2022: My Year of Adventure

Yup, that’s right, my word for the year ahead is Adventure! I got Christmas gifts (thanks, kids) to help me take, write about, and savour new adventures. As I wrap up my day job, people wish me well on my next adventures, and – after almost two years of rarely leaving my house (okay, neighbourhood) – I am making it official: 2022 will be my year of adventure*.

*This does not preclude every other year also being full of adventures. One year at a time, people.

My adventures may be close to (in) my home, and hopefully some of them will also be further afield. I’ll see how well we can ride the omicron/booster/FFS wave as it grows and crests and crashes along with our angst.

Let’s Start with a Definition

I’m enjoying being a homebody but still want excitement, so let’s consider what defines an experience as an adventure. There’s usually an element of risk, and, well, breathing is risky these days so I can check that one off the list. Chesterton defines it as “an inconvenience rightly considered”, and yes, taking the subway the wrong direction once led me to meet the cutest NYC rat ever, but the defining bit wasn’t the inconvenience, it was the novelty.

“An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered.”

G.K. Chesterton

There is such excitement to seeing, hearing, tasting, and feeling new things (I know there are five senses, but smelling new things does not sound good. Then again, nothing matches the delight of salty sea air, so I’m on the fence about including it.) That’s why my default understanding of “adventure” always equalled “travelling”.

Going to new places is the easiest way to satiate for my need-for-new, but I’m learning that it’s not the only way. A simple walk can be an adventure if I add an element of “new” to it. Trying new foods, reading new types of books, and trying new activities are all within reach, no matter the variant circulating or restrictions imposed.

I Cannot Resist

Next, why is adventure so appealing to me? I have a reflex reaction to the word. A restaurant can guarantee I’ll order a dish by including goat cheese (I don’t even read the rest of the menu if they call it chèvre; basic science says it’s tastier in french), and friends know I will join in anything they call an adventure. Resistance is futile. Adventure = yes, please, no need for dessert.

I am drawn to the celebration of any experience. The more uncertain life feels, the more I want to squeeze out of all the moments, making them matter. Enjoying an experience as an adventure means paying attention, feeling present in it, and being grateful for the chance to feel all the emotions it brings. Yes, if you convince me that helping you move will be an adventure, I will be there, mask on, finding the humour and humanity in it while I lug boxes.

❤️ The Results of Adventures

Just before the pandemic started, I found myself doing performance art (!) involving wrestling (!?) with a group of much-younger-than-me people. I was there because the artist said it would be a fun adventure. She was right, of course, and I am thrilled to say yes to the uncomfortable and unknown. I’d met the artist years earlier through her random classified ad for a school project, and I’ve had other adventures through ads (The Joy of Quirky Kijiji) – one favourite started with “Buckle up, this is a weird one,” – again, resistance is futile, bring me the chèvre. You may be relieved (or not, maybe you like drama) to know that I stay off dating apps, can you imagine the trouble I’d get into?

One of my most cherished friendships started on a work-related drive that went wrong, and therefore so right.

A small house-like building with wagon wheels out front and a sign saying "Jule's Diner, Good Food".
Adventuring is hungry work – this was a welcomed sight when the GPS let us down.

Welcome, 2022

What adventures will 2022 bring? Inconveniences for sure, and planned fun too, maybe even a few trips. Because I’ll have more time and flexibility, I’m building routines to include things I like having in my life – family & friends, outdoors, exercise, writing – and the big word I’m taping to the front of my notebook? ADVENTURE. Every day, I’ll find a way to rightly consider doing something new.

Happy New Year, everyone!!

An Uncertainty of Time

You know how late December is always so disorienting? With the changes in routines, and food, and travel, and weird work schedules, and afternoon sunsets, it’s an odd limbo even in precedented times. Add in wave after wave of covid, and it seems like living in limbo is the new routine.

On top of that, I have my own surge of changes ahead, so I feel like I’m living in a sci-fi movie’s broken space-time continuum (or, for fans of The Good Place, on the dot of Jeremy Bearimy). I not only struggle to know what day (or year) it is, I also wonder what time I should be counting: Am I counting down? Counting up? Does “up” mean forward or back in time? Wasn’t it just yesterday I was asking these questions as a 20-year-old (in, ahem, a slightly mind-altered state)?

Me (a white woman with short blonde hair) smiling as I pass under a limbo pole with two men behind and in front of me to help
20-year old me, leaning into the limbo

I’m leaving my full-time job of 30+ years at the end of January. Each day my head and heart are a swirl of nostalgia, immediate pressures (I’m a little overwhelmed by the 10,000 emails to sift through), January wrap-up plans, February plans (spoiler: DO NOTHING), and all the possibilities for my future. During a pandemic. During the holidays. While Mother Earth demands our attention in increasingly desperate and dramatic ways.

Here’s how I’m trying to stay (vaguely) grounded in the present moment.

Minimizing *Everything*

We have very few social events this year, we’re not travelling, and we’re keeping gifts to a fun few. We’re saving up any cravings for excess to blow it all going wild with our Brunchapalooza – started last year to make up for no family visits or meals, and involving, well, pretty much what you’d expect a celebratory brunch feast to include. The less going on around me, the easier I find it to pause, notice, and savour.

Where I Can’t Minimize, I Focus

My usual strategies for pacing my work out over time aren’t effective when I have such a finite deadline. I have to pick a priority (easier to do when I’ve done my minimizing and have clarity about what truly needs to be done) and then pretend nothing else in the world exists while I work on it. For me, a clear workspace, clear computer desktop and well-fed cats are the secrets to tuning out the chaos. When my mind and eyes see only the one thing in front of me, there is no Jeremy Bearimy, no broken timeline swirling.

Planning Nostalgia Time

I have to do health and safety inspections at my workplace, and honestly, the building is immaculate so there’s time for reflection. When doing this walk through recently with a colleague who was also retiring, we took the time to remember our decades of history there. Saying goodbyes to places and memories and emotions seems to free them, lift them away from being background noise in my head.

Going Offline

This is hard to do, making me realize how important it is. I love the analogue world – I can read, write, hike, dance, meditate, stretch, tidy and do puzzles so happily – but I forget. I feel the pull of google, twitter, texting, email, news, and Jorts the cat, but every single time I turn it all off for a day, my entire being feels grounded and calm. Every time.

Having All the Time in the World for People

Lockdowns and working from home gave me the bittersweet chance to really miss people. I enjoy people and I enjoy being alone and wow did the balance skew too far even for the loner in me. I am relishing my interactions, especially the rare in-person ones, and to truly appreciate each bit of time with people, I give them my all. Undivided attention = infinite time.

Living in limbo is disorienting, and my excitement about my unpredictable future is happy but tiring. The place I find stillness is whatever dot of time I’m in at the moment, letting the twists ahead and behind fade out of focus. My potato of a cat is snoring, the bit of snow on the ground matches the grey-white sky, and my coffee is hot. All that’s missing is you, my friends. I hope you’re warm and well while we share this moment. ❤️

Me bending under a limbo pole.
I do seem to find myself in limbo pretty often 🙂

A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Words

… but doesn’t tell the whole story

I was cataloguing old photos, the way one does when pandemic-bored, and instead of bringing nostalgic joy, scrolling through years of smiling faces left me unsettled. Look at those Halloween costumes! All those trips! Those marathons and trail races, those work events and school shows, boyfriends and dinner dates. Look at me doing renovations, redecorating, decluttering. When and how did I have the energy to do all these things? Past Karen is intimidating the heck out of Present Karen.

a screenshot of many dozens of photos of kids, water, cats, birthday cakes and other things that are hard to make out
So much joy!

I have some insight into how Past Karen was feeling though, and she won’t mind if I tell you that she found life hard. I know this, I’ve written about this, and yet, seeing how happy she was in those pictures makes it hard to believe, or remember. My inner voice kept telling me that she led a great life, and my current life is a failure. 

Here are the ideas that helped me feel good about Past Karen and about now. (“Present Karen” sounds like someone who hands out gifts, right? I can’t type it without picturing boxes with ribbons and bows.)

That Happiness Was Real

This isn’t a case of staging photos for sponsored Instagram* posts; the photos weren’t fake in any way. The smiles were real – if tired at times – and I enjoyed those times so much. A little bit of gratitude for having so much happiness in my life goes a long way.

Remembering How I Chose What to Keep

In my minimalist way, I delete vastly more photos than I keep. I might take twenty shots of a hike with the kids but save only one. On a big trip, I’ll take hundreds maybe, but I’ll delete all but ten or so. It is possible I have a thousand pictures of my cats, but I have thousands more in the trash.

a ginger cat and black-striped cat sleeping together on a couch
gratuitous cat picture

My thought process as I cull the pictures is to first mark the ones that make me gasp with joy as favourites, then justify saving a couple of others to remind me of views or moods I’ll want to return to. I have so very many short videos of waves lapping or crashing, my canoe gliding through morning mist, and wind making trees dance; I use them as backdrops for meditation or to settle me when I’m flustered – but oops, that’s a tangent, not the point here.

Of course scrolling through screens of gasp-with-joy moments will paint a pretty picture of my life.

Remembering What Isn’t There

I have no photos of insomnia. Of messy crying. My gut dropping with fear. Heartbreak. Illness – well, I do have one of my adorably pouty look from that time I was stung twice by a jellyfish and thought I’d been stabbed and would bleed to death in the ocean, but I don’t have one of the rash that rose up every time I shaved my legs for literally years afterwards. I stopped shaving my legs, problem solved.

I do have a bazillion shots of my kids (even more than the cats), and I did take one of my son as a tiny toddler, crying. I kept it for a while (but don’t seem to have it anymore) because I realized that although he spent his days mostly fussing and frustrated, all the photos I had were of his (so very sweet) smiling face. He’s a chill young man now, and I don’t keep ones now if I happen to catch him in a grimace or frown. None of us smile all the time, but why would I keep pictures that make me feel sad or bad? 

young boy with paper glasses saying Happy Birthday, scooping ice cream out of his bowl and making an excited expression
find yourself someone who looks at you the way Andrew looks at birthday cake

The Wonder of this Newfangled Technology

Being able to take photos on the spot, see them, edit them and take a bunch more, is fantastic. Ditto for the ease with which we can share them. I remind myself (and my kids when they’re trapped in the car with me) not to take this ease for granted, and to consider how it’s changed the way we remember things. Before smartphones, I rarely had a camera/film/batteries/SD card with me, so did all those un-photographed moments happen? Do I remember them? If I had no photos of my life, would I feel like Present Karen (🎁) was a failure? PFFFFFFT!! No way. 

Past Karen would be so very proud of me.

young woman in a blue bathing suit, pouting, with one leg stretched out with white cream on it in two places
anguish in Antigua

*If you’re wondering what happened to my Instagram account, I closed it – it was just time for me to move on, nothing dramatic (and lol at the idea of sponsored posts, I think I had 50 followers and many of those were random internet men/bots filling DMs with inspired lines like, “Hi beautiful, how’s it going?”). I left facebook years ago too, and honestly, if you’re considering leaving, I highly recommend it. I haven’t missed it at all, and that is one corporation I’m glad to be away from. I freed up all the time and mental energy I’d spent planning posts, wondering how others liked them, and scrolling through mess to find the few interesting bits … well, like I said, if you’ve thought about deleting your account, this is your reassurance that life without it is a relief.

Injustice and Self-pity

I was feeling sorry for myself about an obvious (though petty) injustice and replayed the offending scenario over and over again in my mind, making it clearer each time that I was the victim, and linking it to all the other times I’ve been mistreated. I called out to the Universe, asking it to explain itself (and to ask its pronouns too, seems likely to be they/them) and its (their?) role in this upsetting situation that is clearly part of a pattern. The Universe replied by sending this letter through my fountain pen into my notebook. They’re clever, eh?

Dear Karen,

I am writing to you on behalf of the office of The Universe, the omnipresent “What Is”. The purpose of my letter is to confirm what you work so hard to prove: You are right. You have been wronged and it was not fair. You have been misunderstood, devalued, taken advantage of, and unjustly treated.

You no longer need to seek evidence to prove these things to yourself or to anyone else. All your feelings are real and understandable. This letter stands as full acknowledgement of the bad things that happened and were done to you. Read it whenever you need validation.

I would be remiss, however, if I did not call attention to two further points.

The first is that you have wronged others. You have misunderstood, devalued, taken advantage of, and unjustly treated others. It was not fair.

The second and final point is this: You are not powerless. I hereby bestow upon you the knowledge that you choose how to respond to any injustice. You may seek redress for harms done to you, or you may not. You may atone for harms you cause, or you may not (though really, it does seem like a healthy thing to do). Maybe you’ll fight against big injustices, or keep your focus on helping those affected by them. What you can stop doing is trying to prove that your feelings are valid: They are.

We are not staffed with the capacity to keep track or score of what’s been done to whom and who’s made reparations or not – can you imagine the paperwork?! It is up to you personally to know what path to take forward. You are not alone in this; you are a cherished part of families, communities, and all of humanity who will support and advise you. As you know from experience, the warmth of community eases the pain of trauma.

No one can see what lies ahead, but I guarantee there will be further injustices. I do see you becoming ever more thoughtful and compassionate in how you respond to them. On behalf of us all, thank you for that.

With kindness and love,

The Universe (they/them)

ps. Please share this with anyone else who needs to hear it. Not everyone has a fountain pen.

Retreat to Expand

In a couple of weeks, I’m heading out for a few days alone in a rustic cabin in a provincial campground on the luminous Lake Huron. I had ideas about what I could do there, and realized instead, I will use my time to be. I’m giving myself a retreat.

I have a long to-do list well-suited to a quiet cabin, and could easily fill the days with reading, writing, and outdoor activities – I did that with the kids at a cottage in the summer, and enjoyed the relaxation of being unplugged. I *know* though that pushing ahead is not the way for me to grow right now. I can’t ignore all the unprocessed emotions bubbling up every time I pause or hear kind words. Do you have tears close to the surface? I do, and they’re a sign. I’m crying easily and often. Some are tears of joy and connection – I’m still riding the high of those first vaccinated hugs – but I have a lot of shit to process. Old shit, newer shit, future-worry shit, all of it. The mental and emotional clutter is holding me back from the calm stillness where I can grow, expand, and refresh my spirit.

I will be alone at the cabin, but none of us are alone on this journey. I have expert guides and beloved friends who see me.

boardwalk, trees, dunes, and water in the distance
boardwalk over the dunes to the lake at the Pinery

Here are the elements of my retreat

Acceptance

I will welcome all thoughts and feelings, and sit in the discomfort and even pain that they bring. My guides here are Tara Brach with her book Radical Acceptance and a workshop I did with Elizabeth Gilbert where my fear wrote me a letter (and she often writes letters to Love, who writes her back – such a healing practice). I remember an online event where Jennifer Pastiloff (who wrote On Being Human) had me write a letter to my stomach, and her bounty of love carries me and my body parts forward. Also, I hear almost every yoga teacher I’ve ever had, reminding me to notice each bit of tension or ease in my body and breathe into it.

In practical terms, I’ll make space for all this bubbling up and noticing to happen through meditations, yoga, walking meditations, and letter writing. I’m sorting out a playlist of guided meditations beforehand, with some from Tara Brach, Insight Timer, and Headspace. I will also do my own silent meditations, which I call “commit to stillness”, typically outdoors, and they don’t last long, but even in just a couple of minutes I’m usually swimming in until-then neglected feelings.

mug with the word mindful against water and trees background
I’ll have a friend’s gift – my mindful mug that matches my lake.

Release

When I’ve done this before, I find many emotions, habits or memories are simply ready to go, to leave me. They needed my acknowledgement and that’s it – poof, they’re away. Others I definitely need to sit with for more time. There are usually a few in the middle that I might try to release, and they let me know if that’s going to work out or not 😊.

One of my guides for this is HeatherAsh Amara (Warrior Goddess) with her ideas about “purifying my vessel” (to be honest, that sounds like a feminine hygiene activity, so I use my own, more pragmatic words like “decluttering” and “release” to encompass her ideas.)

My ritual for this is so very close to my heart (I’ve written about it before). I go to water – big water if possible; our local river tries its best, but just isn’t the same – and call out the thing I’m releasing. I send it out into the water, to blend in with the unfathomable volume of other memories and emotions swirling about there. I like the big water as a reminder of how tiny and small all these energies are. I’ve let them grow large inside me sometimes, but they’re each a speck engulfed by the waves. Also, waves are fleeting, existing for a moment then no longer there. They’re a lesson in impermanence and they tell me that those pieces I’m holding onto inside for a bit longer will eventually roll on out too. Mostly, I love the nurturing shushing of the water, mothering me with comforting whispers that it’s all going to be all right.

Like I said, not everything I release stays out there. I remember one habit I was trying to release that the ocean waves sent back and back and back to my feet. It simply wasn’t the right time. The right time did come, years later, for that one to go, so I do trust in the process.

Waves
Waves of Freedom (from my first ritual of release, in Victoria, BC)

Being Alone to be Better Company

So, I retreat to expand my heart. I’ll return with a clearer soul, perhaps some pain to sit with, but it won’t be trapped or repressed anymore, we’ll get some light on it and breath into it, and my spirit will be a Great Lake of calm peace. If you’re in your own place of trapped feelings or teary-ness or just drooling at the idea of being alone and off grid, know I’m sending my energy to you too. We’re all in this together. Namaste.

I Need a Plan(ner)

For years I had a simple planner system I loved. It was just the right mix of ink-on-paper, creative doodling, and handy portable calendar for organizing my pre-pandemic life. Finding that planner and system was a bit of its own miracle – I’d never gone more than a few months with a planner or organizer before being seduced by a different one. Along came the Passion Planner and stability (I wrote about in a blog post and was invited to write about it on another blog as well at RediscoverAnalog). Alas, life changes and as my fave Leonard Nimoy said (tweeted actually, but that seems less poetic) just before he died,

Tweet from @TheRealNimoy saying, "A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP"
Live long and prosper 🖖

Unprecedented and Unplanned Times

With the pandemic, my needs changed. I didn’t need a planner that held all the possible information I might need while away at the office for eight hours. I didn’t need something portable at all – the commute from my dining table workspace to my bedroom workspace is not particularly harrowing. 

I found I was making a lot more random lists, and of course the lines between home tasks and work tasks blurred/melted/spontaneously combusted. I also went back to school as well as continuing my full-time job and freelance work. The idea of goals and planning steps toward those goals went out the window, along with all our plans. My daughter’s school schedule (sometimes in person, sometimes remote, never full days, rarely full weeks) changed *nine* times during the school year. I tried to adapt how I used my beloved planner, but it wasn’t meeting my unprecedented needs.

AND

I’m changing my life in a big way in 2022. I’m retiring from my day job, building up my freelance work, and probably taking a part-time job too. (I do have two kids to get through university, and a lot of energy 😄). Who knows how/if I will plan all that? I need something flexible, that’s all I know.

SO

I decided to try out ALL THE PLANNERS!!!!!!!

I didn’t even limit myself (haha as if I would) to bound organizers or binders or notebooks. Why not a desk pad calendar? Maybe sticky notes? What about detachable pages in a pretty little book. What about a pretty big book? Pocket size? 

Side Note About the Distinct Lack of Minimalism

I make up for minimalism in much of my life by having *oodles* of pens and notebooks. And pads, and sticky notes, and markers, and you get the idea. I love them and use them daily, so I don’t usually fret about the maximalism; it doesn’t seem wasteful.

Wasteful, however, seems to have seeped into my planner world. I was going to take a picture of each of the planner items I’ve accumulated, but that would crash my website. Here is a group photo of the, um, handful? pile? hoard? of organizers and planners I have. To add to my embarrassment, I have another two pads on the way (they are BEAUTIFUL – check out bookbindersdesign.com in Sweden – none of these are affiliate links or anything, just excitement). Oops, I mean, if you want to make an well-thought-out intentional choice to bring new material belongings into your life, these would be an option to consider. 🙃

Messy pile of calendars, planners, sticky notes, and pads with a 'week-at-a-glance'.
I might have overdone things

Your reward for reading this far is to claim any of the (many) unused or barely-used items I have left. If you see anything you like in the photo above, let me know! All stationery deserves an appreciative home. 🙂 Seriously, I will happily send you my extras, just ask.

Back to the Planners

I experimented with varying sizes and types of my beloved Passion Planner (they have free pdf templates online), the Panda Pro, and I ended up designing my own pages for a filofax organizer binder. I found it tedious to print and cut the pages though, never mind that the paper is nowhere near the quality I want – at least the designing was fun!

I’m currently trying out – with great success, but it’s early days – the filofax notebook system. It’s got movable pages and is less calendar-y than the others, so it suits me and all my lists. The internet tells me that my pretty notebook will fit pages from similar-sized disc notebook systems, but so far I’m happy with the types of pages and calendars I have for it. I am looking forward to the days of doodling all my ideas for trips.

Medium-size notebook with colourful leaves on the front.
Ding ding ding! We have a winner! 🏆

What I Learned

My process is to open my planner in the morning, say hello to myself, and think about what needs to get done that day, what I want to get done, and how I want to approach the world. Here are the things I need/want a place for:

  • Word(s) of the day to give me focus.
  • Dinner. It’s not helpful to remember to thaw something at 4 pm.
  • Three priorities. Only three, otherwise the word “priority” is a bit too watered down.
  • Lists of non-priorities that may or may not get done that day, but are easy to find the next day. Or the next week. Or month.
  • Frequently used lists, like my monthly ritual or a class outline, that I use to plan my tasks.
  • Meetings and appointments, but not too much space for this – they’re in my phone/computer too, I just want a general way to picture the shape of my day.
  • Quick visual of my kids’ schedules, again no details needed here.
  • Long-term planning (hahahahahahahaha, good one, COVID).
  • Tasks – like putting the garbage out or paying a credit card that doesn’t have auto-pay – that need to be done on a certain day. [FUN FACT: Our garbage collection is every six business days. It is a different day every week and gets extra confusing when there are holidays. If you live in a place (anywhere but London, Ontario probably) that has a regular schedule, pause to give that predictability some appreciation right now.]
  • Reminder to reflect on what went well or didn’t, maybe a gratitude list.
  • Dreaming. In the Passion Planner it’s called the “space of infinite possibility” and every planner – every life – needs that!

I’ll update you next year (I put a note in my planner to do that), so we’ll see how long I stick with my current system. I did promise myself to not spend another penny on planner items, so that may motivate me!

No More Mousing Around

You can skip this post if you’re not interested in me nerd-ing out about keyboard shortcuts. 😄

It’s All About Accessibility (and efficiency)

Many computer users can’t/don’t use a mouse to navigate around on the computer. Some use the keyboard only, some use alternate access devices or software to read and move through pages with switches or voice commands, and some get irritated at the inefficiency of taking their hands off the keyboard when they’re working away in the zone – in flow.

For computer files and websites to be accessible to everyone, they need to be navigable (is that a word?) by keyboard only. Go ahead, try and tab through the menu items on a few sites and see how you would do without your mouse.

I spend whole days immersed in documents in MS Word – on a PC and increasingly on my Mac – often doing fairly repetitive things like formatting references for academic papers. My bliss is finding ways to do that quickly and consistently without having to figure out where my fingers and mouse cursor are and where I need them to be. In other words, I live for keyboard shortcuts.

How to Remember ALL THE SHORTCUTS?

Before my son turned 19 (yes, I’ll explain), I had a system that was less than stellar for when I switched from a PC (work office) to a Mac (home office) and my motor memory wasn’t enough to do things efficiently. I had all these little sticky notes with shortcuts I found helpful but didn’t use often enough to drill them into my brain. I didn’t like the notes because they had things like “CTRL+OPT+SPACE = emojis” which, while accurate, wasn’t very time-saving if I had to lift my hands up to figure out which was the option key each time. I rely on my fingers knowing where to go, not knowing my CMD from my CTRL or my ⌘ from my ~. AND, the messy little notes listed the shortcuts first instead of what I was trying to do, so my brain took a while to find the relevant cue each time. Thank goodness for my son’s birthday.

The Birthday

My new system has nothing to do with my son really, it was my daughter that (indirectly) made my life much simpler. She is a brilliant artist and in honour of the keyboard-related gifts for her brother’s birthday, she made this card.

hand-drawn keyboard with the letters on the keys saying "Happy 19th Birthday Andrew"
Her gift for him was a mechanical number-pad keyboard 🙂

AHA!!

I am quite sure I’m not the first person to think of depicting shortcuts in a more visual way, but it was a new concept to me and I got to work drawing my own keyboard.

hand-drawn keyboard on graph paper
perfect use for these adorable MUJI graph paper sticky notes

Then I added some colour coding.

hand-drawn keyboard on graph paper with coloured borders around some of the letters and explanations before
hmmmm not looking as good as it did in my head

It didn’t make my heart sing.

Luckily, I also know lots of shortcuts in Adobe Illustrator, so I was able to make a much better version. (Truth be told, I use the mouse all the time in Illustrator – moving objects around to the perfect spot is quite satisfying.)

My New System

I made a table with the function I’m trying to achieve, the shortcut keys, and a pretty picture for the ones with three or more keys to press. You can download the document from the bottom of the page if you’re interested – it’s a Word doc because making a pdf accessible is its own circle of hell. Here’s what a clip of it looks like:

screenshot of a table listing functions in Word (copying selected text with comments and track changes included) then the shortcut (Cmd+Fn+3) and a visual of the keyboard with those 3 keys highlighted.
so pretty

The Irony

Putting together this document was an excellent lesson, and now I seem to know all these shortcuts by heart. Maybe after a break I’ll need to refer to it again … or I’ll use the template I made in Illustrator to put together a birthday card or two 🙂

*Wear* have I been?!?

Coming up with a punny title, that’s where 😁

I’m writing about clothing shopping today – not a topic I usually pay much attention to, but bear with me, the story ends with peace, clarity, and comfy pants.

My relationship with clothing is complicated. My size changes year to year, I had limits on how I could dress at work, and well, I’m a woman and spent half my life feeling obligated to “look pretty”. Before the pandemic, I’d started to let go of others’ views about what I should wear (yay 😊 ) but the real epiphanies came during the lockdowns.

I don’t enjoy shopping, and spending money on obligatory clothes I didn’t actually like was never a priority. Living life more sustainably is important to me, so I did most of my shopping at secondhand and thrift shops. Like everyone, I had to shift to online shopping as the stay-at-home orders went on and clothes wore out or I grew out of them. I expected it to be a disaster, selecting clothes (especially pants!) from pictures of people who are shaped differently than I am. I was wrong. I’ve never been happier with my wardrobe than I am now.

Having a Uniform

I’m late to the uniform wardrobe game. Secondhand clothes are awesome for many reasons, but strengths are also often weaknesses. I’ve loved many unique pieces I found over the years, and it meant my wardrobe was always a system of mix and match. When a piece wore out – which, let’s face it, happens quickly with secondhand stuff – I’d find myself with a few other items that no longer had anything to go with. I’d move them into my group of ‘pending’ items, lonely pretty things waiting for a magical future when I’d have something to match them. I didn’t realize how convoluted the system was until it ended.

Last year, I’d bought a t-shirt dress online and found I was wearing it constantly. I worried about wearing it out too quickly, but since I’d bought it new … aha! … I could buy another one of the exact same thing. I did. This (obvious-to-everyone-but-me) strategy continued over the year, so when I found a tank top I reached for each day (at least each day that I wasn’t wearing one of my t-shirt dresses), I bought two more of them. My summer wardrobe is now two dresses, a few tank tops, t-shirts, two pairs of shorts, and a pair of light pants. I am happy every day and I don’t have to think about any of it. My previous pretties went to my daughter who is fabulously creative putting things together. I didn’t spend much money, and I actually shop less (as in *not at all* for months now) because what I have is so satisfying, I feel no need to buy anything. For the fall, I have heavier pants, sweaters to put over tees, and tunics with leggings already, nothing else needed.

It’s hard to describe how much peace I feel looking at my closet.

tidy closet with about 40 pieces of clothing hanging and a few folded items
I upgraded from old wire hangers to celebrate.

Bonus Joy

I won a sweepstakes through one of my online purchases: $500!! And the funny thing is, I can’t think of anything I want to get with it. I scrolled through all sorts of options, but none of them look as good as the things I already enjoy. My kids are pretty happy to boost their own wardrobes, especially since they’re fully vaccinated and starting to venture out into the world again.

Another, Totally Different Bonus

When I used to try clothes on at a store, it was in a little dressing room with a big mirror. At home, I try them on in my big bedroom with a little mirror … and the mirror isn’t even visible from the spot by the bed where I open the packages. This time, my aha moment came when I put on a pair of pants that felt amazing, like these-could-be-pajama-pants-I-wear-to-work amazing. I realized I didn’t even want to look in the mirror. It didn’t matter at all what they looked like, I was going to wear them all the time.

Now, I choose my clothes based on how they feel, not how they look (except polka dots, that’s just basic science, polka dots = little smiles all over). It took me 54 years to get here, and it’s a glorious place to be!

me (54-year-old woman with brown hair) wearing a blue polka-dot dress, smiling amongst greenery overlooking blue water
POLKA DOTS

p.s. My son’s punny title was “Closet Uniformity” – pretty good, but mine’s better, right?

A Cure Through Connection

I’ve been a bit out of sorts lately, particularly with my day job. I’m irritable and quick to judge. I wanted to reconnect with the person I want to be, my inner Karen of calm openness. As usual, I ended up wandering down a different path than I intended and found myself in a beautiful place. I set out to connect better with myself but ended up finding what I needed through connections with others.

A workshop popped up on my twitter feed, a zoom session with Tara Brach talking about her new book, Trusting the Gold. Tara is the author of a couple of books that (radically) changed how I am in the world: Radical Compassion and Radical Acceptance, so I eagerly signed up.

While I fiddled with my zoom settings to clear the clutter of hundreds of participants from my screen (muttering to myself, why would anyone leave their video on?), Tara told the story of the clay Buddha. Here’s my version:

Monks caring for a massive clay statue of Buddha were having difficulty caring for its frequent cracks. Despite their best efforts to maintain the clay, the cracks got deeper. One day, they noticed a warm glow coming from the deepest crack. They found that the statue itself was made of gold. The huge golden Buddha had been covered with dirt and clay to protect it during a time of danger. The monks had been working to maintain its cover long after the need for protection had ended.

We’ve all been covering ourselves for extra protection recently (not just literally! metaphorically!), and I’d been working on my protective shield so much that I’d forgotten the gold inside. When we did an exercise about a source of stress, I realized I’d been separating myself emotionally from my workplace and the people there. I’m taking early retirement at the end of the year, and I guess I’d started my internal goodbye process ahead of schedule. A bit of clay crumbled off me.

The zoom session continued. I stopped taking notes. I opened the gallery view and scrolled through, saying hello (on zoom-mute of course, but yes, out loud, my cats didn’t mind) to each of the participants. I cried as I did some of the meditations and could see others wiping away their own tears.

Near the end, one of the audience questions led Tara to do an exercise with a participant that was moving, intimate, and so relatable it felt like she was speaking to me personally.

After that, Tara asked us to scroll through the gallery view and simply look at someone and know they were wishing us well. I did the unthinkable and turned on my own video, so that someone could see me.

I am a hider, forever wishing for invisibility. My urge to let others see me was a landslide of clay falling away.

I have a golden Buddha inside me, yes, and its glow shines calmness through me. The magic I needed though, came from seeing hundreds of golden Buddhas glowing back at me. Connection. Acceptance. Compassion.

My steps are lighter today, my smile warmer. Let’s see how my work meetings go tomorrow 🙂 

Namaste.

Watch Out! I’m Writing Poetry Now

To start, here’s a prose poem inspired by a late night drive past fields of wind turbines. If you haven’t seen them, picture a landscape of red lights flashing in unison (or slightly out of unison) to alert airplanes to their tall presence. It is eerie.

Tilting at Windmills


Red lights blinking, eyes accusing from dark fields, with syncopated rhythm, they’re daring me to catch them off the beat. Mesmerized, chastised, I’m alone against dozens in this tug of war pulling my eyes from the road. The car draws close to pass an outsized monster, so regal, shining white in its green field by day, malicious spy by night. Its flashing gaze follows me; I challenge it back, to crack its pulse. I don’t remember flinching but it shines, intermittent, in my rearview mirror, triumphant. Haunted by lights in the dark, I drive on. I drive on to escape, to be safe, to see my truth. They mock my heartbeat. They mock my journey. They wake my ire, light fire in my heart. I cling to the road as it rises to show no end to synchronized armies – the horizon blinking, winking, spurring me to swerve. I follow the curve as it turns away from the fields, sinking down to the lake, and I plunge into black.

K. Lowry

Prose Poetry

I didn’t have a clear idea what a prose poem was before taking my current course on writing poetry, and reading samples was a revelation. They were exciting and dark and full of rhythmic imagery, I read and reread them out loud, over and over. Highly recommend.

Mark Wallace described prose poetry: “It comes into being at the axis of writing about things powerful people don’t want to hear in a way they don’t want to understand.” I assumed I would write something to challenge the patriarchy, systemic racism, or maybe take on all of capitalism. The ink in my pen had other ideas though, and took me to the disturbing experience of driving past the windmills at night. Don’t worry, toppling all those power structures is still high on my to-do list.

I May Never “Get” Poems the Way Others Do

I’ve written poems on and off for decades, never satisfied with them, occasionally pleased with a turn of phrase or a clever rhyme, but no more. I’ll probably cringe when I read the poem above in the future, even later this week as I get feedback from my classmates and instructor. But. The buzz. What a buzz! The more I worked on it, the more energy I got. I ended up on a rainy hike after it was done because I needed to burn off *all that*.

I’ve spent weeks in this poetry course feeling deflated. I often don’t understand the poems we study the way other people do, and most of my reading and writing is just so damn literal. I love poetry and read it all the time. I have poems I recite to myself for fun, I used lines as mantras, and I do word play as relaxation. In classwork though, I’m baffled at what I’ve missed in others’ poems and how my own are interpreted.

The success of enjoying my own work is twice as sweet now, having questioned if I belonged in the world of poetry at all. Of course I do, everyone does. There’s no right or wrong, or even a “too literal”. There’s a chance to re-live an experience or emotion and process it through the sounds and rhythms of words. Combinations of words capture ideas that didn’t have words before, connecting memories and feelings together in a way that names the ephemeral.

My teenagers are setting my poem to rap music right now, so, clearly there are two people who understand me and my words. 😁

Okay, okay, since you asked, here’s another. It’s a sonnet. It rhymes.

To The Child In The Cabin

Move swiftly now, with stealth, early riser.
Step to the dock, gently push off, be free.
Mist caresses as your green craft glides here;
water laps at its sides, reminds you, Breathe.

Treetops gather you the first morning rays,
guardians smiling as you paddle past.
Water glistens, like tears flow down your face
as you sigh relief, the calm bay of glass.

You’re safe here, child, embraced with each stroke,
loved here, darling, as yourself, to your core.
We cherished each moment since you awoke.
You’re free here, to flee the anger indoors.

Watch through the windows; we’ll soften with waves
the elements of fury you’re left to brave.

K. Lowry