After dwelling on my poor mood, inspired by not only my lack of writing portfolio but also my current inability to run (damn ankle) and our uncertainty about being able to go on to vacation next week (thanks, Massage Envy, for keeping us in suspense), I decided to listen to Abraham on my way to pick up cat food, Amway connection notwithstanding.
Abraham spoke about our moods, and how our moods reflect whether we're problem oriented or solution oriented, and how solutions don't come when your vibration matches that of the problem.
I gotta admit, from a completely practical standpoint, spiritual influences disregarded entirely, that they've got a point. Who's going to write when she's all mopey about not having written?
Would Richard Bannister have run a mile in under 4 minutes if he only focussed on his near-misses? Somehow he got past the historical evidence of what is, and aligned himself with what could be.
I was feeling better, and as I left Target, I looked down and there was a dollar bill. I picked it up, and drove to Kroger to buy a scratch-off ticket with it.
I did not win.
Happily, I don't really care. If I'd picked up a $100 bill and spent it on 5 $20 lottery tickets and not won anything, I might care a little, but as it stands it was only a wasted stop. Besides, I doubt I would have spent $100 on lottery tickets all at once to begin with, wherever the money may have come from.
So now I'm off to do some focus wheels and rearrange my thinking about writing, and money, and working for the man, and getting time off while working for the man, and whatever else might occur to me before time to go to work.
Friday, April 22, 2011
uncomfortable with my dreams
We had a lovely dinner out with friends last night, starting at Chubby's Tacos, continuing through a tour of our new massage space and ending at Ben and Jerry's. I've known the couple we were out with for a few years; this was Jessica's first true social engagement with them. We got along famously, discussed lying about food consumption and other things dear to our hearts, and plan further engagements over the summer and visiting them after they move to Guatemala (land of avocados and coffee) in August. Good times were and shall be had.
Over ice cream, the conversation turned to ayahuesca, and how both Sharon and I have an interest in having an experience with it. She asked why I was interested, and when she found my answer too vague, asked for an example.
I hemmed and hawed and finally admitted that I wonder if it would help me write.
I used to think that perhaps there was some sort of metaphorical subconscious demon I needed to slay in order to fulfill my dreams of writing, or if maybe there was a piece of my soul that was estranged from me at an early age that I need to reunite with to achieve the same end. Now it's more vague than that, a sort of "maybe it will help," hoping that it won't involve anything too scary. I don't like scary.
Admitting that was as scary for me as any demon I might meet, though. My heart raced, I felt an ache in my chest, I grew quiet for quite a while after my confession. I was moody for much of the rest of the evening after we got home.
I'm not very good at avoiding questions, particularly with friends I trust. Jessica suggested I come up with a stock answer so that I can keep my personal business as personal as I like when it comes to writing. That's probably a good idea.
Meanwhile, I have to wonder why it strikes such terror in my heart to even talk about it sometimes.
I think it has something to do with deciding to write when I was around 9 years old and still having little or nothing to show for it at 41.
Meanwhile, I am working on it. I've gotten up early the last two days and done some line editing of the first two chapters of Ari (the novel I wrote during NaNoWriMo this year). I must admit I'm a little lost about how to go about editing it, making sure the overall story arc is there, the subplots make sense, and that it weaves into a fairly interesting whole.
The Creative Writing MFA at NCSU requires not only a writing sample but letters of recommendation from three people who can speak to my writing and editing skills as well as my academic aptitude. My best bet is to take continuing education courses and rely on those teachers for the recommendations, as well as work on editing so that my novel sounds promising when I send the first couple of chapters to the English department at NCSU.
So this morning I looked up Duke Continuing Education's courses on creative writing, and there's a lovely sounding one . . . that starts in 4 days and costs $190. Why do I find these things at the last minute? I'd like to go ahead and get started with it now; procrastination is never helpful. But I haven't looked at courses at the local art centers yet, so hopefully they'll have something a little more affordable that doesn't start right away. At least I can make an informed decision at that point.
Abraham talks about getting into the Vortex before taking action, and while I'm hardly in the Vortex, I have to say that the thought of taking action, while scary, feels a lot better than the thought of not, which just makes me sad. So I'll count my pennies and keep looking for a doable course, editing a little every day and hoping to get into the swing of it soon.
Perhaps ayahuesca is the key . . .
Over ice cream, the conversation turned to ayahuesca, and how both Sharon and I have an interest in having an experience with it. She asked why I was interested, and when she found my answer too vague, asked for an example.
I hemmed and hawed and finally admitted that I wonder if it would help me write.
I used to think that perhaps there was some sort of metaphorical subconscious demon I needed to slay in order to fulfill my dreams of writing, or if maybe there was a piece of my soul that was estranged from me at an early age that I need to reunite with to achieve the same end. Now it's more vague than that, a sort of "maybe it will help," hoping that it won't involve anything too scary. I don't like scary.
Admitting that was as scary for me as any demon I might meet, though. My heart raced, I felt an ache in my chest, I grew quiet for quite a while after my confession. I was moody for much of the rest of the evening after we got home.
I'm not very good at avoiding questions, particularly with friends I trust. Jessica suggested I come up with a stock answer so that I can keep my personal business as personal as I like when it comes to writing. That's probably a good idea.
Meanwhile, I have to wonder why it strikes such terror in my heart to even talk about it sometimes.
I think it has something to do with deciding to write when I was around 9 years old and still having little or nothing to show for it at 41.
Meanwhile, I am working on it. I've gotten up early the last two days and done some line editing of the first two chapters of Ari (the novel I wrote during NaNoWriMo this year). I must admit I'm a little lost about how to go about editing it, making sure the overall story arc is there, the subplots make sense, and that it weaves into a fairly interesting whole.
The Creative Writing MFA at NCSU requires not only a writing sample but letters of recommendation from three people who can speak to my writing and editing skills as well as my academic aptitude. My best bet is to take continuing education courses and rely on those teachers for the recommendations, as well as work on editing so that my novel sounds promising when I send the first couple of chapters to the English department at NCSU.
So this morning I looked up Duke Continuing Education's courses on creative writing, and there's a lovely sounding one . . . that starts in 4 days and costs $190. Why do I find these things at the last minute? I'd like to go ahead and get started with it now; procrastination is never helpful. But I haven't looked at courses at the local art centers yet, so hopefully they'll have something a little more affordable that doesn't start right away. At least I can make an informed decision at that point.
Abraham talks about getting into the Vortex before taking action, and while I'm hardly in the Vortex, I have to say that the thought of taking action, while scary, feels a lot better than the thought of not, which just makes me sad. So I'll count my pennies and keep looking for a doable course, editing a little every day and hoping to get into the swing of it soon.
Perhaps ayahuesca is the key . . .
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
intrinsic motivation
I read over my last blog entry, and happily it's not quite as dark and hopeless as I felt after I wrote it, then I thought I'd read Abraham's quote of the day to the right of my blog (which only shows correctly in Firefox for some reason, so if you want to read it, Control-A to select the whole page and then you'll be able to see it). Here it is (it changes every day, so I'm cutting and pasting this particular one here):
Daily Law of Attraction Quotation
If we had a child, or anyone, and we caught them doing something inappropriate, we would not amplify it with our words. We would identify what it is we do not want, and then out of it would come the rocket of desire of what we do want, and then we would just visualize, visualize, visualize, until we find peace within our vision. When you make someone and their action the heart of a vision that you've spent time on -- your relationship improves, your experience is better, and they receive the benefit of the experience.
But if you catch them, and see them, and worry about it, and put mechanisms in place to prevent it, now you have not only amplified it, you have now made a commitment that is hooking you both into that, until usually it gets big enough that you break apart, and then you attract others to fulfill that role.
--- Abraham
Excerpted from the workshop in Chicago, IL on Sunday, April 25th, 1999 #42
So I noted the behavior I didn't want to continue and amplified it in my last blog post. My objective is to note the behavior I do want in myself, and amplify that. But the unwanted behavior is so fascinating . . .
I'm listening to Talent is Overrated now, and I'm in the section about business. All the performance books I like have big sections on business, and I'm not really into business, except my own business, which is picking up nicely. (Next on my list: Guerilla Marketing.) His major point thus far is that great talent comes with great work, with specific, directed practice that isn't necessarily the same thing as doing the same thing over and over again. A great football player doesn't get great by just playing football; he runs hills, does leg presses, etc., to give him the advantage he needs on game day.
I understand that. I understand that if I want to become a great guitar player, I need to practice my scales, sightread, and dedicate a lot more time than I currently do to music. I understand that if I want to be a great novelist, or even a good one, a lot of time should be spent writing, rewriting, getting my work critiqued and critiquing my work myself, comparing it to what I consider great writing and analyzing where my writing falls short, working to make it better. Benjamin Franklin had a great method to improve his writing that the Colvin (the author) gives in detail from Franklin's autobiography. It sounds like a lot of work, and it's a little intimidating, but I really think I could do it. The key is getting myself to do it.
And that's where my quest always leads me--wondering where that passion and drive come from, and wondering how to tap into my own. Colvin talks about it in his final chapter, which I'm not at yet, and I'm really curious as to whether he says it's a great mystery or of it gives pointers on how to develop your own passion. I'll keep you posted.
I read Daniel Pink's Drive for the same reason, to figure out how to give myself that sort of oomph, and I came away from the book thinking that it would be great to work for Google, but still unsure how to motivate myself. The reward of doing and growing and learning is greater than the reward of bonuses.
Meanwhile, reading Talent has really given me pause about why I've been reluctant to try to get into an MFA program for writing. I give excuses like not wanting to dilute my voice with others' criticism; not wanting to sound all stuffy and full of myself, like I think some MFAs do, though I have no evidence for this belief. The truth the thought of working hard on my writing and being graded on it intimidates me.
I have no such concerns about critical writing, personal essays or research papers. It's just fiction that gives me the willies, and perhaps that's because it's too dear to my heart to risk failure.
Colvin does point out two characteristics of people who are willing to work hard to get better: self-efficacy (they believe they are capable of doing what it is they're working at), and a belief that their hard work will pay off.
This makes total logical sense to me. Logic works well for rearranging my beliefs. I think I might be on to something.
I believe I'm a decent writer. I've seen my writing improve through college courses--I learned more in Advanced Composition back at Harding, with our critiquing groups and Dr. Long's encouragement and criticism, than I have anywhere else.
I know a few areas that I need to work on: Structure and composition--getting from point A to point B logically. A penchant for really long and convoluted sentences which may or may not get my point across effectively. Middles--I know where my story starts and where it ends, but what happens in between I'm fucking clueless about.
I'm willing to work on these issues.
Jessica is an inspiration to me. She has never run regularly, and last week--for the first time in her life--she jogged for 20 minutes straight. She's doing the Couch-to-5k program, and while she bitched unabashedly about how not fun running was in the beginning, she stuck to it and has been bitten by "the bug." She was intimidated by the 20 minute hurdle, developed her own plan to ramp up her training a little more slowly so that her calves could acclimate to the increased time, decided she could do it and then did. She recognizes that she has a problem with her calves tightening up, and when she couldn't figure out on her own how to stop it, she signed us both up for a Chi Running class, which starts tonight. (The class is a few days past due for me, as I did something really horrible to my ankle on my last run and am still limping.)
She's amazing in that way: if she wants to do something, she is a great power to be reckoned with. She plugs away methodically even when she doesn't feel like it. She believes in her ability, and she believes that hard work brings results.
I, on the other hand--well, let me give you an example from my past.
I had always wanted to be able to play guitar. When I was 28, I decided that I would take lessons, even though I hadn't started at an early age and would likely never be an international sensation. I wanted to play well enough to be able to sing at the same time, and I was willing to put in the work. I took lessons for over a year, and one day my teacher, in an effort to praise me for my hard work, told me how well I was doing and how he could tell that I did something that most of the rest of his students never did: I practiced.
I knew that most of his students were teenage boys who wanted to be the next Kurt Cobain, who probably didn't apply themselves at anything and who would probably become bartenders in the French Quarter, smoke a lot of pot and eventually start their own contracting businesses, if they were lucky. I did not wish to be like them. I wanted to be good.
Still, the knowledge that I worked harder at something than someone else bugged me, and my practicing suffered as a result. I never conquered shifting from 3rd to 5th position playing F scales, deeming that one exercise as too difficult, ignoring the many songs and exercises that I'd practiced until I could play them smoothly . . . and eventually quit.
Now, from my new perspective, I wish I hadn't.
Being willing to work hard at something you care about is a reason for pride. It's not the sign of a loser who has nothing better to do; it's the sign of someone who believes in herself and her ability to overcome difficulties. Being able to set aside the urge to jump up and down, screaming "This is the most annoyingly frustrating exercise in the world!"--or at least to sit down and start playing again after the screaming--is a sign of great character, mental fortitude, and other qualities that fathers worldwide try to instill in their children.
I want to be the kind of person who does things even when they're annoying and tedious just to get better.
To bring it back to Abraham, it's a lot easier to do those annoying and tedious things from inside the Vortex. Sometimes it's annoying and tedious to get myself into that place--into a place where I believe my hard work will pay off rather than stymie me completely.
Meanwhile, the idea of starting an MFA program is niggling at the back of my brain. There's actually a pretty good one at NC State, about an hour from my house. What do I need to apply? Three letters of recommendation, which I can come up with even though I've not been active in the study of writing any time recently. A GRE score from the past 5 years, which is a simple matter of scheduling. $65 application fee: doable. A 15 page critical paper; not a problem. A plan for how to pay for the program if I get in: I'll worry about that later, because it's just an excuse to not get to the last requirement. A writing sample of my fiction . . . that would require editing and working hard and committing. And then there's the hard work that comes after getting in; hopefully the massage business would be in full-swing by then.
So . . . that leaves me with editing my work being my first priority, which is hard work. But hard work brings improvement, and a program brings proven methods to practice and get better, mentors and colleagues, and a commitment to actually do what I want to do, much like signing up for the Marine Corps Marathon.
And this is where I'm at today, limping toward the edge of commitment, looking forward to teetering on that edge and learning to dive.
Daily Law of Attraction QuotationIf we had a child, or anyone, and we caught them doing something inappropriate, we would not amplify it with our words. We would identify what it is we do not want, and then out of it would come the rocket of desire of what we do want, and then we would just visualize, visualize, visualize, until we find peace within our vision. When you make someone and their action the heart of a vision that you've spent time on -- your relationship improves, your experience is better, and they receive the benefit of the experience.
But if you catch them, and see them, and worry about it, and put mechanisms in place to prevent it, now you have not only amplified it, you have now made a commitment that is hooking you both into that, until usually it gets big enough that you break apart, and then you attract others to fulfill that role.
--- Abraham
Excerpted from the workshop in Chicago, IL on Sunday, April 25th, 1999 #42
So I noted the behavior I didn't want to continue and amplified it in my last blog post. My objective is to note the behavior I do want in myself, and amplify that. But the unwanted behavior is so fascinating . . .
I'm listening to Talent is Overrated now, and I'm in the section about business. All the performance books I like have big sections on business, and I'm not really into business, except my own business, which is picking up nicely. (Next on my list: Guerilla Marketing.) His major point thus far is that great talent comes with great work, with specific, directed practice that isn't necessarily the same thing as doing the same thing over and over again. A great football player doesn't get great by just playing football; he runs hills, does leg presses, etc., to give him the advantage he needs on game day.
I understand that. I understand that if I want to become a great guitar player, I need to practice my scales, sightread, and dedicate a lot more time than I currently do to music. I understand that if I want to be a great novelist, or even a good one, a lot of time should be spent writing, rewriting, getting my work critiqued and critiquing my work myself, comparing it to what I consider great writing and analyzing where my writing falls short, working to make it better. Benjamin Franklin had a great method to improve his writing that the Colvin (the author) gives in detail from Franklin's autobiography. It sounds like a lot of work, and it's a little intimidating, but I really think I could do it. The key is getting myself to do it.
And that's where my quest always leads me--wondering where that passion and drive come from, and wondering how to tap into my own. Colvin talks about it in his final chapter, which I'm not at yet, and I'm really curious as to whether he says it's a great mystery or of it gives pointers on how to develop your own passion. I'll keep you posted.
I read Daniel Pink's Drive for the same reason, to figure out how to give myself that sort of oomph, and I came away from the book thinking that it would be great to work for Google, but still unsure how to motivate myself. The reward of doing and growing and learning is greater than the reward of bonuses.
Meanwhile, reading Talent has really given me pause about why I've been reluctant to try to get into an MFA program for writing. I give excuses like not wanting to dilute my voice with others' criticism; not wanting to sound all stuffy and full of myself, like I think some MFAs do, though I have no evidence for this belief. The truth the thought of working hard on my writing and being graded on it intimidates me.
I have no such concerns about critical writing, personal essays or research papers. It's just fiction that gives me the willies, and perhaps that's because it's too dear to my heart to risk failure.
Colvin does point out two characteristics of people who are willing to work hard to get better: self-efficacy (they believe they are capable of doing what it is they're working at), and a belief that their hard work will pay off.
This makes total logical sense to me. Logic works well for rearranging my beliefs. I think I might be on to something.
I believe I'm a decent writer. I've seen my writing improve through college courses--I learned more in Advanced Composition back at Harding, with our critiquing groups and Dr. Long's encouragement and criticism, than I have anywhere else.
I know a few areas that I need to work on: Structure and composition--getting from point A to point B logically. A penchant for really long and convoluted sentences which may or may not get my point across effectively. Middles--I know where my story starts and where it ends, but what happens in between I'm fucking clueless about.
I'm willing to work on these issues.
Jessica is an inspiration to me. She has never run regularly, and last week--for the first time in her life--she jogged for 20 minutes straight. She's doing the Couch-to-5k program, and while she bitched unabashedly about how not fun running was in the beginning, she stuck to it and has been bitten by "the bug." She was intimidated by the 20 minute hurdle, developed her own plan to ramp up her training a little more slowly so that her calves could acclimate to the increased time, decided she could do it and then did. She recognizes that she has a problem with her calves tightening up, and when she couldn't figure out on her own how to stop it, she signed us both up for a Chi Running class, which starts tonight. (The class is a few days past due for me, as I did something really horrible to my ankle on my last run and am still limping.)
She's amazing in that way: if she wants to do something, she is a great power to be reckoned with. She plugs away methodically even when she doesn't feel like it. She believes in her ability, and she believes that hard work brings results.
I, on the other hand--well, let me give you an example from my past.
I had always wanted to be able to play guitar. When I was 28, I decided that I would take lessons, even though I hadn't started at an early age and would likely never be an international sensation. I wanted to play well enough to be able to sing at the same time, and I was willing to put in the work. I took lessons for over a year, and one day my teacher, in an effort to praise me for my hard work, told me how well I was doing and how he could tell that I did something that most of the rest of his students never did: I practiced.
I knew that most of his students were teenage boys who wanted to be the next Kurt Cobain, who probably didn't apply themselves at anything and who would probably become bartenders in the French Quarter, smoke a lot of pot and eventually start their own contracting businesses, if they were lucky. I did not wish to be like them. I wanted to be good.
Still, the knowledge that I worked harder at something than someone else bugged me, and my practicing suffered as a result. I never conquered shifting from 3rd to 5th position playing F scales, deeming that one exercise as too difficult, ignoring the many songs and exercises that I'd practiced until I could play them smoothly . . . and eventually quit.
Now, from my new perspective, I wish I hadn't.
Being willing to work hard at something you care about is a reason for pride. It's not the sign of a loser who has nothing better to do; it's the sign of someone who believes in herself and her ability to overcome difficulties. Being able to set aside the urge to jump up and down, screaming "This is the most annoyingly frustrating exercise in the world!"--or at least to sit down and start playing again after the screaming--is a sign of great character, mental fortitude, and other qualities that fathers worldwide try to instill in their children.
I want to be the kind of person who does things even when they're annoying and tedious just to get better.
To bring it back to Abraham, it's a lot easier to do those annoying and tedious things from inside the Vortex. Sometimes it's annoying and tedious to get myself into that place--into a place where I believe my hard work will pay off rather than stymie me completely.
Meanwhile, the idea of starting an MFA program is niggling at the back of my brain. There's actually a pretty good one at NC State, about an hour from my house. What do I need to apply? Three letters of recommendation, which I can come up with even though I've not been active in the study of writing any time recently. A GRE score from the past 5 years, which is a simple matter of scheduling. $65 application fee: doable. A 15 page critical paper; not a problem. A plan for how to pay for the program if I get in: I'll worry about that later, because it's just an excuse to not get to the last requirement. A writing sample of my fiction . . . that would require editing and working hard and committing. And then there's the hard work that comes after getting in; hopefully the massage business would be in full-swing by then.
So . . . that leaves me with editing my work being my first priority, which is hard work. But hard work brings improvement, and a program brings proven methods to practice and get better, mentors and colleagues, and a commitment to actually do what I want to do, much like signing up for the Marine Corps Marathon.
And this is where I'm at today, limping toward the edge of commitment, looking forward to teetering on that edge and learning to dive.
Friday, April 8, 2011
what is the law of attraction? is it real?
Whenever I get worried about money, I make jokes--a few too many jokes--about winning the lottery.
I buy scratch off tickets--not a ton of them, but $5 here and there.
I throw in the occasional PowerBall ticket.
I start reading samples of books on my Kindle app about how to win the lottery.
I get really restless about going to work at the McSpa, gripe about it endlessly and lament how little they pay.
Jessica pointed this out to me the last time it happened, and asked if I had enough money to make the mortgage that month, because the last time I had gone a little lottery crazy I didn't, and ended up paying late fees and catching up, which really hurt financially.
She is observant.
Abraham would say that I shouldn't tie my hopes to one possible source of income--that I should focus on the money I want and feel that I already have it and not worry about where it comes from. I'm not really sure where else a sudden influx of funds might come from that would allow me to invest more fully in our own business and pay off my debts, but maybe it's due to lack of imagination.
Actually, I do have an idea. In my dream world I'm a successful novelist. It would help if I worked on my novel, though, and there you have it.
Proponents of the law of attraction and other it-can-only-be-true-if-you-believe-it philosophies often point to Richard Bannister, and how everyone believed that a mile couldn't be run by a human in less than 4 minutes. Bannister convinced himself that it was possible, accomplished the feat, and soon several other runners also broke the 4 minute mile barrier.
The question is, if you really believe it can happen, can it really happen? Or is it only that if you really believe it can't happen, that belief stops you?
Skeptics point out druggies who jump off of roofs because they really believe they can fly, ending up with broken bones or worse. If I believed I could fly, I would try lifting up off the ground. Much more impressive. Plus, that's how Sally Field did it, and she's pretty awesome.
What's interesting here is that, thanks to Wilbur and Orville, we can fly. Maybe not without a lot of accoutrements, but it's doable. Hell, my friend Chris is getting his pilot's license, and if he can fly . . . well, you get my point.
And then there's the issue of synchronicity. When we think about something a lot, do we really get more of that something, or do we just notice what's already there more? Would I have found a digital piano and an air compressor in a giveaway pile across the street if I hadn't been listening to Abraham?
On a slightly different note, would I have won $100 in that first scratch-off if I hadn't felt so lucky that day?
The overall attitude that Abraham promotes, you gotta admit, is good. Appreciate what you have, hope for better. The danger is that people (at least, I do) concentrate on the hoping for better and end up living in a fantasy world trying to make that real by just believing, not taking action if they're not in the Vortex, trying to minimize their own pain by pretending it's not there.
If you listen carefully, Abraham doesn't promote that. But you have to listen carefully.
Abraham says: Get into the Vortex, and then take action. Well, that's just common sense. If you're grumpy when you make a difficult phone call, your grumpiness is likely to show through and mess up the communication. If you're convinced you can't run a 4 minute mile but try anyway, chances are you won't make it. Sometimes I find that taking action when I don't feel like it gets me closer to the Vortex, though.
Abraham says: It is possible to be in the Vortex and to be in pain. It ain't easy, but it's possible. This only comes up when Abraham clears up past assertions that people have taken too far.
I should put some sort of transition sentence here, but I don't really feel like it. So there.
So what is it that I believe, and how can I change what I believe?
I believe I could write really good novels. I have no past experience with this, though, so I lean toward believing that I never will because I never have. I hear my father's voice taunting me about cleaning my room without being punished beforehand.
It's not my dad's fault, though, if I don't do what I want now. It's my own fault, but finding fault doesn't inspire me to change. It only discourages me.
I've only rarely benefited from an, "Oh, yeah? Well I'll show them!" attitude. I'm more likely to delve into creativity when I see someone else's and realize that I, too, can do that.
So . . . my belief is that creating my own reality is an active process. A process of encouraging myself, of believing that something's possible, of believing that the universe is a more or less benevolent place, and that shit happens, sometimes for the better, sometimes not. And, most importantly, that getting off my ass is a part of the creative process.
Belief is powerful.
My mom believes that I'm going to burn in hell for leaving the church and that lesbianism is why I left the church. I believe that arguing with her about that is only going to bring frustration and alienation. So it sits where it sits.
I also believe that if I believed that I could really make a living writing, I'd just do it. So should I convince myself that I could make a living writing, or should I convince myself that it doesn't matter whether I make a living at it or not? Or should I just force myself to write? I gotta admit, I really loved National Novel Writing Month. Loved writing every day, even if it wasn't the best work I've ever seen. Loved having a common goal with Jessica. Loved turning the television off to get our word quotas in. Loved sitting on the patio and typing away, like I am now, with a cup of coffee and a couple of spastic dogs distracting me. So why does it take a challenge like NaNoWriMo to get me to do it? (And why isn't there a National Novel Editing Month?) Why does it take signing up for a marathon to get me to run regularly?
But the real question is, how do you go about convincing yourself of anything without first doing whatever it is that you want to convince yourself is possible? Can I do anything like that without some sort of external prodding, like committing to NaNoWriMo or signing up for the Marine Corps Marathon?
Of course, it was I who committed to it, so it was an internal prodding more than anything.
I've signed up for online writing courses and it's not quite the same. Maybe there's a lack of adrenaline or something.
The workings of my own mind are pretty fucking convoluted. Sorry to bring you into my thought processes, but that's what this blog is for.
I like the idea of hypnosis to change my beliefs. Perhaps I should work on the belief that I need an external constraint to do what I want. Or perhaps I should invent external constraints to get me there.
I don't need guitar lessons to practice guitar, but I practiced a lot more when I took them. I don't need a marathon on the horizon to jog regularly, but it sure makes it more likely that I won't skive off on exercising.
The funny thing is, I really think I hate deadlines, but they seem to work wonders for me.
And what does that have to do with the Law of Attraction? It's that it's mostly about beliefs, and I believe that my beliefs hold me back. Maybe if I didn't believe in the power of beliefs that would open up more possibilities for me, except that I can't seem to let go of that belief, or of any other belief that I'm convinced I have.
No, wait. I have let go of beliefs. It was scary and liberating to let go of the belief that I'd go to hell if I let go of church--particularly the church I was raised in. And I did that through logic, a sort of a self-imposed cognitive therapy that I muddled through not really meaning to. I didn't want to let go of my faith, but I ended up having to.
I do want to let go of my ambivalence, my labile self-confidence, and I have all sorts of tools in the form of self-help books and hypnosis recordings with which to do it. The thing is, I want to push a button and upload the ability, a la The Matrix, yet I want to have the satisfaction of working through it on my own as well.
I am writing myself in circles, and bringing you with me. Do forgive. Standing on the outside, you probably see me much more clearly than I can.
I search for a higher perspective with which to see myself, but realize that I'm still holding onto the old one.
Perhaps enlightenment is the letting go of all beliefs.
I wonder what that would be like.
I buy scratch off tickets--not a ton of them, but $5 here and there.
I throw in the occasional PowerBall ticket.
I start reading samples of books on my Kindle app about how to win the lottery.
I get really restless about going to work at the McSpa, gripe about it endlessly and lament how little they pay.
Jessica pointed this out to me the last time it happened, and asked if I had enough money to make the mortgage that month, because the last time I had gone a little lottery crazy I didn't, and ended up paying late fees and catching up, which really hurt financially.
She is observant.
Abraham would say that I shouldn't tie my hopes to one possible source of income--that I should focus on the money I want and feel that I already have it and not worry about where it comes from. I'm not really sure where else a sudden influx of funds might come from that would allow me to invest more fully in our own business and pay off my debts, but maybe it's due to lack of imagination.
Actually, I do have an idea. In my dream world I'm a successful novelist. It would help if I worked on my novel, though, and there you have it.
Proponents of the law of attraction and other it-can-only-be-true-if-you-believe-it philosophies often point to Richard Bannister, and how everyone believed that a mile couldn't be run by a human in less than 4 minutes. Bannister convinced himself that it was possible, accomplished the feat, and soon several other runners also broke the 4 minute mile barrier.
The question is, if you really believe it can happen, can it really happen? Or is it only that if you really believe it can't happen, that belief stops you?
Skeptics point out druggies who jump off of roofs because they really believe they can fly, ending up with broken bones or worse. If I believed I could fly, I would try lifting up off the ground. Much more impressive. Plus, that's how Sally Field did it, and she's pretty awesome.
What's interesting here is that, thanks to Wilbur and Orville, we can fly. Maybe not without a lot of accoutrements, but it's doable. Hell, my friend Chris is getting his pilot's license, and if he can fly . . . well, you get my point.
And then there's the issue of synchronicity. When we think about something a lot, do we really get more of that something, or do we just notice what's already there more? Would I have found a digital piano and an air compressor in a giveaway pile across the street if I hadn't been listening to Abraham?
On a slightly different note, would I have won $100 in that first scratch-off if I hadn't felt so lucky that day?
The overall attitude that Abraham promotes, you gotta admit, is good. Appreciate what you have, hope for better. The danger is that people (at least, I do) concentrate on the hoping for better and end up living in a fantasy world trying to make that real by just believing, not taking action if they're not in the Vortex, trying to minimize their own pain by pretending it's not there.
If you listen carefully, Abraham doesn't promote that. But you have to listen carefully.
Abraham says: Get into the Vortex, and then take action. Well, that's just common sense. If you're grumpy when you make a difficult phone call, your grumpiness is likely to show through and mess up the communication. If you're convinced you can't run a 4 minute mile but try anyway, chances are you won't make it. Sometimes I find that taking action when I don't feel like it gets me closer to the Vortex, though.
Abraham says: It is possible to be in the Vortex and to be in pain. It ain't easy, but it's possible. This only comes up when Abraham clears up past assertions that people have taken too far.
I should put some sort of transition sentence here, but I don't really feel like it. So there.
So what is it that I believe, and how can I change what I believe?
I believe I could write really good novels. I have no past experience with this, though, so I lean toward believing that I never will because I never have. I hear my father's voice taunting me about cleaning my room without being punished beforehand.
It's not my dad's fault, though, if I don't do what I want now. It's my own fault, but finding fault doesn't inspire me to change. It only discourages me.
I've only rarely benefited from an, "Oh, yeah? Well I'll show them!" attitude. I'm more likely to delve into creativity when I see someone else's and realize that I, too, can do that.
So . . . my belief is that creating my own reality is an active process. A process of encouraging myself, of believing that something's possible, of believing that the universe is a more or less benevolent place, and that shit happens, sometimes for the better, sometimes not. And, most importantly, that getting off my ass is a part of the creative process.
Belief is powerful.
My mom believes that I'm going to burn in hell for leaving the church and that lesbianism is why I left the church. I believe that arguing with her about that is only going to bring frustration and alienation. So it sits where it sits.
I also believe that if I believed that I could really make a living writing, I'd just do it. So should I convince myself that I could make a living writing, or should I convince myself that it doesn't matter whether I make a living at it or not? Or should I just force myself to write? I gotta admit, I really loved National Novel Writing Month. Loved writing every day, even if it wasn't the best work I've ever seen. Loved having a common goal with Jessica. Loved turning the television off to get our word quotas in. Loved sitting on the patio and typing away, like I am now, with a cup of coffee and a couple of spastic dogs distracting me. So why does it take a challenge like NaNoWriMo to get me to do it? (And why isn't there a National Novel Editing Month?) Why does it take signing up for a marathon to get me to run regularly?
But the real question is, how do you go about convincing yourself of anything without first doing whatever it is that you want to convince yourself is possible? Can I do anything like that without some sort of external prodding, like committing to NaNoWriMo or signing up for the Marine Corps Marathon?
Of course, it was I who committed to it, so it was an internal prodding more than anything.
I've signed up for online writing courses and it's not quite the same. Maybe there's a lack of adrenaline or something.
The workings of my own mind are pretty fucking convoluted. Sorry to bring you into my thought processes, but that's what this blog is for.
I like the idea of hypnosis to change my beliefs. Perhaps I should work on the belief that I need an external constraint to do what I want. Or perhaps I should invent external constraints to get me there.
I don't need guitar lessons to practice guitar, but I practiced a lot more when I took them. I don't need a marathon on the horizon to jog regularly, but it sure makes it more likely that I won't skive off on exercising.
The funny thing is, I really think I hate deadlines, but they seem to work wonders for me.
And what does that have to do with the Law of Attraction? It's that it's mostly about beliefs, and I believe that my beliefs hold me back. Maybe if I didn't believe in the power of beliefs that would open up more possibilities for me, except that I can't seem to let go of that belief, or of any other belief that I'm convinced I have.
No, wait. I have let go of beliefs. It was scary and liberating to let go of the belief that I'd go to hell if I let go of church--particularly the church I was raised in. And I did that through logic, a sort of a self-imposed cognitive therapy that I muddled through not really meaning to. I didn't want to let go of my faith, but I ended up having to.
I do want to let go of my ambivalence, my labile self-confidence, and I have all sorts of tools in the form of self-help books and hypnosis recordings with which to do it. The thing is, I want to push a button and upload the ability, a la The Matrix, yet I want to have the satisfaction of working through it on my own as well.
I am writing myself in circles, and bringing you with me. Do forgive. Standing on the outside, you probably see me much more clearly than I can.
I search for a higher perspective with which to see myself, but realize that I'm still holding onto the old one.
Perhaps enlightenment is the letting go of all beliefs.
I wonder what that would be like.
it's been a while
It's been a while since I've written here--just over a month, in fact. I must confess, it's partially because I suffered a severe disappointment regarding the world of Esther and Jerry Hicks.
Abraham speaks of Jerry having a business that he enjoys, and, out of curiosity, I googled Jerry to see what it might be. No results. So I went to the internet's most trusted source of biographical information, Wikipedia, and read up on them as a couple. Jerry's business, as it turns out, is Amway.
Amway.
Why, Jerry? Why?
Sigh.
So I tried to justify it in my mind, tell myself that Jerry isn't Abraham, that maybe pyramid schemes are ok in the greater cosmic order, that maybe there's something more about Amway that I don't get, but . . . well, I just don't get it. So I'll leave it at that, and blog away anyway.
Many things have happened in the world of faithy since last I posted. We got the space on 9th Street and are seeing clients there pretty regularly now. We got listed on the Duke employee discounts page and received a number of calls and a handful of new regular clients as well as a few one-time clients thanks to that, which is good because I managed to break not one but two computers, and Apples aren't cheap to fix. $404 for a wine spill on Jessica's MacBook after I had decided to fix the computer I'm typing on (which I didn't break, but I got for free so I figured it was worth fixing), and I'm still holding off on buying the $64 screen to replace the one I stepped on for my netbook.
We have reviewed our policy and procedures for where to leave our computers and liquid beverages and have come up with some workable solutions.
Meanwhile, I've been entertaining myself with Tal Ben-Shahar's The Pursuit of Perfect on Audible. It's quite good--he tells the story of his journey toward "optimalism" (the pursuit of the best given the circumstances you're in) from perfectionism (I think we all know what that means), and gives some helpful tips on how you, too, can become healthier and happier in that way. (My Amazon associates thingy isn't accepting my request to add a link here, so just know that it's out there.)
It's interesting. I hadn't really gone looking for a book on perfectionism; I'd just heard good stuff about Ben-Shahar and wanted to hear what he had to say. I must say, though, that he still sees the world a little bit like a perfectionist, in a bit of an either-or way. You either subscribe to Plato's perfectionistic philosophy, or Aristotle's realistic philosophy, and there is no in-between (at least, that's the way it sounds to me). And while he still pursues inner peace, he seems to doubt that it can truly exist; he seems to believe that inner peace means no suffering, and we wouldn't be truly human without some suffering.
My philosophy is that you can suffer and still have inner peace. (Interestingly enough, Abraham mentioned something along those lines in a seminar I was listening to a couple of weeks ago--you can be in pain and be in the Vortex at the same time.)
Evidence of my greatest growing experience, in fact, came years ago, when I was newly out, and broken-hearted again over some woman who wouldn't have me, and I could feel the pain in my chest and my fingers that comes with disappointment and self-questioning, and I knew that that pain was better than the numbness I had felt for years when I denied myself, denied my true feelings and questions about life and god and sexuality. I cried, and loved the feeling of crying, loved the feeling of pain that I had, loved that I was able to acknowledge it and loved that it meant that life's joys would be felt more sharply as well.
It wasn't a masochistic sort of thing. I didn't want the pain to go on unnecessarily, and I was pretty miserable in the process, but I had my first taste of true inner peace with that: peace in knowing that pain is only pain, and that it would pass, and in the meantime only someone who is truly alive can feel it.
Ben-Shahar speaks of that, particularly of the idea that greater pain opens greater possibilities for joy, but he doesn't equate it with inner peace, which is where I differ.
In Herman Hesse's Siddharta, Siddharta only reaches enlightenment when he embraces suffering and joy all at once. So I admit I didn't come up with the concept, but it rings true to me.
So that's there. I also listened to Biocentrism by Robert Lanza and Bob Berman, which I think would have gone better had the narrator not sounded a bit like Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation. He's a brilliant man who has lived a fascinating life, but the narration sounded a bit condescending and I would have liked to have heard the author read it for more authenticity. Really interesting concepts about consciousness, the nature of time and the origin of the universe which still, though, leaves the question, "Where did consciousness come from?" Of course, perhaps consciousness can't find its own origins because of the nature of consciousness.
Next on my list is Geoff Colvin's Talent is Overrated, if you're curious. I really enjoyed Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers, and apparently this one is a more practical guide to developing your own skills toward success at whatever you want to achieve.
Next up: thoughts on the nature of the law of attraction. I think this post is long enough.
Abraham speaks of Jerry having a business that he enjoys, and, out of curiosity, I googled Jerry to see what it might be. No results. So I went to the internet's most trusted source of biographical information, Wikipedia, and read up on them as a couple. Jerry's business, as it turns out, is Amway.
Amway.
Why, Jerry? Why?
Sigh.
So I tried to justify it in my mind, tell myself that Jerry isn't Abraham, that maybe pyramid schemes are ok in the greater cosmic order, that maybe there's something more about Amway that I don't get, but . . . well, I just don't get it. So I'll leave it at that, and blog away anyway.
Many things have happened in the world of faithy since last I posted. We got the space on 9th Street and are seeing clients there pretty regularly now. We got listed on the Duke employee discounts page and received a number of calls and a handful of new regular clients as well as a few one-time clients thanks to that, which is good because I managed to break not one but two computers, and Apples aren't cheap to fix. $404 for a wine spill on Jessica's MacBook after I had decided to fix the computer I'm typing on (which I didn't break, but I got for free so I figured it was worth fixing), and I'm still holding off on buying the $64 screen to replace the one I stepped on for my netbook.
We have reviewed our policy and procedures for where to leave our computers and liquid beverages and have come up with some workable solutions.
Meanwhile, I've been entertaining myself with Tal Ben-Shahar's The Pursuit of Perfect on Audible. It's quite good--he tells the story of his journey toward "optimalism" (the pursuit of the best given the circumstances you're in) from perfectionism (I think we all know what that means), and gives some helpful tips on how you, too, can become healthier and happier in that way. (My Amazon associates thingy isn't accepting my request to add a link here, so just know that it's out there.)
It's interesting. I hadn't really gone looking for a book on perfectionism; I'd just heard good stuff about Ben-Shahar and wanted to hear what he had to say. I must say, though, that he still sees the world a little bit like a perfectionist, in a bit of an either-or way. You either subscribe to Plato's perfectionistic philosophy, or Aristotle's realistic philosophy, and there is no in-between (at least, that's the way it sounds to me). And while he still pursues inner peace, he seems to doubt that it can truly exist; he seems to believe that inner peace means no suffering, and we wouldn't be truly human without some suffering.
My philosophy is that you can suffer and still have inner peace. (Interestingly enough, Abraham mentioned something along those lines in a seminar I was listening to a couple of weeks ago--you can be in pain and be in the Vortex at the same time.)
Evidence of my greatest growing experience, in fact, came years ago, when I was newly out, and broken-hearted again over some woman who wouldn't have me, and I could feel the pain in my chest and my fingers that comes with disappointment and self-questioning, and I knew that that pain was better than the numbness I had felt for years when I denied myself, denied my true feelings and questions about life and god and sexuality. I cried, and loved the feeling of crying, loved the feeling of pain that I had, loved that I was able to acknowledge it and loved that it meant that life's joys would be felt more sharply as well.
It wasn't a masochistic sort of thing. I didn't want the pain to go on unnecessarily, and I was pretty miserable in the process, but I had my first taste of true inner peace with that: peace in knowing that pain is only pain, and that it would pass, and in the meantime only someone who is truly alive can feel it.
Ben-Shahar speaks of that, particularly of the idea that greater pain opens greater possibilities for joy, but he doesn't equate it with inner peace, which is where I differ.
In Herman Hesse's Siddharta, Siddharta only reaches enlightenment when he embraces suffering and joy all at once. So I admit I didn't come up with the concept, but it rings true to me.
So that's there. I also listened to Biocentrism by Robert Lanza and Bob Berman, which I think would have gone better had the narrator not sounded a bit like Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation. He's a brilliant man who has lived a fascinating life, but the narration sounded a bit condescending and I would have liked to have heard the author read it for more authenticity. Really interesting concepts about consciousness, the nature of time and the origin of the universe which still, though, leaves the question, "Where did consciousness come from?" Of course, perhaps consciousness can't find its own origins because of the nature of consciousness.
Next on my list is Geoff Colvin's Talent is Overrated, if you're curious. I really enjoyed Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers, and apparently this one is a more practical guide to developing your own skills toward success at whatever you want to achieve.
Next up: thoughts on the nature of the law of attraction. I think this post is long enough.
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