One Little Word - action

 This is the first word that popped in my head when I read the One Little Word posts at the Two Writing Teachers site. I pushed it aside and started to reflect on others - kind, brave, positive. But action kept resurfacing. So, this is my focus word for 2017.

The One Little Word (OLW) is a strategy to focus your year without creating a long list of resolutions. The process of refining my goals to one focus word has helped me to better understand what I want from this new year, the kind of life I want to live. 

Not going to lie, I feel like phrasing my word as a noun instead of a verb sounds a little contradictory. Shouldn't my word be ACT? But as I think about the actions I want to take, it feels right. These actions include writing, reading, and participating and the guiding word "action" puts me in mind of putting myself in front of others. So, I frequently write but rarely write out loud to engage in a wider community. I read all the time but what do I do with that knowledge? Maybe participate is really my word since what I want to do is engage with the world. But participation is not as inspiring as action. Action implies that I am in control of my work; participation requires me to subvert myself to the group. 

I have a lovely Pinterest-worthy image of decorated words posted around my life to help keep me focused. And I’ll probably Zentangle at least one word to hang in my classroom, maybe even design a sticker for my laptop. Truthfully, adding art into my days is a part of the action I’ve been thinking about so taking the time to doodle and paint fits right in with the goal. But what I’m excited about is that for the 2^nd day in a row I’ve taken the time to write in my journal, write for posting, and read something that challenges me to action.

Let the year of action begin.

Happy New Year

I remember being told once that what you do on New Year’s Day is indicative of what you will be doing in that year. It makes sense since what you choose to do with a day off can certainly show your priorities. But we all know that we often subvert our personal priorities for obligation and perceived responsibility. Days off are days off. They take us out of our routine and give us a vacation from responsibility. I think I’m spending this New Year’s much as I’ve spent the past several, but it is not necessarily how I’ve spent my years.

I woke early this morning, before anyone else in the house, got the coffee started and settled into the couch with some light reading. I noticed a Goodreads invitation to submit my 2017 reading challenge and so took half a minute to think about what might be reasonable and then typed in 50 even though it's not. True, I read 51 books this past year – not hard because half of them were student fiction – but this year I’m hoping to sign up for a post graduate program and won’t have the same kind of pleasure reading time that I had last year. Then I think about how much time I spend trolling through Facebook and playing mindless games and reading frustrating blog posts and remember that 50 books is well within my means.

Let’s stop that train of thought though because if what you are doing on New Year’s is what you’ll be doing through the year then I know I want to do a lot less self-flagellation and a lot more energized action.

So here's what I want to continue doing after this morning. Reading, being close to my husband, planning for a better world. And what the picture can't show is the action taken because I will give myself time to refresh.

a new book

fiddling with the end of her braid
slight smile
quick flip of the page
A new book.

(Found this poem while cleaning up some old notebooks. Thought I'd try to push myself to take more poetry breaks.)

water and mind

I walk to exercise my body and to clear my mind. Were I to list out all the things to be thankful for, that my neighborhood walk brings me past this lake would be high up on it.

The sky around this lake holds the most amazing light. The water is tranquilly still or chaotically wind-blown, seeming to mirror my emotions, or acting on them.

Today, as I walk, I am thankful.

acting through mourning

I have given myself some time to mourn. Knowing the nature of grief and the cyclical nature of mourning, I know I am not through, may never be through, mourning this loss of faith in my country, I am, nevertheless, ready to begin action.

The leaders I admire most have acted for good in the midst of so much bad; they attempt to embody the world they want to see and so nudge - or drag - the world along with them.

I see a world that acts like a family, sitting together in a feast of Thanksgiving to honor the gifts of this world even though we disagree on how to use those gifts. A world that respects the rights of each member to live happily, even while we advocate for a different way. I want to be in a family that listens to each other with an ear for understanding, not waiting for a foible to pounce on.

And so, that is my first action.

who's road is it?

On my walk the other day I stepped over this sidewalk scribble, not quite finished. Perhaps the graphic artist was called in for lunch or nap time. The words filled the road at an intersection in the back of the neighborhood, almost at the end of a dead end, where the right turn leads to a gravel road. You would think this spot hardly needed a reminder for people to obey the rule to stop at an intersection. But these kids thought it did. 

That right turn leads to a popular public beach on the edge of our little lake, beside which is a fabulously accessible playground. It's also the route to the outside world for people who live in the little houses along these black roads. So, despite the many wobbly kids on bikes, baby carriages, dogs at the end of leashes, and gangs of oblivious teenagers in the middle of the road, people take this corner as if there is nothing in their way. But three out of the four houses on this corner are packed full of young kids, ranging in age from toddler to tween, who use the road, as kids are meant to, as their kickball field and skateboard park, to sell lemonade and create art.

This is their road. They can claim ownership more than any of us taxpaying visitors. And they need us to stop.

differences of remembrance

At the end of a story remembering a scene from childhood, the author says that her father, now long dead, doesn't care how she remembers him. And I gasped. Doesn't he? Do you really think that?
And then, catching my breath, I agreed. Of course he doesn't. I don't really think that my Dad knows how I'm remembering him - well, maybe I sort of do but the point it, that's not what upsets me about memories of my parents. What upsets me is hearing how others remember them. When their memories don't match mine I'm riled, defensive. Not the details - we remember different details, experienced from different perspectives - but the tone, the "Dad would"s or the "Mom would never"s. 
Um. Wrong. Your memory is wrong. Your opinions of these people I loved, love, so dearly is wrong. 
And I can't change my mind about this. 
I feel bad for my sister who has a completely warped picture of my Dad. She's missing out on the more tolerant, forgiving, accepting father of my reality. But I'm also, let's be clear, pretty pissed at her for her claims that my father, my father, would agree with her intolerant rants. My Dad could disagree with your politics and still respect that you came to your conclusions the same way he did, through thoughtful reflection. My Dad loved my pro-choice, pro-equality, pro-environment self even as he cast a vote for representatives who were anti all of those things.
Maybe Dad doesn't care anymore about how we remember him, but I care how he is remembered.