Imperfection, Inherent Self-Worth, Self-Care, Shame


The last couple days I’ve been learning a bit about transitions. Once I’m in a rhythm and working, the work is easy. Moving from one project to another is often difficult. There are lots of reasons for this.

Today, and for the last few days, one of those reasons is simply that “The Fearless Challenge,” last week required a lot of energy and focus. In short, I’ve been tired.  

Also, shifting projects and shifting focus requires energy. Any move I make that isn’t straight ahead slows me down. It’s like turning a corner to juke an opponent on the basketball court, or football field. 

When I complete a project I it’s natural to pause as well. It’s same way an athlete will usually pause after scoring a goal or making a basket, things slow down for a moment as well.  

So here I am, mid-turn on Wednesday morning, typing out a blog which would “normally” be published already and there’s a part of me feels; “I should be doing better.”  

I’m aiming to go the other way.  I’m aiming to embrace where I am and keep moving forward.  

I started working on this half-finished illustration yesterday.  A beaver in a hammock above the dam it has completed. Looking back on what I just wrote, there’s a nice meta-synergy between the illustration and the words. I also realize I’ve been sort of aiming to rest and turn a corner at the same time. Which doesn’t quiet work, does it?  

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Fearless Challenge, Songwriting, The Song Well

Tunesday: Hard to Forgive

Last week was the Fearless Songwriting Challenge (to write seven songs in seven days). This was the final song of the week:

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Bitter like a burnt caramel
Funny like a broke down carousel
Grinding round and round
With no ups or down
Like the gears in a jail cell

The dark river of our time
Runs course like a clothes line
Winding round a wheel
An electric eel
Swimming ‘neath our smile line

It’s so hard to forgive
We don’t want to relive
All pain we’ve caused
So we speak in cursive

There’s no rhyme for caffeine
Like why were you so mean . . . to me?
The conversation is closed
like a punch to the nose
Friendship curdled like cream

Blistered burned on our tongues
Looks that burn like a rug
The space between hooks and bait
Say I’m willing to wait
For a hellfrost to come

It’s so hard to forgive
It’s so hard to forgive
All pain we’ve caused
So we speak in cursive

Words that loop into lines
Turn ink dark like a crime
Burn a candle at night
That you’ll give up your fight

It’s so hard to forgive
It’s so hard to forgive
All pain we’ve caused
It’s so hard to forgive

Boundaries, Inherent Self-Worth, Practice, Self-Care

Struggling with Quiet

As I’m writing this, it’s a quiet Sunday morning. Out my kitchen window I can watch the wind twiddle the leaves of a tree in my neighbors yard. I find quiet to be difficult to sit with, to enjoy. There are so many opportunities for noise, for filling my time with busyness.  

Today, after writing seven songs in seven days and launching a new forum to support the Fearless Songwriting community, I aim to enjoy, (or rather struggle) with the quiet, let myself be a bit bored—a little like a toddler struggling to avoid a nap.  


Doodling with Words

I’ve read that doodling helps many people think better. Maybe it’s the kind of repetitive activity like washing dishes that lulls a persons judging brain to sleep.   

In doodling, single line could become a flower stem, or part of a ladder, or maybe a bemused smile like the Mona Lisa’s. The stakes low for doodling and the possibilities are nearly endless. Even a person who thinks they are at art might allow themselves to make swirly spirals in the margins of their paper.   

Which makes me wonder, couldn’t a person doodle with words in a similar way. Just start writing words like doodling loop the loops on a page. Both activities merely require a person to start moving their pen or pencil on the paper.  

[I end most blog posts with a fun drawing. This week I’ll posting a little musical sketch from “The Fearless Songwriting Challenge,” I host. To find out more join the email list below!]

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Like the wounded wielding swords
Like the sun rising up side down
When the ocean tip toes in a rain drop
The rain drops is going to drown

Like singing a song with the swans
Like telling the charcoal to stop
When the beggar is begged out business
the penny is going to drop

Too Soon
Last fall
The while clouds are drifting downwards
St Peter is calling for Paul

Like footprints falling in the snow
Like a parasol caught in the rain
When a parachutes swung by it’s ripcord
The ground will embrace the plane

Too soon
Last fall
The white clouds are drifting downwards
Unready for the call

Like dreams that don’t come to pass
Like autumn wrapped up in a shawl
When the basinet bows to the bough break
The hammer is going to fall

Too soon
Last fall
The white clouds are drifting downward
to catch me when they call