters to witness the 'man behind the curtain', if you will.
​This is what I strive for when I write. I labor over every paragraph, wondering if I am saying too little, or too much. Wondering if I'm leading the reader, or trying to force them along. Wondering if my words are coming from my perceptions, or from truth. Don't get me wrong, it's impossible to not include some of my perceptions in the words I write. but not being aware that I am would present a story that would be far more one dimensional. It would only tell you what I think or how I feel. It wouldn't invite you to question for yourself. It wouldn't respect you or your way of seeing the world.
​This is why I write, and what I look for in the books I read. Don't tell me one more story just like the thousands of other stories out there that all say the same thing. Make me think. Get me invested in your words. Make me feel like they could have been my words, too. I think this is what most readers want, what they expect, and what they will most remember. They might not remember the story, and that's okay. I want them to remember how it made them feel.
​Yes, someday I hope to write an international best seller. But, only if it changes the world. Not just entertains it.
Michael Chrobak

Randomness, Day 4

Oh, the meanderings of my creative mind. There are times when I have to stop and ask myself, "Did I just think that?" I guess it's one of the hazards of being creative. If you know what I'm talking about, then you're probably a writer. If not, let me explain.
​I have this habit where, as soon as I meet someone new, I start developing a character around the way they talk, the way they move, how they smile. Whatever stands out. It's not something I consciously do. It just happens. I can't control it. Cashiers, people pumping gas near me. The dude sitting behind me at church? He doesn't know it, but he just became a villain in one of my story lines. Sorry, dude.
​Now, I'm not complaining. It's actually a lot of fun. Except when my mind creates a rather awkward or funny situation for the poor, unaware stranger, and I start laughing. Especially when the conversation isn't in synch with the humor of my mind. But, at least it's humor and not some twisted, dark, or haunting death scene or something. I mean, it's one thing to burst out laughing while staring at the candy rack while standing in line at the grocery store. It would be a totally different thing to suddenly gasp in terror. "I think I saw a spider" just wouldn't cut it.
​Sometimes I really, really want to tell the other person what my mind just created about them. I mean, I probably won't see them again. There are plenty of other cashiers, and when I run out of those, I could always shop somewhere else. But, I don't say anything. I just go home and write. Sometimes a quick, short story. Sometimes they get written into my current novel. In fact, the Brother Thomas series I'm currently working on started from a random thought I had after a five second moment of seeing someone whom I never met in person, nor learned anything about who she was. Just the way she stood, the expression on her face, the feeling she gave me when I saw her. Suddenly, she was the Endlessly Dying Girl​. ​​That's where that series started. Brother Thomas didn't come in until much later in the creative process. How he became the lead character is a testament to how I write. I was only trying to create a small backstory for his character. Yet, the more I wrote him into existence, the more powerful he became to the story. His is also one of the few characters not based on someone I've met. At least, no one that I can remember.
​The very first story I wrote was about a group of my friends from school. I was in the 6th grade when I started it. I gave it to my 7th grade English teacher to review. I never got it back. I think he must have lost it. Maybe it was so bad he decided to save the world from my lack of ability to write back then. I still remember some of it, though. As I do all of the other started-and-never-finished stories over the years.
​I've always thought about going back and trying to re-create some of them. Polish them up a bit, and finish where I left off. There really are quite a few. And a wide variety of genres, too. Mostly fantasy and sci-fi stuff. That's just where my mind goes most of the time. Probably because that's what I read in my youth. I was always the most fascinated how authors could create whole worlds, galaxies even. All with their own languages and religious customs. Maybe I'll meet someone who will prompt a journey into that level of writing. I think that would be fun.
Michael Chrobak

Who am I?

Okay, so Day 3 and I'm starting off raw. the past few days I've had an idea of where to begin, but not today. This could go anywhere. Hold tight.
​I think this is why I love to write. Like today, most of my days spent writing start from a completely blank slate. I have a few ideas of what I might want to write, but really, as Hemingway once said, "All you have to do is write one true sentence." And so, that's what I try to do.
​Now, I know writers who plan out their books, sketching fabulous timelines and plot developments. But I've never been good at planning things out. I'm much more of a 'by the seat of my pants' kind of fellow. I think that may be why I got into sales, and why I was pretty darn good at it, too. I loved being in situations where I had no idea what would happen next. Again, most of my co-workers would plan out glorious presentations with slides, and notes, and charts. I would show up blind. My goal was always to find the 'one true question'. Once I found it, I would craft my story, on the spot, and close the sale. You see, no one wants to hear what you want to tell them. They only want to hear what fill the empty spaces of their lives. Find their pain, show them how your product or service fills it, cash their check. It really is that simple.
​That's the same way I write. I look for one true sentence that leads me to a pain or emptiness in the world. Then, I create a character around that, and then put them in situations where they can find the answer to the question. Finding purpose in life is by far the greatest empty place in the lives of so many today. Far beyond the need to be happy, or to feel accepted, or to be loved. Knowing why we are here and what it is that we are meant to do. That's the darkness that haunts us, the devil that drives us to drink, or medicate, or push ourselves until we break. I, too, have faced that darkness. I know how frightening it can be.
​As I've said before, there is always a little piece of me in every character I create. Some are people I wish I was more like. Some are people I wish I wasn't. But they are all part of who I am or who I was at one point in time. I'm pretty sure it works, too. My eldest child, who does a great deal of the editing for my books, recently revealed how much she is learning about me through my words. Which, to me, is kinda cool. You see, I spent far too many years hiding who I really am from the world. Afraid of being hurt, I guess. Or afraid of losing my power. But hiding doesn't hold power, it erodes it. That's why, now, I'm pretty much an open book - sorry for the pun. I really don't care who knows my faults, what makes me cry, or where I'm most vulnerable.
​In fact, this little daily writing exercise is supposed to be private. It's just supposed to be for me and no one else. But I don't do that anymore. Ask any question you want - I will answer from the heart. Tell me what you like or don't like about my books. You won't hurt my feelings, or make me stop writing. Because, to be honest, I don't write for anyone else. I write because I no longer am able to not write. If I never sold a single copy of any of my books, I would still write. It's who I am. It's why I was born. This is my purpose.
​What's yours?
Michael Chrobak

Coincidence?

So, just why am I writing random thoughts every day for twelve weeks? Simple. The book I'm reading suggests it. The book is called ​The Artist's Way​ and is designed for artists of every kind who are struggling or blocked in their creativity. Although that does not describe me at this moment, I'm a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. When someone, or something, suggests I try this or that, I usually do. The one exception is food. There are just certain things I won't eat. End of discussion.
​And, so , when I accidentally bought a second copy of this book, I took it as a sign that it was time to read it. (The first copy has been sitting on my bookshelf for over ten years, which was before I started playing this 'Try Everything" game.) the author takes the reader through a twelve week program involving quite a variety of exercises. this is the primary one, however - the daily writing. It will last for the entire twelve weeks.
​Coincidentally, since I am only reading one chapter a week and needed something else to read the other days, I grabbed a book I thought I had already read, only to find my bookmarked page about one-third of the way in. This book also falls in the self-help category. Titled Positive Energy​, the author leads the reader on a ten week plan to become more aware of and make use of the subtle energy fields that flow through our bodies.
​Now, you might be thinking, "That sounds a bit New Age to me." And, I admit, if you use words like prana, chi, or chakra​, it would sound that way, which is why I don't. I use the term that medical science calls them. Biofields - or Morphic Energy. Either way, since medical science has proven they exist, we can't deny they are there. So drop any fear of offending God and play along.
​The fact that I picked these two books at the exact same time isn't lost on me, either. There is a guiding force that calls to us. It is placed there by our Creator on the day we are conceived. Some call it our purpose, or our destiny. Throughout out days, we are constantly called to become who we were born to be, to step outside of the world of this world and be the spiritual creatures that God made us. So, to have two books at the same that that will prompt me to reflect on who or what I'm being called to be and do is the most amazing feeling to me. It means I'm about ready for yet another evolution in this life. Perhaps a new way of seeing how the interconnected nature of all that is can become more of a centralized theme in how I approach each day. Who knows? The cool part is, I'm taking you all along with me on this journey. It may only last the twelve weeks of the program for this book, or it may go on beyond that.
​One thing I can promise, I will tie everything back into my Catholic faith. That has become my foundation for all I do, and I will never turn my back on that. I am truly looking forward to where this journey takes me, and how it changes my writing. I am also looking forward to one day being able to write, by hand, an entirely new novel. Like I always wanted to do.
Michael Chrobak

Just Write!

"Write," she says.
​"About what?" I wonder.
​"About anything, and everything, and nothing at all. Just write. Get a pen, a notebook, and a quiet place. And write."
​Still unsure of what I will end up with, I begin to scratch pen on paper, leaving telltale trails of black ink behind. Perhaps in this writing I will find my muse, or myself. Most likely I'll find it is hard to hold the pen for that long. Already my hand and arm are starting to ache. I don't write that much, not with the ease and simplicity of the computer. Writing is slower. And painful. My thumb is hurting. My fingers feel tight. There is even a feeling of resistance in my wrist. And I'm not even one-third of the way done. Not even one full page yet. I should have picked a smaller notebook. Much, much smaller.
​I used to write by hand as a child. Hour after hour, pencils disappearing as the words came to life. Then, life changed. Babies came. Bearing with them these things called 'responsibilities'. And bills. Far too many bills. So the paper and pen were set aside and instead I took on the role of dutiful father, husband, middle-class American, and entry-level retail management. That became my story for thirty years, raising four wonderful children who are all responsible adults now. Out in the world on their own. Well, all but one. But more on that later.
​So, why go through this? Why after so many years do I put pen to paper again, trying to turn the flow of creativity back on? Because I have to. It was why I was born. All those years of silent dreaming never drove away the desire to write, to be creative. It only made it harder and harder not to. So, last year, my wife and I had a conversation. I told her of my dream. We looked at finances, made some changes, and now I write. Not everyday, but most. The hardest part for me is when a book goes into the editing stage. Not because I'm afraid of what the editor will think of my work. But because during those days I don't write as much. I can hear my characters calling out to me, lonely and wanting to play. But I ignore them as best I can. I need to stay focused and ready to re-write paragraphs, sections, even whole chapters. I need to keep my creative energy in a box for now.
​That's where I am right now, in fact. Waiting for more edits. Trying to figure out how to take a chapter that wasn't the final one and make it the end. Because the editor likes they way it leaves the reader in suspense. A bit of a cliff hanger, I guess. Funny thing is, though, I agreed right away. That's why I never self-edit my books. Another pair of eyes and all that really does help. It makes me a better writer for sure. My first book required far more edits than my current one has. Perhaps someday I'll get a manuscript back with only the word 'PERFECT' scrolled across the top. Hopefully not, though. I do enjoy the process of editing, trying to find new ways of saying the same thing. Or finding whole new possibilities that I hadn't thought of before.
​And that, my friends, brings me to the end of Day 1. Be well!
Michael Chrobak

Winter Blahs

I hate winter. Well, maybe hate is too strong of a word. Perhaps significantly dislike would be a better choice. You see, for the past year or so, I've been somewhat of a recluse. I've only been away from the house on less than ten occasions during the past year. One of those trips was a ten day stay in the hospital - not really my choice. And the rest, other than one, were trips to doctors for follow-up appointments regarding that hospital stay. The final one was a three hour Christmas shopping trip.
Being a recluse hasn't been a choice I made willfully, but one that has been thrust upon me due to circumstances regarding my current state of health, along with lingering anxiety from the last time I was behind the wheel of a car. But, to be honest, I really don't mind not going anywhere. I have everything I need in the modest home I live in. I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything. Except during winter.
You see, I am an avid nature lover. I absolutely love being outside – except when it's cold. When the temperature drops below 70, I become far less comfortable than when it is above that mark. When it gets into the 50's, forget it. My love for being warm far outweighs my love for being outside. So I stay indoors. A lot.
Now, again, that's not a bad thing. My computer is indoors after all. Which means I can spend my day writing. When I grow tired of that, I have stacks of books waiting to be read, and another stack of warm blankets as well. But, at some point during those days, I will inevitably walk past a window. And when I do, I'll look outside, and I'll want to be there. And so I'll check my phone, curious as to the current temperature beyond the glass. Even looking at temperatures below 60 make me shiver.
There are a few days where I will brave the cold. Times when the gutters need to be cleaned, or weeds need to be pulled. Today was one of those days. Today it was time to take down Christmas. Now, I love putting Christmas up. The day after Thanksgiving, while thousands of people are fighting for the last box of whatever crap our consumer based society is pushing that year, I'm in the make-shift attic above our garage, pulling down boxes and bags filled with my favorite time of the year.
By noon on that day, regardless of the weather or the temperature, Christmas begins to appear. The lights are placed on the roof and gutter first, then the porch is decorated. Finally, the yard art gets assembled and displayed. When that's done, it's time to do the inside. Our two trees go up, ornaments get hung, all our regular dishes, plates, glasses and mugs get boxed up and the Christmas ones come out. Stuffed characters are placed in random locations throughout the house. Scented candles are lit.
It's an all day process. We blast Christmas carols, we drink holiday flavored coffees. It's joyous, festive and hopeful. Nothing at all like today. Today, there was no music playing. There were no holiday flavored coffees. There definitely wasn't much joy. Today, Christmas was a chore, a job, something on the To-Do list. The only thing good about today, is that it doesn't take all day. From the first stuffed Santa pushed back in his box, to the last strand of lights ripped off the house, the whole thing is over and done in about two hours. No music, no joy. The house is normal once more.
This year, my daughter was out for most of the day. When she left, the house was still decorated. When she returned, it was not. She stood in the family room for a moment, then sang the first few lines from Where Are You Christmas, the song Faith Hill performs in the Jim Carrey movie, How The Grinch Stole Christmas. It summed up how I was feeling perfectly.
You see, Christmas starts when it's still Fall. Four short days into Winter, it's over. All that's left now is trees with no leaves, houses with no decorations, and me stuck inside, waiting for Spring. Yeah, I significantly dislike winter. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need a nap.
Michael Chrobak

This New Year

For most of my adult life, the question 'What is all this for?' has been predominant in my mind. Some days the question carries a positive and hopeful energy, as if to say anything's possible. Other times the question is mired in concern and anxiety, a reminder that life is fleeting, temporary. Through the years I've learned the important thing is not to get caught up during the pendulum swing, to celebrate the difficult days with as much enthusiasm as the best days. Definitely not an easy thing to do, especially given the constant barrage of messages we receive from our external environment. But still, it is possible. The key is in recognizing the purpose of each moment.
Let's face it, most of us go through most of our day without being present to the moment. And though that phrase is becoming less sacrosanct as it finds familiarity within the mainstream, it is a concept that must be approached with some reverence and awe. It is a fundamental truth, something that exists for all people at all times, regardless of our understanding or belief in it.
Think about it this way. We don't engage in conversations about remembering to breath, even though it is a basic and necessary factor in maintaining life. It is what is known as a fundamental truth, meaning it applies to all living creatures at all times, regardless of their ability to understand the process. The same holds true for the process of being present. As much as breathing holds the key to our physical lives, present moment awareness holds the key to our spiritual lives. Stop breathing – you die. Stop being present – you become disconnected, lost, desperate or depressed. In short, your spiritual life dies.
Perhaps this is why the pharmaceutical industry is so heavily invested in mental health products. We know there is something missing from our lives, but we don't know what, or even where to begin looking. And yet, the answer we seek isn't out there somewhere. It isn't in that next promotion, or a better job, or a different relationship. It doesn't come after the kids are grown and moved out, or after we retire and start traveling. The answer is within us. It always has been. We just don't find it, because we are too busy looking everywhere else.
Which brings me to the topic for this post – This New Year. At the time when most of the world is choosing which resolution they will commit to, there is really only one that matters. Only one that can effect every other attempt change our lives for the better. For behind every change we attempt, there is another fundamental truth. That is, we cannot become who we are meant to be if we keep using the same thoughts that got us where we are. To create any change, we must become conscious to our thoughts.
The desire to lose weight is not a desire to lose weight, but a desire to change how we think about food and eating. The desire to get back in shape is not a desire to improve our physical health, but a desire to change how we think about the importance of having a healthy body. Any change we wish to undertake relies fully on our ability to not only change our thinking, but to maintain the new way of thinking long enough for it to become autonomous, like breathing.
Present moment awareness gives us this connection. It provides the link between desire and achievement, not in just some cases, but in every situation where change is involved. The reason people fail in keeping their resolutions is not a lack of will power, but a lack of awareness. That's it. The more aware we are, the easier it is to create and maintain the change we desire. Our actions are not the key, our thoughts are not the key. It is our awareness of our thoughts that is solely responsible for our ability to create the life we have always dreamed possible.
This is why we will never find the answer to the questions in our lives outside of ourselves. No one, no thing, no situation is responsible for controlling and understanding our thoughts. We alone hold that power, although we can, and frequently do, give that power away. How? By blaming others for the situations we are in. By believing our happiness is tied to anything other than our desire to be happy. No one, no thing, and no situation can take that away.
So, for this new year, don't set the standard resolutions you've probably already tried a dozen times in the past. Set one that will actually make a difference. Set a resolution to become more aware. How you do so is up to you. You can read a book, take a class on present moment awareness, or perhaps find a guru or join an ashram. It really doesn't matter. Because, once you make the commitment to become more aware, you'll find that awareness just begins to flow. And the more aware you become, the more you understand the process of life. It's just that simple. Make a declaration, and then let your spiritual nature lead you in the direction it is already calling you towards. Michael Chrobak