Category: Creativity

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Do You See the Door?

It’s right there. Behind that tree. In the shadow of the curtain in the room where you sleep. In your dreams, glowing with golden light.

Since I learned to meditate, new information presents itself as a door to be opened. Or ignored. In the world of spirit, there is always choice.

I made my choice long ago, so I open every door that beckons. Sometimes after reflection. Sometimes with trepidation, for once opened, there is no going back.

Doors lead me forward—to repair a misunderstanding, to an old belief that needs releasing, or a different level of awareness. Some doors are an invitation to explore my relationship to the inner world from which all creativity springs. Behind others lurk the characters and worlds that populate my stories.

I needed to slow down my thoughts before I developed a habit of regularly producing creative work. That meant taking time to sit at my desk and tune into the frequency of my Creative Self. Some people can write a chapter of the novel on a commuter train or on their lunch hour. I applaud them. They must be very productive. But I need more space.

If you hear the call but can’t find the door, be patient. You may need to quiet your mind. Your body must partner with your mind and feelings for ideas and visions to be translated into words and brush strokes. This takes practice. Sit in silence. Spend time in nature. Watch the grass grow. Listen to the leaves of cottonwood trees chattering to each other. The inner world works on a slower time cycle than our ordinary outer world. Rhythms need to be respected. Telling it to hurry doesn’t work.

Some doors are shy but they want to be discovered. Yours may hide behind a cluster of ivy. Or on the far side of a sagging wooden fence. An image flashes on the edge of your vision, so beautiful you turn, heart lifting, but when you do, it’s gone. Maybe you turned too quickly. Maybe it melted back behind the veil.

If you see it in the heat of the day as you trudge through a desert, your mind might dismiss it as a mirage, but in your heart, you know it’s real. You know it’s waiting. For the time to be right. For you to be ready.

It knows you well. It knows you may need to gather courage before you walk toward it. You may need to stop the noise of the outer world before you notice its shape, its color. To see that it pulses with excitement at your approach.

But, you may say, not yet. I’m busy with work, family, and the pressing tasks of daily living. How can I open a door that leads to who knows where? What if it takes me to places I’m not ready for? What if I get lost? What if walking through it changes me?

Relax.

Stop and breathe.

You can turn away. The door understands. As you retreat, the rhythm of its pulsing may slow, but it will never stop. The door will never disappear and it will never fail to welcome you.

Even if you wait until you are old and tired and finally face the door because there’s nothing else left to do.

Even if you wait longer than that.

You know what to do.

You were born knowing. Rattle it gently. Give it a push. And when you see, with amazement and delight, what lies beyond, be still and listen for the voice that holds the treasure.

 

When Spirit Whispers

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Listen! Something is Stirring!

It wants your attention. It wants to be free. Have you heard it whisper?

You know what it is. It dances through your dreams. It causes you to be late because you’re mesmerized by a cloud formation that looks exactly like the city in a story you want to write. In a rare moment of silence, it says, Come, follow me, I have a story only you can tell. An image only you can paint.

It offers impractical ideas, suggesting you compose a poem or a symphony. A ludicrous idea. After all, you’re a busy person. Who has the time for frivolities? Ridiculous. But, is it?

The call of the Creative Self is real. It means that something inside you wants to be born into the world of time and the light of day.

The seeds of inspiration reside within us. Often just beneath the level of awareness. It takes a receptive attitude to invite those seeds into our lives so we can shape them by creative acts into a poem, a story, a drawing, a clay pot.

Children have unfettered access to the messages of their Creative Self. They draw on walls, paint on their toes, and sing at the top of their small lungs, simply for the joy of it.

As we grow, we learn what pleases our parents, teachers, and friends. We want to fit in, to be loved and praised, so we learn to follow the rules. We don’t fingerpaint when we’re supposed to be studying. We don’t eat dessert before the meal. We don’t spend nearly as much time watching clouds drift by.

Even though we learn to ignore its subversive messages, the Creative Self does not disappear. It is always waiting.

When it makes itself known, it can burst out like thunder, impossible to ignore. Or it may whisper, faintly, its voice only discernible in the vague moments between sleep and waking. Don’t be fooled by volume. The faint voice may have more to say.

Humans create biologically. We also create the conditions of our lives, with our choices, our willingness to learn, observe, and investigate what lies beyond our immediate surroundings.

  • Every explorer wonders what waits beyond the horizon.
  • Every athlete imagines the heights of skill she can achieve.
  • Every artist practices her art to faithfully reproduce the images of the imagination.

People who perform at the highest levels of their sport, art, craft, or profession have an inner drive urging them on. They might call it inspiration or ambition. The words don’t matter. The vision that urges us to keep us moving forward comes from the Creative Self.

You can do it, the Creative Self notes, because it knows you can.

No matter how loud or soft, how often it comes, or how clear its message, the voice of the Creative Self is what you are waiting for.

“Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.”

                                                                                                                 Rumi

 

 

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Winners and More Winners

My new book, When Spirit Whispers: a journey of awakening, is a winner in the 2022 New Mexico-Arizona Book Awards! I am excited and gratified to be honored by this excellent organization.

The book was a labor of love, my small offering of aid and inspiration to those traveling the path of personal discovery. Writing and publishing it was a lot of work and the award got me thinking about what being a winner means.

Awards and recognition are great, of course, but not the whole story. I haven’t entered many contests, partly because the submission fees can be considerable and the wait times long. I decided to go straight for publication and focused on getting short stories published while I was finishing my first novel.

After struggling to learn how to write publishable work, my first published short story was a huge win! My work was in print! And accompanied by beautiful art! It encouraged me to learn more about the market and how to hone my stories so they would be interesting to editors and publishers.

In the last twelve years, I have published many short stories, personal essays, and three novels. I also self-published a collection of short stories, The Way Home, several short pieces of fiction, and now, two nonfiction books, When Spirit Whispers and the When Spirit Whispers Workbook.

I appreciate being recognized by industry professionals, but even with the fancy sticker I get to paste on my book, it’s the reaction of my readers that warms my heart. When readers tell me how they react to my book, some finding validation and inspiration in its pages, all the struggle to write and publish is worthwhile.

So what is a win?

Awards, yes, of course. And getting your words in print, yes, is fun and validating.

But, wins take many forms, like:

  • Finishing a book/story/screenplay/poem
  • Expressing yourself in writing, art, dance, song
  • Enjoying a career you love
  • Creating a loving family
  • Surviving difficult life events
  • Surviving loss in any form
  • Getting through and adjusting to any difficult medical diagnosis
  • Healing old trauma
  • Thriving anew from the lessons of trauma
  • Finding the friends, healers, and playmates who see us for who we are
  • Speaking our truth
  • Allowing love to guide us, even when the world is careening off its axis
  • Learning to forgive
  • Finding joy in work, play, nature, animals, and all the wonderful people who are standing in the light of love

How do you feel about winning? What gives you pleasure? What is joyful? What are you proud of?

If you can name even one thing, then you’re already a winner.

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Your Creative Self is Waiting for You!

My next nonfiction book has a working title of Your Creative Self is Waiting for You. I am writing it for readers who want to access their creativity in any form. I believe we are all creative. Even those who protest, “Oh, not me, I have no talent.”

We can’t all be famous painters and writers, but everyone can express themselves. Taking a few small steps to give form to our thoughts, images, yearnings, and ideals is empowering.

Writing in a journal, doodling with a pencil, coloring images in an adult coloring book, re-arranging a room, setting a beautiful dinner table, taking time to teach a child—all are creative acts that feed our souls.

With the humanitarian tragedy unfolding in Europe, my stress level has gone up. I wondered if writing about creativity is appropriate given the turmoil in the world. But then I remembered how writing eases my tension. Writing stories, especially, feels good.

And I remembered Paul Levy, a wise man who teaches about the negative effects of trauma in the mind, what he calls wetiko. Wetiko is a Native American term referring to the negative mental programming, or mind virus, that causes selfishness, insatiable greed, and the unfeeling wielding of power over others. Levy offers an answer to the question many are asking. What is happening to our world?

A few months ago, I took an online course from Levy. It was profound and inspiring. He said that we all suffer to some degree from the effects of wetiko  It can take the form of the inner critic who judges and criticizes, often urging us to act against our own interests. The good news is that one way to counteract it is with creative acts. So the time spent in the writing room, the studio, the workshop is not wasted. We can free ourselves by opening ourselves.

We are all stressed and anxious. The pandemic is winding down. But now we have inflation, war, cultural polarization, and the juxtaposition of truth and lies which is truly terrifying. All my life, I’ve struggled with discerning what’s true for me. People dealing with the effects of early trauma are often confused about how much to trust their feelings and intuition. I have used many methods to separate the easy messages of the common wisdom from my truth. Opening the channel to the inner world works. That’s why so many people are journaling. Writing memoirs. Taking up painting. Intuitively, they want the different answers that lie within.

So I write about the inner self, the Creative Self, the part that pain, disappointment, grief, loss, and illness have not damaged. The part that reminds us we are more than our experiences. We are creative beings who can change our thoughts. We change how we perceive our lives by playing, making music and art, by writing, and by opening our hearts to people, animals, and plants.

Being creative is not a panacea, and won’t solve the world’s problems, but accessing our creative energy brings us closer to life as it is supposed to be. It will relieve stress, release endorphins, and help distance us from the inner critic. When we play with the Creative Self, we remember who we are.

So don’t say, I’m not creative. Don’t listen to the critic who judges you not good enough to write/paint/build/compose. You’re exactly good enough, right now, to start. And that’s all it takes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Making Space for Happiness

By now, we thought our lives would have settled into whatever the “new normal” turned out to be. That doesn’t ring quite true. Not with a new virus strain, economic and political challenges, and warm weather that is both pleasant and a harbinger of an uncertain future.

With it all—frenetic holidays, rising prices, cataclysmic weather events sweeping the world, widening fissures in our society—we can still make space for love, creativity, and yes, even happiness.

The trick is not to forget we have more control over our lives than we take credit for. How we think is the key. I can’t control most of what happens in the outer world, but I can change my thoughts. I can root out my negative beliefs that bring up feelings of helplessness and anger. I don’t have to be a victim in someone else’s story.

I write my own story.

Of course, I always did. Just as you are writing your story, embellishing it as you go along, choosing characters to interact with, how fast the plot moves, the setting, and how it feels to be you.

Because of my early experiences, I created a lot of negative stories. Unpleasant experiences seemed to come at me from nowhere. Without the knowledge that I was repeating ingrained patterns formed from fear, distrust, and self-judgment, I was a victim of my mind’s programming.

Fortunately, I knew something was wrong, which made me feel bad but also propelled me into my healing journey. Eventually, I learned that to heal my wounds meant to let go—of self-judgment, old patterns, fear, distrust, anxiety, and depression. The more of the past I released, the happier I felt.

It is possible to be happy and creative, even during what looks like chaos. It’s possible to make a private space where your creative self can enfold you in the unconditional love that is yours for the asking.

All you have to do is change your thoughts.

Try it.

Try saying:

  • I love myself.
  • I am beautiful just as I am.
  • I am creative.
  • I am safe in the arms of love.

Say the words quietly, inside your head. No one’s listening except your Spirit.

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The Book I Feared to Write

When the pandemic of 2020 crashed down like a tidal wave, I retreated into my home to wait it out.

A writer and teacher who works at home, it wasn’t a stretch to teach classes online and restrict communications to telephone and Zoom sessions. Enforced isolation seemed the perfect time to w0rk on ideas I’d been gathering for a new book. No more excuses. Time to write that book.

For the first few weeks I believed my own story. Kept my commitments. Participated in online meetings and classes. On regular bike rides with my dog, Zena, I spoke to neighbors I had rarely seen. Everyone was eager to say hello, pass the time of day, and relay how they were coping. At the park, passersby were friendlier than usual. I sat under a ramada near a favorite tree while Zena rolled on the grass. Dogs trotted over to say hello. People waved. It was interesting how being forced to separate brought us closer together.

Weeks passed. I taught my classes, worked with students, completed editing jobs, and wrote. My writing practice is decades old, so I always write, but the new book’s focus eluded me. Anxiety kept me moving but also made it hard to sit and concentrate on an intensely private subject: my relationship to Spirit.

Fiction was easier to write, so I did that. Sent out short stories. Got a couple published. Still, I felt like a skittish animal running in ever-tightening circles around the one thing it wanted but feared to approach.

Facing my new book, which my mind had told me would be short and easy to write, I trembled.

An optimist at heart, I believe we have more freedom than we realize. We aren’t victims of our genetics, family upbringing, finances, politics, or experience. These things shape us, but at every moment, we have the choice to change. No matter our circumstances, we can embark on a fresh path.

Practice what you preach, I exhorted myself as I created a new spreadsheet and listed my chapters. I forged ahead with another draft—wrote, edited, researched, and organized. But something wasn’t right.

It was time to examine my own beliefs. One More Time.

After serious meditation and journaling, I uncovered the face of my resistance—my lifelong reticence to write about who I am. Not in the external sense. What was uncomfortable was writing about my inner world, which is far more real to me than what I do “out there.”

I am one of the lucky ones. From early childhood, I have wandered the inner world. I also knew that, if I spoke of it, the outcome would be ridicule and shaming. So I kept my counsel until I got older and found safe spaces to be myself.

The roots of my personal challenges were buried deep. Not “out there” in an unmarked grave but inside my psyche and body, what I call the “biofield.” Because of early trauma, I’ve berated and second-guessed myself, agonized, and rationalized when deciding about jobs, relationships, business, writing projects, and finances. I doubted my inner perceptions and the common wisdom. Anxiety was a constant companion. No matter what I did, I judged myself, taking on more responsibility than was mine to bear, experiencing the exquisite torture of teetering on the line between worlds.

Struggling with a book I couldn’t grasp, an epiphany burst forth. I realized that, at this moment, only what’s important counts—and what’s important is what I’ve learned from sojourning with my inner self. The lessons were not complicated, but I’ve been a slow study, so it’s taken time to re-member them

  • There is a path through life which we chose before birth.
  • We walk our own path, whether or not we know it.
  • Our inner self guides us, whether or not we notice.
  • Life is easier when we heed the messages from within.
  • When we listen to the messages of our inner self, it grows into a Wise Inner Guide.
  • Spirit possesses infinite patience.
  • It’s never too late to listen and learn. 

The book, When Spirit Whispers, a journey of awakening, will be published soon, along with an accompanying workbook. This article is an amended version of its preface. I plan to write two more volumes, Visions of Healing and Doorways to Healing.

Going forward, I will use this monthly blog to write about healing, trauma, and writing, the three subjects that intersect to form my path. I hope you will find it useful

If you would like to be an advance reader for When Spirit Whispers, contact me at carol@carolhollandmarch.com. I will send you an electronic copy of the book. If you enjoy it, I hope you will be kind enough to leave a review.

 

 

 

 

 

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Dancing With the Creative Self

Many of my students sign up for a writing course because they have an urge to bring forth their experiences.

They want to write stories, poems, memoirs. Many have never written before. They don’t know where to start. What to write about. How to choose fiction or nonfiction. Many have confidence issues. Fearing judgement, they hesitate to share their work.

I understand the tenderness of the beginning writer, the courage it takes to put forth embryonic work and place it under the light of scrutiny.

Even though I had written professionally for years, when I was ready to put out my first fiction, I was terrified. The marketing and training books I wrote, the manuals, web text, and scripts, even the ghost-written articles—none were as personal as fiction. It took stern conversations with myself before I started sending my work to magazines, accepting the inevitable rejections, and sending it out again.

Now, after publishing many short stories, three novels, and a few personal experience narratives, I tell my students that I learned the most about writing from the effort to produce publishable work.

My writing teachers taught me much. So did the students in the classes and workshops I attended. Every editor I hired to advise me before I sent out a piece taught me something new.

Some magazine editors were kind enough to say why they rejected my piece. Some even suggested changes. Every time I looked anew at a rejected story, I found ways to improve it. And of course there was the exquisite pleasure when  an editor said they liked my story.

The whole process was a learning experience. It toughened me and eventually became fun. Not to say I enjoy rejections, but they no longer stop me. It’s not personal. It’s the work. Which can be improved.

What’s important for new writers, especially those who start later in life, is to honor the urge to create. To bring forth and shape the nascent idea nagging at you. The images you know are part of a story. The characters who spring to life in your mind. The feeling that your experiences matter. Which they do.

We live our lives according to the story we tell ourselves. We change our lives by changing our stories. Whether we fictionalize our experiences or write searingly honest memoir, the benefits of getting them out of our heads and into the world are enormous. It helps us, and it helps others.

The drive to create is in everyone. It’s part of being human. Honored, it makes us more human.  Our Creative Self urges us onward. It wants to be expressed. It wants to dance, with joy and abandon. Honor it.

So, write! Sing! Dance! Paint! Make a poem! Outline your novel! Decide you’re going to tell about all that you’ve learned!  I promise, you won’t be sorry.

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Is the Story of Your Life Changing?

The stories of our daily lives have changed. We had no choice. We’re working at home. Not working. Home schooling the kids. Can’t travel. No baseball games, concerts, movies, or parties. We learned to operate on Zoom and discovered you can order anything, literally anything, on Amazon.

The changes were abrupt and startling. We adjusted and asked a lot of questions.

  • When will it be over?
  • Am I safe?
  • Is any of this true?
  • When will life go back to normal?

For answers, there’s no lack of stories.

  • It will end in the summer.
  • The virus will run its course like the flu.
  • Only old people are at risk, so don’t worry about it.
  • We don’t know what’s going to happen.
  • The way the story ends depends on how we behave.

We find ourselves in the role of protagonist.

But is that anything new?

There are so many stories to choose from. As much as humans love inventing stories, then repeating and elaborating on them to entertain each other, this is different, isn’t it?

Yes, and no.

Before written language, people told stories. They relayed what plant was safe to eat, what trail led away from the lion’s den and which one to follow for water.

Stories based on facts won.

When the story is about our health, safety, how we work, and how we provide for our families, we want a story based on the best facts available.

But when the story is about how we respond to abrupt cultural change and how we feel about it, that’s different. It’s about our lives. We get to make it up.

We tell a story about how we’re doing. What adjustments we’ve made. What’s going to happen. What it all means. It’s how our brains work. They want to know the next step. An unfinished story makes them squirm.

We tell the story of our lives all the time. To friends, to colleagues, when we’re interviewing for a job, or talking to a realtor about buying a house. The stories may be snippets, short stories, or in some cases, novels. This is who I am. This is what I did. This is what happened. This is what I’m going to do.

Our story makes up our personal myth.

  • I’m the kind of person who always . . .
  • I love a challenge.
  • Nothing stops me from reaching my goals.
  • If my family had been supportive, I could have . . .
  • Relationships never worked out for me.
  • Boredom is the worst, so I go where the adventure is.

Now that life has changed, are you changing your story? Developing a new plot? Inviting new characters into it?

In fiction the hero’s journey is a familiar plot. The protagonist ventures forth, meets allies, vanquishes enemies, and after conflict and difficulty, seizes the prize. Whether the prize is a princess to love, treasure, or hard-won knowledge, he meets his destiny. He was brave and developed skills.

Another journey is that of the heroine, taken by both men and women. It does not require a quest, but instead follows an inner path where memories, feelings, and beliefs are examined. The goal is to be authentic. The heroine examines her values, decides how much of the common wisdom applies, and who she will be in the future.

This time seems perfect for the inner journey, a pause to examine our lives, notice our reactions to the changes we’ve had to make, and decide what can be left behind. As we move forward, we may need a new perspective. New plans. A new attitude.

If you’ve thought about writing the story of your life, for personal development, legacy, or memoir, this may be the time. Especially if that story is changing. Writing helps sort things out so you can become the conscious narrator of who you are and who you will become.

I offer a class on Writing the Story of Your Life through UNM Continuing Education. Contact me to learn more about it.

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Why We Need Visionary Fiction


I have always written visionary fiction. It wasn’t as much a choice as how I perceived the world. Dreams, visions, alternate realities that peek from behind the veil, reincarnation, ghosts, messengers from other worlds—all the stories that dropped into my mind included these elements. When I sat down to write, I wondered how to incorporate them. What was I writing? Science fiction? Fantasy? Magical realism? As it turned out, all of the above.

As old as recorded literature, visionary and metaphysical fiction is now considered a sub-genre of speculative fiction, along with science fiction, fantasy, and horror.

In the Iliad and Odyssey, spirits spoke freely and generally interfered in the lives of mortals. In The Divine Comedy, we learn how one visionary experienced the afterlife. H.P. Lovecraft made us feel the dread of cosmic horror. And Paulo Coehlo enchanted us with the story of a boy pursuing his dream as he learned about magic and alchemy in The Alchemist.

So what makes a story visionary?

The purpose, for one thing. All stories must engage and entertain, but not all stories encourage readers to expand their view of what’s possible. Visionary fiction tells us about places, times, and beings we cannot perceive with our five senses. A leap of faith is needed. It encourages readers to expand themselves, to explore their own depths and engage their imagination. Visionary stories tease our creative brains as they challenge us to seek for the line between real and unreal.

But how does that help us now?  In today’s world of pandemic disease, racism, uncertainty, and polarization, what value could an imagined journey to a made-up world have?

A lot, actually. The best fantasies, myths, and fairytales speak from the unconscious. The language of the soul, they offer the wisdom of the twilight world couched in symbol and archetype. They speak of the emotional, the intuitive, and the underlying connectedness of all life. Our frazzled minds may not understand, but our hearts do.

To solve personal and societal problems, we need new perspectives. The old ways are crumbling and traditional solutions have driven us farther apart. So why not look to visionary literature for clues?

To expand individual consciousness, a person turns inward. This is shadow work, the search for what was denied. Jealousy, anger, blame, fear, competition, dishonesty—all the emotions and impulses we prefer to ignore—end up in the shadow. If not attended to, they re-appear at the worst possible moment, causing us to say and do things we regret. Think of all the acts of violence perpetrated by people described as “quiet, polite, never caused any trouble.”

Only as we accept our “negative” emotions can we attain deeper levels of insight. Only then can our creativity blossom.

To face the shadow standing at the cusp of light and dark requires commitment and intention. We must be brave. Admit we’re not perfect. And make the journey down into ourselves. Into our bodies. Our past.

In my meditations, the entrance to the underground appears as a cave, sometimes a crack between two rocks in the desert. Like the shamans of old, to notice the door is to be invited to enter.  Anyone can do it, even though most walk on by.

If we choose not to enter, we can hang on to our established beliefs. The trick is that what we don’t recognize within will be met outside. To heal the shadow in ourselves and society, we need to acknowledge what is uncomfortable. Climb down off that mountain of certainty. Which is exactly what the best visionary shows us how to do.

If we want to participate in healing the global changes causing so much fear and confusion now, being aware of our personal shadow is a good first step.

Another step is to notice what in us is similar to what we judge on the outside. For most people, this is a tough one. I have struggled with it. It means the end of blame and judgement. A tough one.

Which is why the journey to fantasyland, the underground, or the next star system is replete with struggle. Trials and tribulations. Dead ends. Attacks of the zombies or lizard people. It’s hard. Not everyone makes it. That’s why we read about it. We wonder, if we find the courage to go, will we make it?

For the journey to be complete, the hero must return with the treasure. Which may not be a gold ring, but something better. Knowledge. Perspective. Creativity. And eventually, the ability to look back with satisfaction. As Bilbo the hobbit said, “There and back again.”

We go into the darkness to bring back the light.

To read one of my visionary short stories, originally published in ABQinPrint, go here.

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Now Is The Time

Well, here we are. It’s been a month since I’ve attended a meeting outside my home. A month since I’ve taught in a classroom. Since I’ve had lunch with a friend, gone to a movie or stood in line at the grocery store. Even for an introverted writer who loves solitude, staying home this much gets weird.

Every day I bike through my neighborhood with my dog. She’s well over a hundred in people years, so we don’t go far. Lots of stopping and sniffing. I want her to keep her muscle strength as long as possible, so I persuade her even when she’s reluctant. She gains enthusiasm as we progress and on our way home, she trots along beside me, wagging and smiling. I put her inside and go out for a longer, harder ride. Sometimes I walk a Bosque trail. Most days I visit the local park to sit under a Ramada and watch people playing with their dogs and kids.

Everywhere I go, people greet me. They wave from cars and porches. We exchange anecdotes about our dogs, our shopping challenges, the weather. I know twice as many of my neighbors as before the pandemic. Maybe because more people are home. Maybe because community is our only bulwark against the waves of tragedy and fear sweeping our land.

It’s so odd that now we express our love for each other by keeping our distance.

I’m one of the lucky ones who can work at home and order what I need. And suddenly there was plenty of time. The perennial excuse evaporated overnight. Without appointments, errands, and classes, I could be wildly productive.

But it’s a month in and I’m just beginning to settle down. I have written. I always do. But my productivity did not escalate with the additional time. I found myself dithering, staring into space, watching shows on Netflix I didn’t even like.

My old responses to stress—procrastination, obsessing on unimportant details—re-appeared. My thoughts and fears about the pain and suffering hovering over the world like a black cloud was the culprit.

I meditated and prayed about it. Took the practical steps feasible for me. Reminded myself that I am safe. I am healthy. At this moment, I have a place to live, food to eat, beautiful animals to keep me company, friends to call and zoom with. And now, I’ve started offering writing workshops via zoom. Why not? Virtual training may be the new normal.

Finally, it occurred. This is the time. To stop making excuses. To look at my reactions to the changes in our world without flinching. To walk the talk. Be honest. The reason I’m not working on my new book for six hours a day is because I’m nervous!

When I’m nervous, I procrastinate. I read every email, news reports, the latest statistics. Being informed is fine, but knowing all the details doesn’t help.

So what does? What helps us live with uncertainty? This is what I came up with

  • Acknowledge feelings. It’s okay to feel anxious, stressed, impatient, depressed. Feelings denied only pop up later. Now is the time to admit that I’m human. I’m upset. I don’t like this. I want it to end.
  • Make self-care a priority. A walk, a bike ride, a yoga tape, an online exercise class. Deep breathing, meditation, stretching, dancing around the living room. Now is the time to move—bodies and emotions so those negative thoughts don’t dig in
  • Keep in touch. Call, skype, email, zoom, wave from the porch. Make a new friend while out walking the neighborhood.
  • Help someone. What can I do? Who needs help?
  • Tolerate uncertainty. There’s no telling how any creative project will turn out, so that’s nothing new for a writer. It’s a good skill to master. Now is the time to let go of trying to control things. It was mostly an illusion anyway.
  • Take small steps. Now is the time to say, I don’t know, and move forward. The best cure for paralysis is action. One foot in front of the other.
  • And most important, notice negative thoughts. The what if’s. The it might’s. None of them are real. They’re just thoughts. And thoughts can be changed. Dissolved. Replaced.

I am safe.

I am healthy.

I have what I need.

I can adapt.

I can create.

I can do my work.

I can love.

All content copyright © 2023 by Carol Holland March. All rights reserved.