Tag: creativity

Along For The Ride

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“Love doesn’t make the world go round. Love it what makes the ride worthwhile.” – Franklin P. Jones

When Vicki Atkinson first read my book about my beloved father, Finding My Father’s Faith, one of the things she remarked that she loved was the way he described riding on trains when he lived in India.

He was 24 or 25 years old, studying to get a Masters degree from Benares Hindu University. During his school breaks would travel around India third class, sitting on the floor like everyone else, and practicing his Hindi.

I admit I hadn’t thought at length about that aspect of my dad because that was just the guy he was. He didn’t proselytize, mention he was a pastor, or have any agenda – he just liked people. Whether he was golfing, hiking or riding mass transit, my dad enjoyed talking with his fellow travelers in this life.

I mention this because in this week’s podcast, Vicki and I talked with dear friend, marketing man, and creative guru, Eric Knudson about riding the bus.

Eric is a dear friend of mine and a master story-teller. I’ve known Eric for ten years and through the years, he’s regaled me with many stories. I can’t tease out exactly the formula but it’s some combination of his use of humor, timing, and detail that makes him so entertaining to listen to.

He also had the pleasure of knowing my dad and understanding what a whirlwind of energy and good-natured sociability he was.

So in this episode, he brings both his fantastic storytelling and a bit of my dad to a great story about a recent bus ride. It’s hilarious, dramatic, and full of fun. Here’s a sneak peek:

I’m certain you’ll enjoy the scenic and beautiful places we go when we share the power of story.

We know you’ll love it!

Check out the full podcast at: Episode 76: On the Bus with Eric Knudson

(featured photo from Pexels)

Links for this episode:

Vicki’s personal blog: Victoria Ponders

Wynne’s personal blog: Surprised by Joy

Vicki’s recently released book: Surviving Sue

Wynne’s book about her beloved father: Finding My Father’s Faith

Resilience and The Right Team

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“Children, marriages, and flower gardens reflect the kind of care that they get.” – H. Jackson Brown Jr.

I know it’s bad form to brag about your kids. So I’ll ask for your apology in advance. I want to set the expectations appropriately, and then still do exactly what I want to do. Because I was so inspired by my four-year-old that it seems worth passing along.

Two days ago, I saw my son, Mr. D, pull off an incredible feat of resilience. He went to an Aikido class expecting that he could test for his yellow belt. Not only did he expect this, but he’d told his teachers at school, and we’d gotten my mom to come to the class to watch. Plus his favorite person on the planet, his darling older sister, would be there.

But when he did his practice test, he screwed up the forward rolls. The Sensei is a very good teacher and won’t let anyone take the test until they’ve got it down. So, she let him know before his class started that he wouldn’t be able to test that day.

He lined up for class with his bottom lip quivering and he kept glancing at me to commiserate his disappointment. The crestfallen look on his face was enough that I felt like crying myself. But about halfway through the 50-minute class, he took a deep breath in, squared his shoulders, and visibly moved on from the disappointment.

By the end of class, he was fully participating and laughing. When we went home, he kept practicing the move he messed up. He was still only landing on the correct foot about fifty percent of the time.

Then yesterday morning, he popped up out of bed and wanted to show me his rolls. He thought hard about it, and nailed it. After about a half dozen correct ones, he announced he was ready to test. When we went to Aikido class yesterday afternoon, he stepped up and nailed the test.

Expectation, disappointment, then coming back to earn it – kids do these things in such quick succession that they make it look easy. It makes me wonder if as grown-ups we remember these are part of a cycle. We just have to keep rolling to get through it.

One other thing strikes me. Kids have a whole network of people cheering them on. Teachers, coaches, parents, grandparents, and often even random bystanders will jump in to tell them they’re doing great.

Which makes me wonder if adults have the same. Are we cultivating the friends, partners, colleagues, and mentors that help us continue to be resilient? Are we being those people for others? It might make all the difference.

Using It All Up

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“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left and could say, I used everything you gave me.” – Erma Bombeck

My dad had a motto, especially in his retirement years. “I just want to be useful.” And as a retired pastor, that translated to serving on boards, guest preaching, teaching classes, and family stuff like helping me with my house and yard on Saturdays.

And he was very useful. But his usefulness required a lot of flexibility on my mom’s part.

A month or so ago, my 85-year-old mom asked, “Did you see Eleanor Coppola’s obituary in the paper?”

I hadn’t, so we found it and she read me this part, “ ‘There is part of me that has been waiting for Francis to leave me, or die, so that I can get my life the way I want it,’ Eleanor wrote. ‘I wonder if I have the guts to get it the way I want with him in it.’ “

I have a theory – that a lot of women don’t use up all their talent as the quote for this post by Erma Bombeck so beautifully says. That isn’t to say that it doesn’t apply to men, too.

But when it comes to women, it seems that after a lifetime of being flexible for others (relationships, kids, pets), women don’t often get ASKED in the same way that men do. So then it becomes a doubly-hard question about creating life the way as envisioned because it involves crafting the persona, network, and possibly upsetting the status quo at home.

In the case of Eleanor Coppola, it turns out that she died at age 87 before Francis. But she directed her first feature film at age 80. I hope that means she was able to get life the way she wanted it with him in it. In fact, one more quote from her obituary makes me think he was nudging her along:

“ ‘One morning at the breakfast table my husband said, “Well, you should direct it.” I was totally startled,’ Eleanor told The AP. ‘But I said, “Well, I never wrote a script before, and I’ve never directed, why not?” I was kind of saying “why not” to everything.”

As we tune in the deep whisper urging us to be useful and share all our talents with the world, I think we should remember to ask, “Why not?“

(featured photo from Pexels)

Planning: The Vacation Edition

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“Plans are useless, but planning is invaluable.” – Winston Churchill

Miss O has been trying to predict the things she’ll tell her kids she didn’t have when she was young.

After watching a video and wishing she could smell what the person was holding up to the screen, eight-year-old Miss O said, “Someday I’ll be telling my kids that back in the day, we couldn’t smell our videos.”

Hey, it’s as good as anything I could come up with. In fact, I’m a terrible prognosticator. But I’m pretty good at figuring out a plan for things as they pop up.

Which made the podcast conversation Vicki and I had with blogger, writer, and planner, Brian Hannon, (Writing from the Heart with Brian) even more fun. Brian told us about how he plans family trips. He comes up with solid options and then his fellow travelers enthusiastically respond.

Well, that’s the idea at least. So, we talked about what it actually looks like to be a planner who is coaxing everyone along.

Brian brought forward the beautiful sense of calm that comes with having something on the horizon to look forward to. And we talked about how to blend planning and spontaneity.

This is a great podcast episode for the beginning of summer. Brian’s fantastic story-telling sparks our juices for how to enjoy our planned and unplanned vacations!

So I know you’ll enjoy the scenic and beautiful places we go when we share the power of story.

Here’s a sneak peek – you’ll love it! But don’t lean in – our videos don’t have any smell…yet!

Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts OR Listen to it from your computer on Anchor Episode 73: Planning It Out with Brian Hannon

Or subscribe to our YouTube channel to see a video clip of each story: @SharingtheHeartoftheMatter.

Links for this Episode:

Episode 73: Planning It Out with Brian Hannon on Anchor

Two Kinds of People by Brian Hannon

Brian’s blog: Writing from the Heart with Brian

Vicki’s personal blog: Victoria Ponders

Vicki’s recently released book: Surviving Sue

Wynne’s book about her beloved father: Finding My Father’s Faith

Other podcast episodes featuring Brian Hannon:

Episode 58: Creative Heart with Brian Hannon

Episode 44: Hot Tips for Writing About Family with Brian Hannon

Episode 34: How to Write Family Narratives with Brian Hannon

Episode 17: Building a Base with Brian Hannon

The Archetypes of Story

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“Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten.” – Neil Gaiman

This was originally published on 7/5/2023. Heads up – you may have already read this!

My kids have been clamoring for me to tell them stories at bedtime. They don’t want made up stories, they want real stories.

One of their favorite protagonists is Simon the Bad Cat. He was a character with a capital “C” – I adopted him from a neighbor when she moved. He proceeded to get into all sorts of trouble breaking into other people’s houses, picking on my dogs, and getting into cat fights. He lived a full life of 19 years and left behind a treasure trove of stories.

Telling these stories has made me think of the hypothesis that are a limited number of plot lines for our stories. I’ve heard this theory in several different ways from nine to twelve archetypal stories. But drawing from overview on Wikipedia of the work of Christopher Booker, The Seven Basic Plots: Why We Tell Stories here they are:

  • Overcoming the monster
  • Rags to riches
  • The quest
  • Voyage and return
  • Comedy
  • Tragedy
  • Rebirth

Can I fit the Simon stories into these categories? Here are our favorite bad cat stories:

Rebirth: Simon the cat got a claw stuck in between his shoulder blades while fighting another cat. It abscessed and made him so sick that I had to take him to the vet so they can drain the wound. Simon died on the operating table and they had to use kitty CPR to bring him back. Did the hero return home transformed as a wiser cat? Well, he did mend his fighting ways so that we never had to drain an abscess again.

Comedy: Five doors down was a neighbor named Steve who hated Simon because he was always getting into his stuff and messing it up. But it was a love/hate relationship because he noticed how smart Simon was as well. One day when Steve was showing some new tenants around the shared laundry room, he told them they must never leave the outside door open because there’s a bad cat that would get in. They pointed to a shelf right about Steve’s shoulder and asked, “Like that cat there?” and Steve turned around to see Simon smugly listening to his speech.

 Voyage and return: Simon the cat had a habit of breaking into houses and garages that he subsequently couldn’t get out of until someone opened a door. So I was used to him occasionally being gone for a night or two. But when he went missing for twelve days, I did all I could to find him: putting up posters, walking round the neighborhood calling for him, calling the pet shelter. Finally, I accepted that he was gone forever and gave away his food. On day 13, Simon nonchalantly walked up to the back door and demanded to be let in.

Overcoming the monster: I met Simon when I had a 150 pound dog, a gentle mastiff named Samantha. When we’d go out for a walk in the morning, Simon would hide in a bush, then jump out and smack Samantha on the rear. Then having “overcome the monster” (or at least scaring her half to death), he’d proceed to join us for our 12 block walk through the neighborhood.

Telling these stories to my children, I wonder if it is just a silly ritual. But I believe it helps them at a deeper level to make meaning out of their lives and days. Maybe one day when they are struggling with a monster or experiencing the rebirth and renewal that sometimes comes with life, there will be a niggling of a Simon story that reminds them they aren’t alone on their journey.

Perhaps it’ll even help them understand my story of the quest and how that led me to have them as a single parent. Even if it just creates a basis for loving stories, I believe it will help them to live fuller and more imaginative lives.

Don’t you still love a good story?

Observable Characters

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“Nothing is more painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.” – Mary Shelley

“What are you going to be when you grow up?” must be the most frequent question my young kids are asked. For adults that don’t really know them, it’s a good conversation starter. But I think it also indicates how attached our identities are to our work.

It’s what Vicki Atkinson and I talk about in this week’s episode of the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast. Identity at the unemployment office.

One of the fascinating positions that Vicki has held is as a career counselor at the unemployment office. She gives us a glimpse into how the jobs we do become our identity by telling us the stories of some of the people who she coached.

We talk about how being a helper or a boss manifests even when someone is no longer doing that job.

I love Vicki’s powers of observation and ability to draw thru lines – talents that show up when she writes, tells stories, and in the many professional roles she has played.

Here’s a snippet of the podcast where Vicki tells me about the people she met at the unemployment office (with captions so you don’t even have to have the sound on):

Vicki Atkinson and I are big believers in the power of story – to connect us, to create intergenerational healing, and to make meaning out of the events of our lives. Each episode of our podcast starts with someone telling a story in each episode.

Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts OR Listen to it from your computer on Anchor Episode 72: Smiles from the Unemployment Office

Or subscribe to our YouTube channel to see a video clip of each story: @SharingtheHeartoftheMatter.

Links for this Episode:

Episode 72: Smiles from the Unemployment Office on Anchor

Vicki’s personal blog: Victoria Ponders

Vicki’s post: Different is Good

Vicki’s book: Surviving Sue

Wynne’s book about her beloved father: Finding My Father’s Faith

Related podcast episodes:

Episode 71:  Catching an Edge with Wynne and Vicki

Episode 70: “A” is For Ambivalence with Vicki and Wynne

Episode 69: All You Have To Do Is Ask with Wynne and Vicki

Memoir Writing: Understanding the Why

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“Growing up as a kid, we don’t notice that our parents are growing up too.” – unknown

This post was originally published on 6/7/2023. Heads up – you may have already read this.

In the summer of 2015, I was pregnant with two projects. The most obvious was my daughter, but I was also about to give birth to a memoir about my father. My father had died in a bike accident the day after I finalized plans to become pregnant by invitro fertilization. His death kicked off an urgency to take the recordings I’d made of my conversations with him, and finish the effort I’d begun before he died to write about his life.

I spent the nine months of my pregnancy nurturing both projects, afraid that if I didn’t finish the book I might not be able to after my daughter was born. Then on a night in August 2015, at the end of the day on which I’d finished the very last line edits for the book, I went into labor with my daughter.

Essentially, I gave birth to both at the same time. And both events were joyous, scary, and full of “what now?”

I’ve also come to realize that there is another parallel between book projects and children – our understanding of them grows with time. This is the thing that surprises me the most – that with the benefit of hindsight, I continue to learn about what I myself have written. Who knew that was possible?

Here’s what I mean. I recently was reading Vicki Atkinson’s book Surviving Sue which is about Vicki’s journey with her mom, Sue, who suffered from anxiety, depression, alcoholism, Munchausen’s by Proxy, and Alzheimer’s. On the surface, I wouldn’t have drawn parallels between that and my memoir about my beloved father who didn’t suffer from any of those things.

But reading Vicki’s incredibly insightful, entertaining, and reflective words about her mom as she charted a trail through Sue’s life, I realized that we all navigate a path in our parents’ shadow. Whether we dig deep into what that was and write a memoir about it, or choose to go our own way and not think about it, the influence of a parent, present or absent, is powerful.

I think my beloved dad was an incredibly helpful influence on my life – and yet there are habits of his that I still carry, like aversion to conflict, that I need to heal. Maybe even more so because he didn’t do that work.

As I devoured Vicki’s well-written and insightful book about Sue, I found myself engrossed in the themes that Vicki wrote about, including:

  • Rethinking our parents as people
  • Understanding complicated family members and finding ways to love them anyway
  • Tending to unresolved childhood pain
  • Secrets and lies and how the weight of distortion impacts mental health
  • Dads and daughters and special bonds
  • Grace and patience

Whether the themes related to something in my life or not, reading a memoir from someone like Vicki who has done the work to understand the patterns in theirs is so inspirational. Whether our parents were hurtful or helpful, being able to tell their stories is an incredible gift to ourselves to uncover the a-ha of how their touch continues.

As we search for our “why’s” in life – the power behind what motivates us and defines us, figuring out our parent’s why’s is incredibly illuminating. Watching the way that Vicki uncovers that for her mom in Surviving Sue is like being at an archeology dig. Instructive to see the way she teases out the gems, suspenseful as we wade through the project, and thought-provoking for how we can apply it to our own lives. Then we can uncover, as Vicki does so masterfully, the objects and knowledge that give us the power and a chance for intergenerational healing.  

(featured photo from Pexels)

My book about my beloved father is available on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith

Vicki’s book: Surviving Sue print edition

Vicki’s book Surviving Sue Kindle edition

It’s Just Like Riding a Bike

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“I have great respect for the past. If you don’t know where you’ve come from, you don’t know where you’re going.” – Maya Angelou

Riding bikes with my kids has given me a new appreciation for the learning process. That is to say, I’ve come to see “two steps forward, one step back,” in a more growth-minded way.

I bought eight-year-old Miss O a bigger bike (24 inch wheel) with gears. She hopped on and owned it. It was like she aged five years in that one move because it was bigger and sat her up higher.

As a result, four-your old Mr. D got her old bike, a medium sized bike (18 inch wheel). I moved the training wheels over from his small bike. But even with training wheels, he got a huge boost in confidence and speed from having a bigger sprocket.

We’ve spent the week riding everywhere and in all sorts of conditions. We’ve gone round the block so many times we must have worn a groove. Then one night we rode around our local little lake to get pizza. The next night we went up the hill to get pie. All the while, I’m riding behind Mr. D watching him wobble back and forth before he gains his balance, my fingers crossed that the training wheels will hold.

Then, we got the small bike out of the garage to pass on to another kid in the neighborhood. Mr. D hopped on his old bike, now without training wheels.

I held the back of the small bike for a moment. Before any of us could really think about it, Mr. D took off – riding the bike without training wheels. So, Miss O and I took turns running up and down the block a dozen times holding the seat for the start until Mr. D mastered that too.

All this has made me think of the rhythm of growth. Sometimes you have to go back a step to see how far you’ve gone.

It makes me think of the feeling I get when I go back to the town where I went to high school. With the swirl of old memories all around, it’s easier to see where I’ve grown.

Or when I dust off an old favorite recipe and discover how I’m better at trusting the timing.

Or when I hike a familiar trail and feel the burn of my muscles within the certainty that I can make the summit.

Or when I re-read something I wrote years ago and I can discern how it’s gotten easier to put my authentic self on the page.

Sometimes we have to go back to figure out how much we’ve learned.

Writing From the Heart

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“There is a wisdom of the head, and…a wisdom of the heart.” – Charles Dickens

This post was originally published on 3/1/2023. Heads up – you may have already read this.

The other day I read a beautiful post that was a tribute to a dearly departed pet. It was so touching and zinged me right where there’s a sore spot from missing my beloved dog, Biscuit, that died six years ago. I had to walk away for about 30 minutes before I could write a comment.

I find this so often be true – the topics that are the closest to my heart are hard to write about when the tears are still flowing. When I had to say good-bye to Biscuit, the next day the only words I could manage was to put a sign next to the cat who was also grieving the loss of his buddy:

Cat missing his newly departed dog

So this set me off wondering why it is so hard. Loss of perspective? Lack of clarity so I can’t yet make meaning? Inability to see the keyboard when the tears are flowing?

Thinking it could be a left-brain/right-brain kind of thing, I looked up the neuroscience of writing and found this New York Times article: This is Your Brain on Writing. Turns out that left-brain/right-brain isn’t much of a delineation that they make these days. Instead the article describes the results an fMRI study of the brain while writing including the detail that in expert writers, there is a part of the brain, the caudate nucelus, that lights up. The same part of the brain doesn’t light up for novice writers, a result that made sense to the scientists because the caudate nucleus is the part of the brain associated with expertise. Which was interesting but didn’t get me any closer to an answer.

Then I looked to our sacred texts and the spiritual world for wisdom on those moments when I can’t write. I was reacquainted with one of my dad’s favorite quotes from 17th century mathematician and philosopher Blaise Pascal: “The heart has its reasons, that reason does not know.” My dad often cited this quote in an argument about belief in God – that our heart knows even if there isn’t any proof for the head. Maybe those topics that zing me are too close to my heart so they haven’t made it to the head yet?

Next on my list of possible explanations was poly-vagal theory about the three states of our nervous system. When I wrote about it for a post, The Unified Theory of Breathing I summarized the three states as: ventral which is calm and regulated, sympathetic the fight or flight response, and dorsal which is when the nervous system has been so stimulated that it shuts down. Perhaps when I can’t write, I’m flooded, in a dorsal state and can’t write? While this alludes to an answer, I don’t feel like I’m dysregulated and can’t write, just that I can’t find the words.

Finally, I turned to the world of yoga and meditation and found an explanation that makes sense to me. Stillness. When my waters are muddied, I have a harder time seeing into my depths. In times of life when the waves are choppy, I am all churned up inside. It’s only when I reconnect with my inner stillness that I can see well enough to cross the space between me and you.

What I found to be as fascinating as the question itself were the lenses I looked through to find my answer. Brain science, theology, physiology, and meditation – my four go-tos and I usually find the answer sitting in meditation. Must be why I do it every day. A confirmation bias loop because it works for me.

Here’s my take-away from the journey: It’s hard to write when I’m too wet and stirred up in my heart. And it’s also hard when I’m too dry and too much in my head. I have to aim for somewhere in the middle where I’m soft, warm, and clear.

What about you?

The Imposter Syndrome In Blogging

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“Write without pay until somebody offers to pay.” – Mark Twain

The was originally published on 5/3/2023. Heads up – you may have already read this.

On a recent podcast, Dan Harris was telling a story about when he suggested to his wife, a physician who graduated top in her class from a prestigious medical school and has practiced at some of the best teaching hospitals, that she might suffer from Imposter’s Syndrome. His wife’s response made me laugh out loud. Dan said it was something like “It’s interesting that some other people felt like that but I really AM an imposter.”

This Ten Percent Happier podcast with Dr. Valerie Young, an expert on the syndrome for more than 40 years, is fascinating for their deep dive in Imposter Syndrome or “feeling like a fraud, despite evidence to the contrary.” She also noted that some areas are more susceptible to this kind of thinking and being creative is one of them. According to Dr. Young, “when you are in a creative field, you are only as good as your last book or your last performance.”

Or, to expand on the professor’s point — your last blog post. That really resonated with me. Here’s why I think that.

I didn’t go to school for it.

In my professional life, I’m an expert in Microsoft collaboration software – things like creating structure and process about where people put and find their files, and workflow (e.g. how do I submit something for approval?).

Does my electrical engineering degree have any bearing on that? No. Outside of some basic troubleshooting and thinking skills, there isn’t any relationship between my degree and what I do now. I could draw a similarly loose relationship between the writing classes and I took in college and writing now, but I wouldn’t ever call myself an expert because….

Writing has been around a long time.

Writing has been around for about 5,500 years. I’m pulling that number from this delightful Psychology Today article about The Evolution of the Written Word. It’s a lot easier to feel like I know a good deal about collaborative software even though it changes daily and I’m always have to look something up. But writing? Well, there’s been Shakespeare, Fitzgerald, Garcia Marquez, Rushdie, and Hemingway and just typing that list makes me remember all that I don’t even know about the great writers, much less about writing.

No one pays me to write

For whatever I do and do not know about Microsoft software, I’ve been able to make a living out of a career providing consulting services around it. I’ve even published a couple of technical books, some of the least profitable parts of my career, which doesn’t bode well for me making a living from writing. But no one pays me to write, or at least not that I’ve managed to figure out yet, which makes me lack in the most basic form of transactional affirmation.

For some people, and I’m thinking of my colleague, Jack Canfora, who have made a go of writing as a career, the mantel of a writer seems to fit a lot better. Which affirms my inclination to think of myself as just a hobbyist.

And yet…

So why persist as a writer? Because writing feels more meaningful than any single consulting project I’ve ever done. Because writing requires me to dig deep and put myself out there is a way that is not required with computer consulting. Because writing about life creates a goodness in my experience that increases my enjoyment in life.

Here’s what I’ve concluded. Sure, sometimes (or a lot of times), I feel like an imposter as a writer and I know I’m not alone in that feeling. But every one who lives their authentic words out on paper can’t be an imposter to their experience. Any one who has hit the word “publish” has indeed created something. No one who uses words to create feelings in others and communicate should suffer from the distinction that others may have done it better. All who bleed, figuratively speaking, to put themselves out there should be proud of the effort.

What about you? Do you feel like you’ve suffered from Imposter Syndrome as a creative? What have you done to combat it?

(featured photo from Pexels)