by Theresa Garee | Sep 15, 2018 | Blog
Some days, days like today, when the new computer is unsatisfactory and needs to be returned, the old computer is on the fritz (which is why you bought the new computer), but the new computer has not yet been returned and the even newer computer has not yet arrived, the roof is leaking and must be replaced, and the air conditioner, while new, needs to be paid for, you only need to look out at the adorable pupperina to know that everything is right with the world if you just stay in the moment. A dog. That is all.
by Theresa Garee | Jan 4, 2015 | Blog
“Let us not look back in anger, nor forward in fear, but around in awareness.” – James Thurber
I have a vivid imagination. Unfortunately it lists toward the negative. If my mind drifts too far into the future, it projects tons of excruciating work followed by showers of rejection letters not to mention the death of all my family members, friends, and the dog. Some people can project a future filled with success. My mind won’t play that game.
The past is no better. There I relive regret for work I’ve failed to complete, anger at imagined slights, and pain over the actual deaths of family members, friends, and our former dogs. Days gone by offer no solace.
Meditation helps me stay in the moment. Each breath brings relief from the relentless barrage of thoughts pushing to and fro. And after sitting there is nothing to do, but open the notebook and get to work. Work is the best remedy.
Only the present is safe. In the actual work I find peace. I relax into writing, taking tiny steps one after another. There my mind hums.
by Theresa Garee | Jun 3, 2013 | Blog
“There are no standards and no possible victories except the joy you are living while dancing your run. You are not running for some future reward – the real reward is now!” – Fred Rohe, The Zen of Running
When I run, and especially when I race, I’m able to stay in the moment. I just finished the San Diego Rock n’ Roll Half Marathon. A line of women all dressed like Marilyn Monroe left me laughing for a good mile. The funky houses and friendly neighbors in University Heights kept me alert and awake for several more miles. The sight of runners dressed like Elvis, wearing tutus, or dolled up in other costumes helped me keep my head right where my feet were for more miles after that.
When there were no interesting distractions, I made the physical sensation of running my companion. I observed the rhythmic movement of arms and legs. I felt my heart beating. I focused on my breath as it flowed in and out. All of these things kept me rapt for 13.1 miles over several hours. There was no future and no past. There was only now.
I know that there are standards and victories in writing, but still I wish I could adopt the attitude of having no future reward every time I face the page. So often my mind turns to the future. I wonder if what I’m writing will interest anyone else or if I’m simply writing for my own purposes. I wonder if it’s marketable. I wonder if it’s boring. I wonder, I wonder, I wonder.
All this wondering is simply my inner critic taking me for a ride. It is not helpful to me or the writing and it is not kind. Rather, it is painful. The inner critic thinks it is being helpful by preventing me from making mistakes. The problem is, when the critic is so strong, merely facing the page becomes a huge challenge. Finishing anything turns into a monumental task.
The key, I believe, is to be fully present to the writing as I’m doing it. Not only do I lose myself in the work, but I take pleasure in the physical sensations whether it is my fingers on a pen or on a keyboard. I alternate between a sitting desk and one for standing which helps keep me alert and reduces pain. And when the words take over, I lose myself for long periods of time in the consciousness of the page.
In my experience, publication alone doesn’t bring the huge rewards one might think. The huge rush of seeing my first magazine article on the cover of Dog World Magazine lasted only a few days. It was a momentary high I’m glad I experienced, but neither it nor my other publication credits could carry me for the long run.
Rather, the writing itself delivers the pleasure. If not, I wouldn’t write at all. And this brings me back to the moment. I must continue to find ways to enjoy writing in the moment. Even a bad day writing, a day when I put in the proverbial comma in the morning only to take it out in the afternoon, is better than a day not writing at all.
