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  • My favorite season is the one I’m in.

    Daily writing prompt
    What is your favorite season of year? Why?

    So, right now, that means spring is my favorite season. In Maryland it already feels a bit more like summer, hot and humid, the constant threat of thunderstorms, even though we are still ten days or so away from the summer solstice. The minutes of sunlight are still piling up on each side of the day. School is still in session, but the community pools are open. It would be easy for me to get caught up in either looking forward towards summer break or backwards to the cooler days of spring during this time of transition. But I’m putting a great deal of effort into being in the season I’m in — weatherwise and otherwise.

    I learned a lesson about this just yesterday in my guitar lesson. I’ve been working the same piece of music for a while now — maybe as long as two or three months? — I’m not really sure. In any case, it’s been a challenging piece and the last few lessons, my teacher has worked with me with the same few trouble spots for a few weeks now. At the end of the lesson, she’s sent me off with some thoughts on how to work on those few measures. So at each practice, I will follow her suggestions and work on those few measures, practicing them over and over. And there certainly has been some improvement.

    And yesterday she called me out. “You’ve been working on these other parts of the piece, haven’t you?” indicating the lines and measures that we hadn’t started working on during my lessons yet.

    I laughed and wondered, “How did she know?

    I confessed that I had been. She also teaches my daughter and she told me that I’m just like her. There’s probably some truth to that. But when I talked to my daughter about it, she said that she has some favorite parts to pieces of music that she just really enjoys playing and so she plays those parts over and over.

    That’s not what’s going on for me.

    As I explained to my guitar teacher, I have it in my head that there’s some sort of deadline or like a “test” at the end and I start to get worried that I’m not going to have covered or practiced that part of the piece.

    I know. There is no deadline. And that’s also exactly what I said to my teacher. “You’re type A,” she said.

    We both had a bit of a laugh over the whole thing. The whole thing forced to me to examine and articulate some of these ridiculous thoughts and ideas that underlie how I’ve been approaching practicing guitar. And it also made me realize that I present as a Type A personality. And I realize that this is a survival/ defense mechanism that I built up in school and probably in life in general. It’s that I always feel like if I’m not three steps ahead, then I’m three steps behind and slipping even faster.

    But in my heart of hearts, that’s not who I really am. It’s just how I’ve been presenting myself. It’s a coping strategy. I practiced those other sections of the music because I was worried I’d somehow be called upon to know the whole piece and I wouldn’t be prepared.

    All of this for an activity that I’m partaking in supposedly “for fun.”

    In the meantime, the few measures that my teacher suggested I practice aren’t really getting that much better. And the whole thing isn’t really that much fun. Or, at least, it’s definitely not as much fun as it could be if I just trusted the process. Just focus on the parts that my teacher told me to. No need to be a super student, to know the whole thing ahead of the class (by the way, there is no class, these are private lessons). I’ve been cramming all of the music into each week, each practice. And in this way of thinking, I’ve ended up not really knowing any of the music that well. I haven’t been giving each line, each measure, each note its space and time.

    I’d like to be able to tell you that since this lesson and commensurate change in attitude, I’ve picked up the guitar and the whole thing has come together. That’s not true. This isn’t some neat little lesson with a change of attitude and a happy reward at the end. In fact, I haven’t even picked up the guitar since yesterday’s lesson. In part because that’s part of the lesson too. I’m doing all of this for fun so I don’t need to practice just to “prove” something to myself. And I also don’t need to “over practice”. I practice once a day for thirty to forty-five minutes. When I’m done, I’m done, I move on to something else. I don’t fixate and obsess and try to perfect it all.

    So what does this have to do with my favorite season?

    Like I said, my favorite season is the one I’m in. And being able to say that means that I don’t spend a lot of time looking forwards or looking backwards at the other seasons, which will inevitably come in their due time. Just as those other parts of the music will get their due focus and attention in their time. In the meantime, I’ll just live in the moment, the season, the measure, the notes I’m in.

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    It’s Wednesday, which means that I’m going to include a brief summary of what I’ve been blogging about in this past week.

    Let’s begin with last Thursday where I answered the prompt about my dream chocolate bar, which ended up being an impossible one because what’s the point of dreaming if it doesn’t transcend reality?

    Friday was my shortest post yet about why I wouldn’t change my name.

    Next up, I revealed who I spend most of my time with. (MY answer was unsurprising.)

    I wrote about what I need to live a good life. And, again, not a surprising answer.

    My tagline in a list poem: Rhena, more than this poem.

    Lastly, yesterday I wrote about what luxury I couldn’t live without.

    A bit of silence. And then a discussion of why I shouldn’t actually feel awkward about speaking aloud by myself.

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    If you enjoyed what you’ve read here, please check out other posts. Likes, shares, and reposts help get my writing out to where it needs to be. I’m also grateful for financial support. Even though I post daily, I only send out a once a week summary email to subscribers. Thank you!

  • Clean, running water.

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s the one luxury you can’t live without?

    I take it for granted too often that I can just walk into my kitchen (or one of the two bathrooms that are mere feet away) and drink water straight from the tap. But I would be well served to consider this the miracle that it is every time I get a drink, wash my hands, use the toilet or take a shower or bath. Oh, and wash my clothes (sheets/ towels/ etc…) in the machine that I have literally right downstairs in my basement. Just this past weekend, I gave my dog a bath (shower, really, as my daughter pointed out while she was cleaning him with me) using one of the two hoses connected to our house. How is this possible? If I lost this access to potable water in my own home, I would not survive.

    When I was much younger, I did live for a brief period of time without indoor plumbing. The water had to be boiled (or bought) in order to drink it. And I suppose that all of that just becomes a part of the routine of daily life: taking bucket baths, carrying water from the well or tank (or asking someone to do it for me which is more likely what I did), remembering to stock up on potable water or to boil it. But all of that is, well, it’s a lot. And I was younger then and more adaptable. I’m probably softer now. Yeah. Definitely softer.

    And so: I’m left with trying to not take what I have for granted.

  • Rhena, more than this poem.

    Daily writing prompt
    If humans had taglines, what would yours be?

    Rhena, human being being human.

    Rhena, no-one’s burden, no one’s savior.

    Rhena, good to the last drop.

    Rhena, me, myself, and I.

    Just Rhena it.

    Rhena, returning to myself.

    Rhena, creator, survivor, learner, lucid dreamer.

    Rhena, Queen.

    Rhena never goes out of style.

    Rhena, minding my own business.

    Have it the Rhena way.

    Rhena, I am here, like a good Rhena.

    Rhena, being strange.

    The slowest picker upper, Rhena.

    A Rhena is forever.

    Think Rhena.

    Rhena is it.

    The Rhena-est place on Earth.

    Because Rhena is worth it.

    Rhena gives me wings.

    Rhena, I’m doing my very best.

    The ultimate Rhena machine.

    I’m in Rhena’s hands.

    Rhena runs on Rhena.

    The best a Rhena can get.

    Rhena, I can hear me now.

    Rhena, always suffering.

    Rhena, believer.

    Rhena, more than a tag line.

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    If you enjoyed what you’ve read here, please check out other posts. Likes, shares, and reposts help get my writing out to where it needs to be. I’m also grateful for financial support. Even though I post daily, I only send out a once a week summary email to subscribers. Thank you!

  • Good is God (all the time) and YHWH is breath.

    Daily writing prompt
    What are the most important things needed to live a good life?

    A good life is a series of good moments, one after the other, strung together like pearls on a necklace. What makes a moment “good”?

    Being present to myself is a decent starting place to a good moment.

    Is it only good moments that are worthy of a spot on this necklace of life? Or, when I look back on each moment, will some shimmer more brightly than others? Can I consider the dull and tarnished moments as “good” as the others? Yes, I can.

    Because in all of those moments — even the dull, mistake-riddled ones — I was myself.

    Being present to this moment, to myself in this moment, means not looking back at the previous moments with self judgement — not weighing out and judging one as being “good” and another as being “bad.” Those moments existed. And I existed in those moments. That is enough.

    I this moment, I am sitting at my computer, attempting to answer this question. When my mind wanders off in flights of fancy, I pull it back to my breath.

    My breath is always with me. As long as I’m alive. And so I can always return to it. A good breath is any breath at all because it means that I’m alive. A breath is a moment. And a breath is the sound YHWH, which means that “I am” is on every breath. And that means that God is on every breath. And God and good are really the same words. And all breaths are good and therefore all moments are good moments. And a good life is just a series of good moments strung together like pearls on a necklace. And so it is that this is a good life. And so it is that the breath is the most important thing needed to live a good life. Breathe.

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    If you enjoyed what you’ve read here, please check out other posts. Likes, shares, and reposts help get my writing out to where it needs to be. I’m also grateful for financial support. Even though I post daily, I only send out a once a week summary email to subscribers. Thank you!

  • I spend most of my time with the person who knows me best…myself!

    Daily writing prompt
    Who do you spend the most time with?

    And I enjoy the time that I spend with myself, which is great because I’m always with myself. And I’m always learning new things about myself. I’m my own best companion because I have my best interest in mind at all times. I enjoy checking in with myself, validating my own thoughts, feelings, and experiences, fulfilling my own needs, learning from myself. No one else could possibly be as interested in myself as I am. I never ghost myself. I always try to put myself first, to center myself. I trust myself.

  • My name is my own.

    Daily writing prompt
    If you had to change your name, what would your new name be?

    With a name as awesome as mine, I’d rather be named “_____” than to change it.

  • The impossible chocolate bar.

    Daily writing prompt
    Describe your dream chocolate bar.

    I am a study in contrasts. Or perhaps extremes is the word I mean.

    I enjoy an Aero bar. Which is a bit confounding as it’s the pockets of air — the absence of chocolate — that make it appealing to me. Or perhaps it’s the combination of that which is there and that which is not that makes it unique.

    Or that here, in the States, it’s hard to come by British candy bars. Perhaps it’s that the Aero bar is a treat here in the land of Hershey and Mars.

    Certainly, my other favorite chocolate (are we meant to just describe one?) is the chocolates that I’ve only had from Narita Airport. And these Royce chocolates aren’t airy at all. They are dense and rich and I can’t really eat more than one or two in a sitting. OK, who am I kidding? I could eat an entire box but I restrain myself because I know it won’t be until another trip through Japan that I’ll be able to enjoy them again. (Needless to say, these chocolates, are, like most things these days readily available on-line, but I choose to ignore this ready availability. Convenience kills flavor and my enjoyment. This is about the dream chocolate bar and I prefer to live in the fantasy.) They are a velvety smooth ganache. Simple and elegant.

    They are, in other words, at the other end of the spectrum from the Aero bar.

    Would it be possible to combine these two into one chocolate bar? The pockets of air with the heavy denseness of the Royce chocolates? Perhaps.

    Or perhaps the idea behind a dream is that it is imagining the impossible. Perhaps having conceived of the idea of the dream chocolate bar is as good as having experienced it.

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    If you enjoyed what you’ve read here, please check out other posts. Likes, shares, and reposts help get my writing out to where it needs to be. I’m also grateful for financial support. Even though I post daily, I only send out a once a week summary email to subscribers. Thank you!

  • No. I do not remember my favorite childhood book.

    Daily writing prompt
    Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?

    I do remember reading books. And I do remember specific books. I do remember the smooth crisp pages of, for example, Goodnight Moon. I remember sitting on the edge of the bathtub within a hand’s reach of a roll of toilet paper as I cried through certain pages of Where the Red Fern Grows (if you know, you know). And it was at a rental beach house where I similarly cried over Bridge to Terabethia. I can remember the school librarian’s particular way of turning the pages on picture books and the resonance in my dad’s chest as he read to me on the green chair in the living room. I know that it was The Trumpet of the Swan that one of my grade school teachers was reading to us when we got to go outside to listen to the story on one of the first suitable days of spring. But, for the love of me, I cannot remember the plot of the book at all. I know that I pictured the bathroom in the house I grew up in next to in the part of Stuart Little when Stuart retrieves his mother’s wedding ring.

    I’m fairly certain that it was reading Stuart Little that set me off on reading The Rescuers and The Borrowers. There’s just something about tiny creatures repurposing small household items for their own purposes. I’m sure it was that particular appeal of tiny objects that made The Toy Shop Mystery and The Doll House Mystery also enchanting.

    Apparently, EB White was quite popular because I definitely remember reading Charlotte’s Web. Although I think that I really only remember the details of the plot now because I’ve read it aloud to my children as an adult.

    But I don’t remember one in particular book as my favorite. It’s all just as well. It’s the way I truly do not have a favorite child.

    As is made apparent in yesterday’s blog post, (which was in response to the prompt to name three books which had an impact on me) I’m more widely read now that I’m an adult.

    Over the past week, I also wrote about jobs that I’ve had (Would a job by any other name smell just as sweet?) and how I unplug (from said jobs or from the internet?).

    The other three posts from this past week are quite short, but writing them spurred some breakthroughs for me about myself, life, mental health, and how to think about certain struggles.

    The first makes the case for centering myself, loving myself, and being my own best friend.

    The second is about the joy that arises when I trust my future self.

    Lastly, I thought about fear which, as an anxious person, is quite a feat in and of itself. But in the writing, I discovered a personal hack for cutting fear off at the knees in Starve Fear, Feed Joy.

    A one minute audio blog of a native English speaker, spontaneous, unplanned, and bare bones.

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    If you enjoyed what you’ve read here, please check out other posts. Likes, shares, and reposts help get my writing out to where it needs to be. I’m also grateful for financial support. Even though I post daily, I only send out a once a week summary email like this one to subscribers. Thank you!

  • Three …er… Seven Books

    Daily writing prompt
    List three books that have had an impact on you. Why?

    I’m sitting here trying to narrow it down to three books. Because after all, what book that I’ve read hasn’t had an impact on me one way or the other? Isn’t that the point of reading? To be changed by it?

    I’m also sitting here thinking about choosing three books that will make me look cool, or smart, or “in the know”.

    And then I’m thinking about the three books I’m currently reading on paper, e-reading, and listening to.

    They are, in paper, Research is Ceremony: Indigenous Research Methods by Shawn Wilson. I always appreciate books that take apart the so-called accepted conventions of the academic world.

    On my e-reader: Where They Last Saw Her by Marcie Rendon. I’ve just started this, but Marcie Rendon is one of my favorite authors. Each time I’ve started a new book in her Cash Blackbear series, I feel as though I’m getting caught up with an old friend.

    And, finally, I’m listening to Babel: Or the Necessity of Violence. I’m just getting into this book. I’ve also been working more seriously on my language learning right now and this book is the perfect companion to this kind of work — providing motivation for putting in the time and effort to something that doesn’t necessarily feel immediately useful.

    Because certainly in this moment, those are the ones that have the greatest impact on me. Or perhaps it’s the last three that I completed?

    Which were, on my e-reader, the Dreamblood duo logy by NK Jemison. (This includes The Killing Moon and The Shadowed Sun.) I wrote about this book in a previous post about dreaming. I definitely will be re-reading these in hard copy form. I find reading books I can engage more deeply with the text than on an e-reader.

    In hardback book form: Where Rivers Part by Kao Kalia Yang. It’s a stunning memoir written in her mother’s voice. It made me a better parent and mother.

    This is from a few months back, but Audre Lorde’s The Cancer Journals really made an impact on me. Specifically, it helped me make sense of what it meant to be sick with breast cancer.

    OK. This is more than three books, but books happen to be something I’m excited about. Check out my early posts with more Book Recommendations. If I wrote about them, they impacted me in some way.

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    If you enjoyed what you’ve read here, please check out other posts. Likes, shares, and reposts help get my writing out to where it needs to be. I’m also grateful for financial support. Even though I post daily, I only send out a once a week summary email to subscribers. Thank you!

  • Starve Fear. Feed Joy. (A story/ prose poem sort of a thing.)

    Daily writing prompt
    What fears have you overcome and how?

    Fear is a hungry beast. I find it’s overly easy to feed its gaping maw. What do I mean by that? I mean that the society and culture that I live within is a veritable buffet of delights for fear to endlessly consume. Fear, in its turn, has a bottomless stomach and is always ready to grab a clean plate and begin its trip through the hot bar. And the cold one too.

    I’ll feed it unnecessary purchases of bits and bobs I’ve seen advertised as being able to make me happier, prettier, younger, even wealthier. Fear will consume them all. And I? No happier, no prettier, no younger and perhaps a little bit poorer. And still Fear’s belly rumbles with hunger, demanding ever more time, attention, quick fixes, superficial dalliances into this and that. “You’re missing out,” he whispers into my jewel-laden ear. And I succumb. And still he devours more.

    Fear holds my attention with its adrenaline and thrills, its glitter and shine, its shadows and mirrors. Caught up in the echantment of his own illusions, he pulls back a curtain to reveal his greatest weapon: death.

    But, alas, Fear has overplayed his hand. For Death reminds us, “I’ll meet all of you regardless of how you spend your time. You’d do just as well to invite Fear into your heart as you would with his twin, Joy. It’s all the same to me.”

    And so I pass Joy a clean plate from the buffet of earthly delights: a long stretch, a deep breath, the breeze shifting the juniper branches, a sip of clean water. And together we eat our fill. And then some.

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    If you enjoyed what you’ve read here, please check out other posts. Likes, shares, and reposts help get my writing out to where it needs to be. I’m also grateful for financial support. Even though I post daily, I only send out a once a week summary email to subscribers. Thank you!