Ann Imig's Blog, page 6
November 30, 2017
#30BrighterDays: gains, losses, and lying punk egos
The 30th Brighter Day! The 30th blog post in 30 days. I have less than 30 minutes worth of one kid’s drum lesson to finish this post before I need to make dinner and head to the other kid’s orchestra concert.
Today marks a milestone, in completing a new endeavor to brighten November, and also that I’ve posted more in one month than I do in most entire years. Furthermore I tasked myself with a practice and stuck with it even when I didn’t feel inspired! And!! The process brought inspiration back to me every single day.
What have I gained?
Direction, momentum, perspective, practice, a new workshop idea in development, re-connection with different communities (including a grad school professor I admire from over a decade ago).
What have I lost?
The feeling of being creatively stuck and also personally decentered, ungrounded, and other adjectives spellcheck dislikes recognizing.
What have I learned?
My ego lies!!! Ignore it and carry forward.
People say depression lies, and not to believe it (easier said than done for those suffering a serious bout of clinical depression, no doubt). #30BrighterDays taught me that my ego lies BIG TIME. My ego tells me all sorts of stories about what I can and cannot, should and should not attempt, not to mention who I think really am anyway and what other people think of me.
In the same way you can tell a perfectionist a thousand times that it’s okay that they’re not everyone’s cup of tea, you can also tell us to stop worrying about what others think because everyone is only concerned about themselves and not thinking about you anyway. Our ingrate egos will ignore you much of the time–even though we know better. Instead of basking in, following, and receiving the abundant love in our lives, our perfectionist egos will wake us in the middle of the night to obsess over even the perception of a whiff of a hint of the tiniest burr caught in the fabric of a friendship or interaction.
My ego says people like my humor writing better! My ego says enough with the introspection! My ego says not enough never enough (choose the category)! My ego eyerolls a lot.
Listen it’s not all negative up in my head–I love my life and my people!! I love myself too… definitely in theory, and I’m working on practice. But how easily I tune in to the hum of that perfectionist ego frequency. I know so many others do too. #30BrighterDays ignored my lying punk ego entirely. #30BrighterDays freed me to shine whatever light I mustered on any given day. #30BrighterDays reminded me once again that practice makes possible.
Thank you for joining me this month! Stay tuned for exciting announcements regarding a local #30BrighterDays workshop!!
p.s. Did you know that hashtags (aka the number sign #) are searchable online? If you type #30BrighterDays in the search box on my annsrants.com sidebar, you can find all of the posts from the month. You can also search it on Twitter and Facebook. Bonus brightness: Now you know what a hashtag is even if you’ve been afraid to ask since 2008.
p.p.s If you followed a link here I sure would love it if you’d subscribe!
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November 29, 2017
Today’s Gifts #30BrighterDays
Sunshine.
Bodies that heal and can take you anywhere you want to go.
A sample of a red lip color that is completely perfect (Bare Minerals Statement Matte Liquid Lipcolor in VIP. Not paid to say that, because I am super good at not getting paid to say things).
Sunshine.
Tom Kha soup.
A pom pom hat.
Sunshine.
You. Me. Today. Exactly as we are.
***
Keeping it short today. Tomorrow will likely be longer and more reflective as I wrap up #30BrighterDays
November 28, 2017
Planting Bulbs: On Growth You Can’t Measure #30BrighterDays
Dig a trench. Throw in some bulbs. Cover them with dirt. I’ve never planted bulbs, but I hear it’s simple. Do the work before the first frost, and with luck tulips shoot up come springtime.
In the meantime you have frozen ground, growth you can’t measure, and blind faith that results await.
I’m in a planting bulbs phase. Each time I sit down to write, each time I publish and share a blog post, another bulb goes in the trench. I don’t know where this leads, and I cannot measure my progress except for showing up every day to practice. Writing this blog post serves my practice and also, importantly, enables me to acknowledges progress toward the culmination of #30BrighterDays of November as well as unseen unknowable greater progress.
Not knowing fans my insecurity. I enjoy claiming a title, situating myself in a position or project, and charting my course toward a defined goal. Accomplishment fuels my confidence.
On one hand, I hold a strong belief in my path and my potential. On my other weaker hand, I clutch doubt and fears of falling short–that I’ve already failed.
In my heart, I know that practice–showing up and planting bulbs below ground of writing, learning, loving, and serving–will keep my light brighter and hopefully, eventually bring about a spring bouquet.
This post is part of #30BrighterDays; a thing I made up to brighten each day of November
November 27, 2017
Helping kids write, helping me write #30BrighterDays
My kids dislike writing. Many of the kids in my son’s class do, too. I know this because I assist in my fifth-grader’s classroom with writing twice weekly.
The Process
Even though I write with some level of skill, I have no solid teaching methods beyond intuition and parenting experience. Those don’t necessarily help when a kid simply does not want to go deep brain-diving for word inspiration, or to try catching the right words in a net, to fish that inventory out of their head, not to mention to then string it all together.
For the most part, other subjects–math, science, reading, social studies, even a second language–hold clear right and wrong answers that you can learn, store and retrieve at will. If you pick the wrong answer, you may browse internally or externally for the correct answer.
With writing, you have to populate the entire answer inventory, and then also try to shape it into a narrative (thank you fifth grade vocabulary refresh!). When your narrative doesn’t flow, sometimes you need to return deep within your brain for new inventory, and other times you only need to rearrange what you have. Often you simply don’t know, which feels frustrating enough when you already have mastery over the process, but especially when you’re a beginner and wrestling to grasp concepts.
Adding an audience– a reader– creates another level of difficulty. Your idea, and your word inventory plus the shape of the narrative all need to stack-up both for you, and for your reader. You need comprehension at a minimum, and ideally, resonance. For a student, the teacher must see that you understand and completed the assignment with some degree of success. As a writer, you need your reader to understand you, you need to hold their interest, and you want them to like or love your writing.
When I’ve helped with reading, spelling, or math in past years, the kids didn’t worry about a completed assignment being “good” or their idea being “stupid.” With writing the stakes feel higher and more personal. Writing brings insecurity and vulnerability along with, eventually, tremendous potential for adventure, creativity, insight and even delight.
The Performance
I know some writers might argue that audience opinion holds no bearing over their work. I don’t know, unless they’re publishing nonstop–one best seller after the next–or keeping their words under lock-down in a journal, the rest of us writers perform. We need our audience for page-views, engagement (i.e dialogue with our readers), money (lol) fame (lololol), publication, book deals, self-worth, validation etc. Our motivations vary, but the desire and need for readers remains a constant.
With a few notable exceptions of kids filling page after page, I watch many of the fifth-graders struggle to write. I stick with them as they try to express themselves, all the while managing the constant interruptions of wrangling with their grammar and punctuation, not to mention highly distracting protest burps and wiggly “flossing” entertainment from their classmates. Often as much as they get fatigued and want to quit, I also get fatigued and want to quit helping them. It’s hard enough to find your own words and make sense of them, not to mention someone else’s. However I feel devoted to my job to see them through. I honor that time as a meaningful way to hold space with them, and work through resistance while serving their education.
The Lesson
Getting myself to write when I feel uninspired–getting those words and thoughts to come together despite myself and my inner critic ego–brings me great satisfaction. Moreover, writing about my day or my world often casts a new light on my experience–helping me crystalize memories or gain a helpful perspective I would’ve missed otherwise.
Next time I don’t want to write (or insert your own practice here) I’m going show up for myself like I show up for the fifth graders; in service, with devotion, and possibly also some flossing.
This post is part of #30BrighterDays; a thing I made up to brighten each day of November
November 26, 2017
5 signs it’s Sunday of a holiday weekend
Buddy, my DIL (dog in law)
2. Out of a deck of 44 goddess oracle cards you choose Cordelia whose messages states “You have been indoors too long. Go outside and get some fresh air.”
3. You need a quick snooze immediately following your nap.
4. After a meal you need a dessert. After dessert you look for a snack. After a snack your eyes scan the room for candy dishes just to play it safe.
5. You hear Demogorgon sounds coming from your stomach. Suddenly it makes sense why 1980s cartoon celebrity Ziggy never wore pants.
(Enjoy your Sunday, everyone.)
***
This post is part of #30BrighterDays; a thing I made up to brighten each day of November
November 25, 2017
Better than a Black Friday Bargain #30BrighterDays
We plugged this parking meter with nickles and pennies. For real.
One thin dime couldn’t even shine your shoes when On Broadway was released in 1963, but in 2017 downtown Sycamore, Illinois ten cents buys you two full hours of street parking.
Once in high school, the art teacher stopped on the stairway in front of me to pick up a penny. He turned to me with his eyes smiling and said “PENNIES turn into DOLLARS” and waved his hand around the coin to disappear it like a magician.
Earlier this week my younger son questioned the relevancy of the penny. Today my mother-in-law, sister-in-law and I used them to buy an hour of window shopping in the sunshine.
***
This post is part of #30BrighterDays; a thing I made up to brighten each day of November
November 24, 2017
Familial #30BrighterDays
Last night I got my first decent sleep in many days. Thanksgiving feast for 19 was a resounding success; a relaxed convivial atmosphere wherein foil serving troughs blissfully coexisted with Spode china.
Everyone cooked and served and cleaned, which made hosting doable and even more intimate. All those hands whisked, served, cleared and washed together who in years past diapered, fed, rocked, and wiped faces alongside me (or, me, in the case of my parents).
I love when family and friends combine and it all feels familiar. Familial. If you want to see the biggest grin on my face? Watch me watching people I love enjoying each other; like when someone takes your book recommendation seriously enough to actually read it, only to flip out over it as much as you and report back. That feeling times ten plus watching it play out in real time. I delight in seeing my peers and my parents interact, I adore overhearing snippets of conversations and seeing my husband and kids through other people’s eyes.
My dad carved the turkey. I’m so glad I asked him. In truth I welcomed the help, but I forgot it’s also a head of family tradition and an honor. My mom’s horseradish cranberry sauce earned new superfans. They–and my step-parents too– brought with them a light happy spirit.
Husband asked one of the five teenagers how he was enjoying middle school. “I’m a sophomore in high school, but I liked it when I was there!” We are in the losing track of whole inches and entire grades years.
My grade school girlfriends coordinated a synchronized toast to our friendship across three time zones.
Before I fell asleep I conducted an internal review of some of my most favorite insecurities. Nothing more convincing, deluded, and worse for sleep than an over tired super ego–the one that ignores all of my blessings and demands to know where my blog readership went and who exactly I think I am anyway. Whatever, she’s family too. I put that familiar nutsy lady night night, and woke up rested, brighter. I didn’t even mind finishing up the last of the dishes.
This post is part of #30BrighterDays; a thing I made up to brighten each day of November
November 23, 2017
Leaves: Five Years Later #30BrighterDays
Holidays bring up all sorts of FEELINGS, and if you find yourself needing to dig deep before breaking down bread with your clusterfamilia® may I suggest a bit of an antidote – this post by my friend Vikki, China Gets Broken.
***
Five years ago I wrote my own Thanksgiving story, Leaves, about our dining room table and the complex family that surrounds it. Like Vikki shared about her own piece, I believe this is one of the more thoughtful things I’ve ever written. Today my extended family continues to shape-shift, but our own home table feels more seasoned and solid every year. The leaves continue to serve.
Wishing you full tables and warm hearts today. I’m beyond grateful for your readership. Thank you for brightening my view.
This post is part of #30BrighterDays; a thing I made up to brighten each day of November
November 22, 2017
Our helpers, our harmers #30BrighterDays
Last night I began Thanksgiving preparations. We will number 19 people tomorrow, and that means serious mashed potato poundage. I planned to have at the spuds alone for some deluded reason called habit, but I spontaneously enlisted my 13 year old to help me peel or chop–his choice. He grudgingly agreed, and I figured he’d peter out after one tater. It turned out he liked cutting the potatoes as a knife-wielding/geometry exercise. The work passed quickly and enjoyably?!? Later my 10 year old surprised me by “calling the mashing” as in I CALL THE MASHING. He did so extremely effectively, both by hand and with the mixer. Make no mistake about it, their helping made the task go twice as fast and many times over easier than had I shouldered it alone. I loved cooking side-by-side with my kids! Exactly like never in the past!
When raising little kids I relented/encouraged them to “help” by giving them small tasks, because I knew the importance of work to their development. The reality of littles helping manifests as cute if totally ineffective at best, and painstaking if chaotic disaster at worst. Maybe we call that antithesis harm; helpful disaster-prone toddler harm.
It’s one thing when, exasperated, you can set them up at the sink for their own “cooking” water play while you get the actual work done, and quite another the day you realize they need to leave the house knowing more recipes than “food coloring coffee grounds fusion” which can only happen if you teach them.
As my boys grow we try to remember to continue raising our expectations about what and how much they do around the house so they learn housekeeping and life skills, become aware of and contribute to our family labor, and hopefully launch from our home one day equipped to feed and care for themselves and contribute to their future dwellings and people.
With a 10 year old and a 13 year old much work remains for us to give over and teach them. I still do all the cooking and husband still does all the dishes, for instance. They do their own laundry, unload the dishwasher, set and clear the table, help with mowing and yard work, help put groceries away, and care for the cat. A clean-the-bathroom primer needs to happen yesterday. Some of this labor happens organically by them now, but coaxing and leveraging often enters the equation one get your wet towel off the bedroom floor, by one please get your dirty socks off the dining room table at a time.
The evergreen truth remains that often it’s much easier to do the work ourselves as parents (or even siblings, adult children or partners), rather than deal with the inevitable complaints and our inevitable nagging. This dynamic makes for a very effective parental disincentive to teach. Until! Until you cross the threshold into bonafide effective human helpers. Especially when the effectiveness miraculously coincides with pleasantness!
I serve as helper to my own parents this year by taking over Thanksgiving hosting duties. I helped myself by keeping expectations low with a casual buffet and humbly requesting our guests bring a dish to pass. Husband will help me by cleaning, making trips to the store, ignoring my numerous extra special party sighs, and fingers crossed not getting in the shower or “running out to guitar center really quick” 10 minutes before our guests arrive.
If your helpers–regardless of age– fall more into the harmful category this holiday, good on you, bless you, and I’m sorry. You’re doing the lord’s work and your future sends an emoji prayer hands and a thank you.
If despite your good intentions, you take over in one grand and sweeping holiday tantrum, you are right on schedule. Save a seat for me pal, I’m only a few more GET YOUR SOCCER BALL–OH FORGIVE ME I STAND CORRECTED EVERY TYPE OF ORB PROJECTILE OR.. WHIP? DOWN TO THE BASEMENT OR OUTSIDEs away.
If like– my grandmothers before me–you prefer everyone stay the hell out of the kitchen and let you become the gourmet Thanksgiving Czarina due your birthright? Have at it, I bow down to you for reals. P.S. your guests’ protestations are false. They love sitting at your table with nothing to do but enjoy your talents.
Here’s to helpers; may we find them, may we raise them, may we become them. In the mean time, Godspeed.
November 21, 2017
Just Greet Today #30BrighterDays
I used to wear a necklace with the word “downstream” stamped onto a pendant to remind me to go with the flow, and stop fighting imaginary currents. I say imaginary currents because I waste a disproportionate amount of time worrying and stressing about the future, as opposed to the actualities of my life that merit intervention.
Regardless of external or internal challenges, sometimes I can tell my brain to pull my legs up into my innertube and coast downstream on the lazy river of actual life happening on its own terms, and sometimes my legs keep kicking anyway, getting me nowhere but exhaustion.
Often I also need to change up my metaphors. A good metaphor can change the settings of my brain and my whole day. As I learn the same lessons over and over again every day of my very good life, the keys to unlocking uncomfortable habits or stuck patterns change periodically and I go in search of new metaphors or mantras.
Last night, I read from my favorite head-fixer Melody Beattie’s More Language of Letting Go about letting go of arrogance and receiving the blessings that humility brings. I decided to stop searching for the keys and simply try the door.
Oh. Guess what? It’s been open the whole time, and today waits for me. Okay so I’m tired and a little flu-ish, but I think I’ll go inside today and hang out. Think I’ll go hang my jacket in the closet and put on a cardigan and switch my loafers for sneakers like Mr. Rogers (then I should probably get dressed and go to my appointment, but that’s later today).
There. Weird. I feel better.
Instead of trying to figure out answers or look for solutions for things that probably don’t need fixing anyway, maybe just open the door and greet your actual today, with all its crooked lines and off-color confetti.
This post is part of #30BrighterDays; a thing I made up to brighten each day of November
