Category Archives: Bandwagons

Turning inward

I half-heartedly thought about joining author Patti Digh’s Project 137 for a few weeks when I first heard about it. It’s an online class of sorts, designed to help its participants “to be more mindful, to clear ground, and simplify, and do all the things we put off but need doing.” I could use help in all of those categories, but I put it off and put it off and then it was full. And so, I thought, that decision had finally been made for me.

Then about a week after the project kicked off, Patti opened it up for a few more participants. This time I didn’t think about it. I signed up. I was already a few days behind, since I’d registered late, so I wouldn’t be finishing on December 31st as intended. But I forged ahead anyway, and the first few days were fun. The assignments were things like Make a List of People You Love and then, a few days later, Write One of Those People a Letter & Tell Them How You Feel. I like writing, and I love making people feel good. So it was all rainbows and puppies for a few days.

Then I came to the assignment that knocked me down: Write a love letter to yourself.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but just trying to make a list of things I like about myself left me kind of emotionally shell-shocked for the better part of an afternoon. My self-esteem is not so great, I knew, but I was surprised at how hard that exercise was and at how deeply it affected me. I didn’t realize, I guess, that I didn’t even want to think about myself. (Let that not be confused with not being selfish. That’s another barrel of beans altogether.) And now I had to write a full-blown mushy-gushy letter detailing the things I love about myself. I let the assignment slide for six days, doing my best not to let it skitter past the far outreaches of my mind.

And then one day I did it. I got out my pen and my composition notebook, and I wrote myself a letter. I’m not sure I really hit the mark as far as writing a love letter goes — it isn’t terribly mushy — but I think it was a pretty nice pep talk, at least. I’m supposed to give it to someone and have them mail it to me before the end of the year, but so far it’s just sitting in my office/closet. But wrote it, and it didn’t leave me in tatters.

That’s progress, I think. Maybe by the end of this I’ll be able to rattle off things I love about myself with zero hesitation.

What about you? What do you love about yourself, and is it easy for you to pinpoint those things?

On losing and the perpetual menu machine

Well, my silly sestina didn’t win BlogHer’s contest. You can pop over there to read their top pick. They’re taking on the villanelle in the next BlogHer poetry contest. Dylan Thomas’ “Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night” is probably the most well-known villanelle, but Theodore Roethke wrote my very favorite example of the form.

THE WAKING
by Theodore Roethke

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

Theodore Roethke, “The Waking” from Collected Poems of Theodore Roethke. Copyright 1953 by Theodore Roethke.

“This shaking keeps me steady.” That just slays me. And I still haven’t been to the Roethke house. Anyway, villanelles look less complicated than sestinas, I think, but I’ll bet they’re harder to write. I’ll tell you what I will try my hand at, though: Dinner. Here’s what we’re having this week.

Monday: Fajitas

We used to have fajitas pretty frequently, and then we didn’t. I don’t know what happened, but I’m glad they’re back.

Tuesday: Crockpot Orange Chicken

Is this the week we finally eat this? I’ve had it on the menu for at least two weeks now.

Wednesday: Honey-ginger beef stir-fry

Sometimes I make my own stir-fry sauce. This will not be one of those days. I bought a bottled sauce, and I want it to be delicious.

Thursday: Burgers

I know I’ll spend Thursday evening wanting to buy a Big Green Egg. Our grill is falling apart.

Friday: Pizza

The movie where everybody calls Mr. Potter “Grandpa”

I forgot to cancel my Amazon Prime free trial, so now I have Amazon Prime for the year. Turns out they have movies! That I can watch! For free! On my computer! So I went searched for all of the remaining movies on my Best Picture list and found that eight of them are free for Amazon Prime members.

This afternoon while the kids were down for Quiet Time, I fired up “You Can’t Take it With You,” the 1938 Best Picture winner. And I watched an hour of it, then turned it off. And later the kids wanted to watch some TV so I set them up downstairs and watched some more of it. And then when the kids were done with their shows they came up and watched the end of it with me, and Poppy wanted to know why there were so many grandpas in the basement. (Which would entirely make sense if you’d seen the movie, which is heavily peppered with white-haired men.)

The movie was directed by Frank Capra and starred Jimmy Stewart (my favorite) and Lionel Barrymore. Here’s the Amazon synopsis:

Lionel Barrymore is the eccentric patriarch of a clan of frustrated artists who decided 30 years earlier to retire from the rat race and use his fortune to encourage friends and family to pursue vocations that really interest them. At the center of his family is his granddaughter, Jean Arthur, who is carrying on a romance with her boss’ son, James Stewart.

It was like a not-as-good version of “It’s a Wonderful Life” featuring a whole houseful of Uncle Billies.