The post Don’t Ever Lose Your Sense of Wonder appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

When I was about ten years old, I found a library book about creating habitats for salamanders, frogs, toads, turtles and crickets. I pored over that book, resolving to find everything necessary to assemble a creature-friendly container that I could keep in my room. Right next to my bed.

Growing up on a farm, I had access to a murky pond and pond-like critters. Salamanders probably slithered all over the property, but I couldn’t find any for my project. I didn’t bother with a box turtle, as we’d tried to rescue one before and set it free within days because it grew lethargic and refused to eat. I loved toads and frogs, but couldn’t find any of those, either. Come to think of it, I must have discovered the book between seasons—I’ll bet it was too early in spring or too late in fall for amphibians.

That left crickets.

After convincing my brother to drag an old fish tank from storage to my room, I found a small saucer for water; dug up moss, leaves and hunks of grass; and started catching crickets.

I may not have been able to locate salamanders or toads, but I caught plenty of crickets. A dozen or more shiny black insects thunked against the glass as they hurled themselves around the tank in a frenzy. But soon they settled into leafy nooks and crannies from which they chirped.

I liked what I created, and the crickets seemed to like it, too. It was fun. It was creative. It was good.

My parents took a gamble. They allowed me to experiment, assuming I’d sustain interest in crickets for about two or three weeks and then tire of the late-night serenades. Mom surely imagined them escaping from the net cover and burrowing into her sweater drawer to nibble woolen threads. But she let me do it anyway.

I did tire of the crickets, but before releasing them, I learned how they produce sound. I took pride in creating and sustaining a world in which they could thrive. And I’m happy to report that as far as I know, none escaped during their sojourn in my room.

* * *

Dr. Stuart Brown, author of Play: How it Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul, and founder of the National Institute for Play, suggests we take our “play history.”

Find that joy from the past and you are halfway to learning how to create it again in your present life. It also can be a guide to free-flowing empowerment by identifying natural talents that may be dormant or that may have been bypassed. — Dr. Stuart Brown, Play (206)

Dr. Brown suggests thinking back to what you did as a child that really got you excited and brought joy. After you recall the comic books you read, or the Lincoln Logs you played with, or the cricket habitats you constructed, “identify what you could do in your current life that might let you re-create that playful feeling” (207).

I don’t intend to create another cricket habitat any time soon, but I see how something inside of me loved to learn by reading about and trying new things, and I often sought to connect with, study, and admire nature.

That’s a good place to start: spending time in nature, and reading.

Take your play history by asking at least these basic questions:

What got you excited as a child and brought you joy?

And how can you re-create that playful feeling in your life today?

* * *

Related:

• The Energizing Work of the Playful Writer (podcast)
• The Play Project: Dolphin Joy
• English Teaching Resources: Incidentally, That Play-Doh Could Prevent a Homicide (Tweetspeak Poetry)
• English Teaching Resources: Incidentally, That Lego Could Earn You Six Figures (Tweetspeak Poetry)

Source: Brown, Stuart L., and Christopher C. Vaughan. Play: How It Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul. New York: Avery, 2009. Print. [library]

The post Take Your Play History appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

When I (Ann) wrote about family culture in 2008, I offered a few simple thoughts and personal examples on the topic. Curious to learn more about the concept of family culture, I interviewed Dr. Helen Fagan, leadership and diversity scholar and practitioner, to understand the topic better and offer readers a solid resource. The following are Dr. Fagan’s thoughts on understanding and navigating family culture.

What Is Family Culture – Interview with Dr. Helen Fagan

Dr. Fagan: Culture is complex and multifaceted. A lot of times what we don’t necessarily recognize about culture is that the very first culture we get exposed to is our family culture.

It is the foundation for our values, our beliefs, our perceptions, our attitudes, and our expectations. It is so much a part of us that we don’t recognize it and set it apart as a family culture.

We choose the type of entertainment, we choose the type of people we hang out with. Every part of our family is part of the culture around us. If you Google the word culture, you’d get lots of definitions, but if you boil it down to a few things, culture is the norms, the attitudes, the values, the beliefs, the customs of a group that is passed down from one generation to another. If you think about it in that broad sense, you can see where as a family we teach those things to our kids, to our grandkids, to our nieces and nephews. We tell our kids, “Well, other families might do that but our family doesn’t do that or talk like that.” That’s cultural training, but we’re not recognizing it. Culture has multiple levels.

Multiple layers between familial culture and societal culture

Between familial and societal culture, a whole lot of layers fall in. Whatever area or facet that makes you unique and stand apart from society as a whole, that becomes part of your culture, whether it’s religion or socioeconomic status. If you are a religious family, you have a religious culture you ascribe to. If your family is in a higher socioeconomic level, you travel and spend money on certain things; if your family is of a lower socioeconomic level and you’re having to scrape money to make ends meet, all of that becomes ingrained in you and part of your culture.

Culture is the fish in water that doesn’t know it’s in water until you take it out of the water, and then it senses something is wrong, something is different. When it gets exposed to something new, it knows something’s wrong but doesn’t know what it is. Our physical being is connected to our cognitive and emotional being. We have emotional reactions when our culture’s values are either violated or ignored, and we first begin to recognize those cultural differences when we come in contact with other people who are different than us, whether it’s our neighbor, all the way to our spouse’s family, to our classmates and their families.

From societal we move to national culture. There’s a fine line between those two but the thing that is different is what part of the nation you are in. In a vast country like the United States, the culture is different among, say, the northeastern United States, southwest United States, and Central United States. National culture is its own layer but it has differences.

Then between the national and societal cultures, you have things like organizational culture, education environment, the type of work you do. Again, it goes back to the language people use in that environment, what are the norms and customs in that environment, and where did we learn that. Being a writer, you [Ann] learned about being a writer from other writers [in the family, both parents were journalists], and it was passed down from one generation to the next. Those generalizations are where we create ideas of what a culture looks like.

Families Bridging—or Not Bridging—the Culture Gaps

What happens is we have to navigate the differences. We get exposed to differences and have emotional reactions: Why are you doing that? or Why are you saying that? or Why do you believe that? That’s a couple trying to navigate it and build bridges. If they do it successfully, they create a new family culture that is unique and different, that they then teach their children.

The bigger the cultural difference, the harder you have to work to bridge that gap.

If you’re successful at doing that, chances are you are going to be successful creating the subculture. If people aren’t able to navigate those differences, if you’re unsuccessful for whatever reason, chances are you walk away thinking that there’s something wrong with that person, or that way of doing it, or seeing the world, or being.

Navigating Differences in Family Culture

My husband was raised in a family where his mother was married and divorced five times by the time I met him. His idea of marriage looked different than my idea of marriage, where my parents lived together but ended up living in different countries for the sake of sacrificing for their children. That became really difficult to navigate when my husband and I decided what our family would look like, how would we solve problems, how would we communicate with each other. We had help from friends and other family members, but a lot of it we had to navigate on our own because we didn’t know a lot of couples who had similar family experiences to help us navigate. For example, how do you discipline your children? The concept in an Iranian family is so different in an American culture like my husband grew up in. My ideas were very different from his.

Figuring out how were going to do all this was a process of communicating, and trial and error. How we spend money—what is our idea of saving versus spending versus giving—we had to talk about all those things. What one person considers to be luxury versus the other person. I came from a higher socioeconomic background, and for me, to have a maid is not a luxury—it’s a necessity. My husband came from a working class family where they were barely making ends meet. Having a maid? That would never happen. That was not even on his radar. We had to navigate those kinds of things.

I was raised Muslim, he was raised as what we called Chreasters—his family would attend church twice a year, on Easter and Christmas. We found faith together. Finding faith and growing in our faith together set us apart from both of our families and their backgrounds.

The interesting thing for our family culture: To raise our children to be globally minded—to think beyond the boundaries of the United States, or Iran, to be a global citizen—takes intentional work. With everything we had going on day to day, we wouldn’t have time for it, but if it’s necessity of life, your children are naturally engrained in that without you recognizing it.

Understanding Family Culture in the Context of Culture as a Whole

Navigating family culture is one of the most misunderstood areas of family dynamics. I would say that people—even in the world of professional counseling, psychologists, therapists, and life coaches—have not been trained to think of culture beyond race, ethnicity, nationality, religion. So when we come across the idea that all human beings are cultural beings, that seems like a foreign concept. When you take that and put it together for families, it seems there aren’t many resources available in that area.

And yet, whether people are trying to blend a family culture, or students are looking for resources on the topic of family culture, or business people are dealing with issues and trying to understand culture, or psychologists and therapists are trying to find resources to help family dynamics, understanding family culture in the context of culture as a whole is vital.

While I don’t conduct research of families crossing cultures and blending family cultures, nor do I teach in that, I do work with individuals in the area of cultural diversity, and my work with them has enhanced their ability to make those bridges with family members. One student was from Haiti getting his bachelors in nursing. He met his wife in the program, and they got married. On the last day of my class [on cross-cultural issues and cultural diversity], he said, “I just want to thank you. I believe this class has helped save my marriage. The cross-cultural differences I’ve been able to apply with my wife.”

People’s actions and decisions make sense to them. They may not make sense to me, but they make sense to them. Human beings do things for multiple reasons, so when I have a challenge with someone in my family, whether it’s my spouse, my mother, my children—whoever it is—if I’m challenged in my interaction with a family member, instead of assuming I know what they are doing or saying, I may want to pause and really reflect on the fact that what they’re doing and saying makes sense to them. It would help our relationship if I would pause long enough to try to understand things from their perspective instead of forcing my own ideas onto them.

We never know what’s going on for another person emotionally or cognitively. We assume we do because we’ve known them for a while. But we don’t. Human beings are constantly in a state of change and growth and development, from the point where someone treated me at the last light, or the grocery store, or how a family member talks to me at the house is affecting me emotionally and cognitively, but I’m not paying attention to that and I walk around wanting people to understand me when I’m not taking the time to understand them.

I think it really helps people to navigate relationship challenges to just pause long enough to take a deep breath and realize I’m seeing things through the lense of my own experience. I wonder what’s going on with this person? That would really enhance relationships.

* * *

Though not much scholarly research exists specifically on the topic of family culture, Dr. Fagan recommends the following for further reading:

• “The Challenge of Cross-Cultural Family–School Communication” – Article by Elise Trumbull, EdD, an Independent Educational Consultant and co-creator of the Bridging Cultures Project
• “Cultural Sensitivity and Diversity Awareness: Bridging the Gap Between Families and Providers,” an article in a 1996 publication from the University of California, Berkeley.
• Explore books on cross-cultural issues from Nicholas Brealey Publishing and Intercultural Press
• Learn more from Dr. Fagan about developing cultural sensitivity and competence

______________________________

Is every hour rush hour at your house?

Explore the jarring effects of our overcommitted culture and find refreshing alternatives for a more meaningful family and spiritual life.

Find a pace that frees your family to flourish.

“Not So Fast is a gift to every reader who takes the time to slow down and breathe in its pages.”

—Lee Strobel, best-selling author of The Case for Christ

The post What Is Family Culture – Interview with Dr. Helen Fagan appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Elizabeth: Refueled. I like that. Tell me more.

Ann: I recently came across a quote attributed to Anne Lamott: “Sometimes you’re not blocked; you’re empty.” Could it be that a dry time is an empty time and a writer needs refilling and refueling? I was at a conference long ago and one of the speakers advised those of us in attendance to fill the library of our minds with beauty, creativity, art, and inspiration. I’ve always remembered that. In fact, I was reading the Good News Translation of Philippians 4:8, which gives similar advice: “fill your minds with those things that are good and that deserve praise: things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely and honorable.” When I fill my mind with things like that, I find I often have things to say again—the dry creek bed of creativity begins to trickle and flow.

Elizabeth: Can you give some examples of things you fill the library of your mind with?

Ann: Sure! A lot of activities fit that description: listen to a symphony, read two poems, turn on NPR to hear Radiolab or This American Life, listen to a Daily Audio Bible reading. Another breakthrough solution for when I’m blocked is to play: daydream, play a game, bake cookies, visit a nature center, do a word search. After pausing to refuel and play, I can return to the keyboard, sit down and write-or at least try to write. Maybe I’ll write with renewed energy and power or maybe I’ll write slowly and poorly, but I go ahead and write. After all, I can always go back and edit. And edit. And edit.

* * * * *

Slip over to Elizabeth’s to read the interview in its entirety. 

The post The Creek Bed of Creativity – Interview Excerpt appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

__________________________

One of my daughters started babysitting for a morning moms’ meeting. The first week, a woman came up to her and asked if she was Ann Kroeker’s daughter. When my daughter said she was, the woman said, “Your mom spoke to our group years ago, and I’ll never forget what she said.”

My daughter expected to hear a profound quote so powerful and life-changing, it was worth holding onto for seven years.

The woman smiled. “She said sleep deprivation is a classic torture technique, so if you’re a young mom feeling like you’re being tortured…you are!”

My daughter laughed as she told me the story later that day.

“You had no idea I was so very wise, did you?” I remarked. She laughed again. My “wisdom” was cracking her up.

For the record, my daughter added that the woman insisted my message helped her get through the early, exhausting days of parenthood, realizing that if she felt like she was being tortured by late-night feedings and lack of sleep, it wasn’t her imagination. Hearing that, I’m glad I talked about torture that day (it was, by the way, just one small point in a larger presentation).

I remember with a shiver those lonely, depressing, sleep-deprived, mush-mind days. Back then, I told people my mind felt no more lively than a bowl of cold, congealed oatmeal. I began to fear I’d never write again. As you can imagine, writers need functioning minds to do their job. Bowls of cold oatmeal offer little to the world.

Author Kimberlee Conway Ireton knows this feeling. When she felt her mind dissolving to mush and her emotions going haywire while her newborn twins consumed every waking (and sleeping) moment, her psychological health waned. She felt like she was cracking up.

Yet, her book Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis provides concrete evidence that even during the darkest times of her postpartum struggles, she could write and laugh. The “Grace Notes” she faithfully scribbled down reflect word artistry and the eyes and heart of a poet. The jokes interspersed reveal the humor that lifted her sagging spirit.

Margie, her spiritual advisor, asks “where has God been meeting you.” Kimberlee says she is grateful for laughter. She tells some stories and she starts laughing so hard she’s crying. “Oh man,” Kimberlee says, “I have to stop laughing. I’m going to pee my pants.” Then she remembers another story that makes her laugh even more. Margie’s laughing, too, and says, “[D]on’t you see God?”

“God?”

“Yes, God!” Margie exclaims. “I see God in all of this laughter. So clearly. I see his delight in your laughter…It’s still Easter. I think it’s just perfect that this season of laughter in your life is happening during Easter.”

…I tell Margie, “Anne Lamott says that laughter is carbonated holiness.”

“I like that,” she says, and smiles. “Carbonated holiness. Yes.”(47, 48)

Throughout the book, Kimberlee is open about details associated with pregnancy and nursing mom issues and describes gadgets including the breast pump, nipple cream, and the “baby hugger” support system she wore during pregnancy. Her husband sees her putting on this contraption and says he’s going to miss these days. She knows how unattractive she must appear at that moment. She makes a face at him.

I pull the baby hugger’s suspenders over my shoulders and down to my belly. It’s a bit of a stretch, even for the elastic. When I fasten the suspenders to the girdle, the velcro doesn’t hold. The suspenders fly up and hit me in the face.

Doug laughs again. “Yep,” he says, “I am definitely going to miss this.” (72)

She deals with problems far more serious than being thwacked in the face by elastic suspenders (and teased by her husband). [SPOILER] She deals with health complications during the pregnancy and a neonatal emergency after the twins’ birth, adding stress to an already stressful situation. She and her husband carry this anxiety with them into life at home caring for twins and two older kids.

As her subtitle states, Kimberlee was hit hard. Her depression is complicated by her desire to succeed as a writer (and her inability to do so). She declares quite honestly that she dreams of being a bestselling author (which seems unlikely given that her first book is, in her words, “tanking”). Consumed by 24/7 demands of feeding, changing, nurturing two newborn twins and two older children, Kimberlee wonders if her writing life may be lost forever.

Her fears intensify far beyond the baby blues. Kimberlee’s story reveals a mom in the midst of postpartum depression unable to recognize her need for medical intervention. Though she seems to have revealed to family and friends glimpses of the mounting anxiety she carried, I’m guessing no one knew how bad it was.

Tears drop onto my hand, onto Ben’s little swaddled back. How do I hold those things in tension? The goodness of my life, the many gifts I have, and the fact that I still find my life so difficult? And the most sobering fact that it could easily be so much harder?

…My tears fall harder, and my heart feels like it’s cracking right open and all the fear and unfairness and suffering is leaking out my eyes. And then, it fills my mouth, and I want to scream, but I can’t—I’ll wake my almost-sleeping babies, I’ll scare Jack and Jane who are in the living room waiting for me to read to them—so it erupts in a silent scream of pain, anger, anguish, as if I could rid myself of those things simply by opening my mouth wide enough, by crying hard enough. (Ireton 194, 195)

Thankfully she has help. Her husband, her mom, her sister, her spiritual director, and her friends step in and help carry her burdens in tangible ways, listening, bringing her meals, and keeping her laughing and praying. This network of support impressed me, as does the way they steer Kimberlee to truth in a way that does not offend or seem trite. As fear almost paralyzes her, she clings to threads of faith.

Life is precious, each moment a gift, and my best self—the self that I long to live out all the time—believes that God holds each moment, eternally present before Him, and when we stand before Him face to face, we will get those moments back, purified and perfected. We will. And if we don’t, God will have something even better for us—something more than all we can ask or imagine.

I believe. Oh help my unbelief.

Oh Jesus, cast out my fear. (177)

[PROBABLY THE BIGGEST SPOILER] Finally, fortunately, after months of sleep deprivation and postpartum hormonal flux, she gets the medication she needs to balance out her system. The twins start also to sleep through the night.

She’s medicated. She’s rested. She’s back. She’s believing. She’s writing.

She’s going to make it.

[END OF SPOILER] Kimberlee’s humor throughout the book offers occasional respites from the weight of her struggle, but it’s scary at times to read about her fears and anxiety, her soul-echoing emptiness.

Nevertheless, I recommend that people read this book to better understand postpartum depression and how it sets in and grows. And if you know someone with a newborn, especially twins, assume that she is sleep-deprived and needs your help in practical ways. She may also need you to discern her level of anxiety and depression.

When you drive over to drop off a meal and rock the baby, bring her a copy of Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis, as well. Leave it with her. It’s a sobering read, but her humor and quality writing make the topic accessible. Later, ask if she feels like Kimberlee. And if she sort of deflects it with humor, shrugs a little, or breaks out in tears, get her help. Pick up the phone and make the appointment for her, if need be. Help her load the kid(s) into the car and drive her to the doctor’s office, for her to get a diagnosis.

Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis is a reminder that postpartum depression is no laughing matter. It’s more like torture. Kimberlee handled it with humor and grace, but she struggled and suffered, and no one needs to feel that, carry that, try to survive that alone.

Kimberlee writes for two online organizations I’m part of: The High Calling and  Tweetspeak Poetry. As an editor of her work, I can assure you Kimberlee’s got her mind back. And her faith. But she needed people to step in and help her see what to do.

You can be that person for someone like Kimberlee. Let her story change other women’s stories. Maybe even your own.

* * * * *

BOOK GIVEAWAY!

If you would like a copy of Cracking Up for yourself or to give away, I’m going to send my copy to one lucky commenter. If for some reason you don’t want to be in the drawing (maybe you already have the book, for example), let me know (but feel free to leave a comment anyway!). To be included in the drawing, leave your comment (with some way to contact you) by 8:00 p.m. ET Friday, December 20, 2013. I’ll do the random drawing and announce the winner on Saturday, December 21.

________________

Work Cited:

Conway Ireton, Kimberlee. Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis. Seattle, WA: Mason Lewis, 2013. Print.

The post Book Response – Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

One week, the instructor said we had to take a risk and then return to class and report on it.

My self-imposed risk was to introduce myself to someone sitting next to me in one of the giant lecture halls. Normally, I slid into my seat, endured the lecture in order to take notes, and slipped out as quickly as possible without talking to a soul. On the day of my risk, with heart pounding and face flushing red, I managed to introduce myself to a stranger. The girl said hi, turned around and left. Nothing more happened, but I did it.

In the next acting class, before I could share my quiet success, a guy piped up and announced that for his risk, he left his apartment, drove from one side of campus to the other, got out of the car and walked up to the door of a friend’s apartment…naked.

You can imagine how lame my story sounded, following that.

But I did learn a memorable lesson: risk is relative

* * * * *

Note: This story first appeared in the comments at Amy Sullivan’s place when I responded to her post, then she highlighted it alongside other stories that people shared.

The post Risk is Relative appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Reading

The High Calling is hosting a book club discussion featuring Karen Swallow Prior’s Booked: Literature in the Soul of Me.

You can visit this post at The High Calling and scroll down to the comments to find links to posts that people have written in response to the first three chapters. Also, over at her Facebook author page, Jennifer Dukes Lee launched some fun creating pintograms (or whatever they’re called) highlighting quotes from the book.

Though I, like Karen, would have had permission to read widely without much censorship from my parents (at least that I knew about), I did not go wild choosing extremes. Instead, I read through Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden and The Hardy Boys. I read books by Marguerite Henry and Beverly Cleary. I favored Richie Rich comic books and carefully turned the pages of Mad Magazines borrowed from my brother. In the midst of this unsophisticated, simplistic reading material, I also read My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George and Kim, by Rudyard Kipling.

Karen describes her approach to books as “indiscriminate, disorderly reading.” I don’t know how indiscriminate I was in my childhood selections, but I was certainly disorderly. Many times I showed up at the library eager to learn a new skill, so I would carry armloads of nonfiction to the checkout desk, intending to satisfy my curiosity about anything from the care and keeping of tadpoles to crocheting, sewing, origami, and sketching techniques. These books did not contribute specifically to my spiritual or moral growth nor develop my deepest beliefs or understanding of Truth, but nonfiction did prepare me for life creatively and practically.

Meanwhile, I did read an occasional classic such as Pride and Prejudice and Frankenstein.

I think I read some popular fiction of that time, but I don’t even remember it. I think that may serve as evidence supporting Karen’s premise that “the best way to counteract falsehood is not by suppressing it, but by countering it with truth.” I don’t even remember the meaningless books.

She writes:

The essence of Milton’s argument is that truth is stronger than falsehood; falsehood prevails through the suppression of countering ideas, but truth triumphs in a free and open exchange that allows truth to shine. (19)

The best way I saw truth triumph in my life was by beginning to read the Bible. Around the age of ten or eleven, I did so all on my own, at first understanding only a fraction of what I read from my King James Bible. Over time, thanks to that slow, steady diet of Scripture—its meaning brought to light by the Holy Spirit—created a foundation of truth that helped me discern falsehood both then and now.

Writing

I caught up on a couple of articles for Get Organised and Tweetspeak Poetry, and have been working with writers on final edits for their pieces to be published at The High Calling. You should check out today’s family article by Kimberly Coyle entitled “Lazarus Moments.”

Learning

After a particularly busy Christmas season that included the fun of hosting out-of-country family, I am learning that I need a long break.

Also, I learned the necessity of menu planning when responsible for feeding eleven people.

Playing

One of the joys of hosting is the fun we can have with extended family.

Reacting

As December gives way to January, I usually devote time to reflecting on the previous year and seeking vision for the year ahead. This time, I was so tired, I just rested. This is important, as well, for how can we reflect or seek vision without at first finding rest?

* * * * *

Images by Ann Kroeker.

The post Curiosity Journal: January 9, 2013 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

For the Food on Fridays carnival, any post remotely related to food is welcome—though we love to try new dishes, your post doesn’t have to be a recipe. We’re pretty relaxed over here, and stories and photos are as welcome as menus and recipes. When your Food on Fridays contribution is ready, just grab the button to include with your post. It ties us together visually. Then fill in the boxes of this linky tool to join the fun!

[simplylinked list=cff2d650-b9fb-41c8-b3a8-b3bce7c1aa1b]

Food on Fridays with Ann

On Pinterest, I clicked through to this tutorial for making clementine candles.

I stared in disbelief. A candle? From a clementine?

I showed the link to my daughters, who said they’d seen the same thing.

“I’m having such a hard time imagining that white part working as a wick,” I said. “And olive oil? Really?”

“Let’s try it!” one of them exclaimed.

Next thing you know, she was slicing a clementine in half and pulling it apart gently, running her fingers along the edge to work the fruit out without tearing the peel.

She trimmed the “wick” with scissors so that it wasn’t so scraggly and then cut a hole in the top half to serve as a kind of lid.

She poured in olive oil, setting the little clementine cup on a plate to see how much more to add.

After a few minutes, the olive oil seemed to soak into the wick enough to give it a try. My daughter tracked down the lighter and held the flame in place until the wick lit.

And then, much to my surprise, the candle glowed softly, burning olive oil as fuel.

Despite my doubt, we ended up with a functioning clementine candle, a beautiful way to reuse the peels.

* * * * *

Photos by Ann Kroeker. “Pin” these images in a way that links back to this particular page, giving proper credit.

Smaller button for various uses

The post Food on Fridays: Clementine Candles appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Dripping from the silver-lined box,pink nectar.I find a clutter of heartsscattered like blossoms.Gather them.Tuck them in the golden box.How like us to love a mess.There. There we are, in the petals, the sugar, the shards, the myths. There we are, in the pink, the blossoms.Let’s cook, let’s taste, let’s race through time, through centuries. I tumble into the invisible space between uscaught by tapestry woven by dragonwings.Dissolve into the river;rush downstreampast smooth stones.I am here in the river, in the rush, in the blue perfectionThere’s always time, centuries, even, to look amongst the stone for jewelsSome say time is a river.Stop time for me. Play a love song on your lute.Come back, please. Bring lyrical love songs with you. Whisper them softly.Bring the blues, the canoesPaddle hard, for the current is strongWe are lifted on dragonwings.We aregrasping as the last lines slip away snatching for a synonymdissipating like smokeAll is vanishinglifted from sightleaving only crumbs.

The post Looking for Jewels appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday (or thereabouts) I’ve been recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the previous week using these tag words: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Reading

Hey, I finished grading papers! Maybe soon I’ll read something written by a person over the age of 18?

Playing

Our weekend away with friends was so relaxing, so rejuvenating, so restful.They know how to create a sanctuary.

root beer

Learning

Life is better with abundant sunshine and temperatures in the 80s.Of course, I’m not really learning that. I’m simply experiencing it—joyfully embracing, even wallowing, in this unexpected explosion of warmth and light—confirming what I’ve always known to be true.

Reacting

I jogged the other day down a path shared by scooters and bikes. As I plodded along, I heard a man’s sharp voice behind me, “Snap your helmet on. NOW.” Then he roared even louder, “Do it! NOW!”Two boys about eight or nine years old maneuvered around me, the second boy fumbling to click his bike helmet strap with one hand while steering wobbly with the other. Next in line, the father. Wearing a baseball cap. Behind him, another boy, his helmet straps dangling.Stern and fierce, the dad looked back at the boy behind him, who quickly felt for both ends of his loose straps and scrambled to snap them together.The dad glared at him, grabbed his baseball cap by its bill and lifted it from his head to wipe his balding head; then he stuck it back on and wiggled it back into the comfort spot.I almost said something to the last boy as he passed me—something about adult bike helmets on sale at Dick’s—but I thought better of it and stayed quiet. I watched them cycle ahead of me, those four boys—two of them still fumbling with their helmet clips—and the dad in his bright yellow baseball cap. They biked single file, the dad still barking commands, his voice fading as they rode up the trail.I wondered how many years will pass before the boys leave their helmets in the garage, assuming they’ve outgrown them.

Writing

My work appears in Mother Letters. I’m honored to have taken part…and, wow, I’m in good company.

* * * * *

All images by Ann Kroeker, except for the one of Ann Kroeker, which was taken by her husband. All rights reserved. You may “pin” in a way that links back to this post.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: March 21, 2012 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

At the reception, his friends and family performed skits, told jokes, reminisced, and sang songs….all in French. My husband translated as best he could, but he couldn’t keep up. The jokes flew at him, and it’s hard to translate jokes because half of the humor is contextual. I told him to just relax and enjoy himself. Meanwhile, I tried to guess the meaning of the speeches and toasts on my own. This was impossible, of course, and I ended up mentally exhausted. By the end of that evening, I promised myself I would never feel this way again.

I would learn French.

Instead of simply signing up for a class, however, I tried a DIY method, piecing together resources I collected here and there over the years. If I were launching this do-it-yourself language learning approach today, I would save up my pennies and buy Rosetta Stone French. But it didn’t exist back then, so I used what I could find.

Here is my non-sequential, piecemeal, do-it-yourself French program, cobbled-together with the resources I could put my hands on. I rarely worked through anything beginning to end, abandoning a book or program when I got bored.

Highly motivated to speak and understand the language (less concerned with writing), I applied myself daily and reinforced in as many ways as possible. I became functional in French, understanding quite a bit and able to express myself reasonably well. I’m not ADD, but I think this approach would accommodate an ADD personality as well as a non-sequential, easily bored personality.

Ann Kroeker’s Do-It-Yourself French

1. French in Action: The storyline is corny, but I think the French in Action video series sped up my language acquisition a hundredfold. You can watch the entire thing for free online as Video on Demand. I recommend setting aside about 30-40 minutes of “learning time” to watch each video (if possible, to reinforce the lessons, watch each one twice—not in one day, but maybe in two different sessions in a week—as they use an immersion approach that forces the learner to figure out a lot on her own). French in Action is one of my top recommendations.
2. Children’s books: I’ve found that one of the best ways to reinforce basic French is through children’s books, because they usually use simple but complete sentences and straightforward language. Ask at the library for the children’s foreign language books. You could even start with board books for babies and move up from there.
3. Continually rotate recordings from language programs (tapes, DVDs, and online recordings): Purchase various language programs at used bookstores, garage sales, library book sales, or sites selling used products like abebooks or Amazon.com used. Or browse the current library collection for programs to borrow. I would buy or borrow one for a while, listen and repeat, picking up what I could. If it came with written materials, I’d do some of the worksheets. When I got bored with one, I looked for another. Though not methodical, meticulous, thorough or sequential, listening and learning—and switching—is how I sustained interest. Be warned, however: it’s also why my grammar has great big holes in it. But I got to where I could speak and understand fairly well, so it worked for me.
4. Textbooks: I own a lot of French textbooks. I most often buy them used at book sales. Now, I’m sure that the smartest, cheapest and easiest thing to do would be to work through one textbook series, beginning to end, to be sure I have the grammar basics down; however, my goal was to speak French, not to read, write and translate. Once again, I would work on one book for a while and then switch. And then switch again. Variety helped me sustain interest.
5. Memorize phrases: I started out memorizing words, as any beginning student would do, but soon realized it worked better to memorize words in context. So I began to learn phrases and entire dialogues. I could listen to an interaction on one of my tapes or read one in a textbook, memorize the entire thing emulating the accents, and then have these in my head to draw from in conversation.
6. Imitate accents: Listening closely to recordings and videos, I worked hard to imitate accents, copying a lilt or the way the speaker held his mouth. This helped minimize my American accent, be better understood, and gain confidence. If you get Rosetta Stone, don’t forget to do the speaking portion.
7. Bible verses: I memorized Bible verses in French. All these years later, I can still recite Jean 3:16 and the beginning of Psaume 23.
8. French singers: Discover French singers who enunciate clearly and include their songs on your play lists. Due to the time period when I was learning, I listened to some popular ’80s and ’90s guys like Francis Cabrel and Jean-Jacques Goldman. If you can stand the ’80s hair and video production, here’s one called “Comme Toi” by Jean-Jacques Goldman. Someone has translated the lyrics here, so you can listen and read along. Goldman is fairly easy to understand—he enunciates clearly for the French learner. And then you can see how he looks a few years later, when he and Francis Cabrel sing the same song as a duet on a talk show (Cabrel sings it, even though it’s Goldman’s song).
9. French films (with English subtitles): I watched French movies and tried not to read the English subtitles too much.
10. English films (with French subtitles): I watched DVDs and turned on the French subtitles to read as I listened. Ah, I would think, so that’s a way to say such-and-such in French!
11. Counting: I would count in French while I exercised, going as high as possible. The repetition makes it more natural to speak and think in numbers.
12. Marry a francophone spouse (or host French speakers in your home): I married a man who grew up in francophone Belgium and regularly spoke with him in French, asking him to coach me on my accent. It may be too late for you to find a francophone spouse, but you could invite an exchange student to stay with you for a school year or host international French-speaking students for dinner. We’ve done this many times, as well (yes, we’ve had a French-speaking exchange student live with us for a semester and international university students over for meals).
13. Travel: Save your pennies and vacation to Canada, Haiti or French-speaking Africa, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, and parts of Switzerland. One year our family traveled to Belgium for a family reunion and while there, my husband had emergency heart surgery. With him stuck in the hospital, I couldn’t rely on him as translator, so I was forced to use what I knew. Leading up to that trip, I had spent weeks reviewing French in Action and working through some of my textbooks. Thankfully, I had tucked enough French into my brain so that it was there when I needed it.

Bonus: Music & Singalongs: A friend reminded me in the comments how powerful singing can be as a powerful language-learning tool. How could I forget all of the kids’ songs I have sung with my kids? Frère Jacques, Sur le Pont d’Avignon, Au Claire de La Lune, to name a few. It doesn’t have to be kids’ songs, either. I already mentioned Goldman and Cabrel, but you could listen to the classic Belgian singer Jacques Brel perform the melodramatic “Ne Me Quitte Pas” and sing along with the sorrowful chorus. You will never forget that phrase.

Or, for a more encouraging tone, try some Christian options. Listen to “Tu Et Le Maitre,” a worship song by “Exo,” a Christian group my in-laws introduced me to, or the melodic praise song “Je Lève Les Yeux” by Constance (lyrics in French here).

The DIY approach is not the most efficient path to fluent French, nor is it the most thorough. But it’s kind of fun. And that’s important to me when I launch any long-term project like language acquisition: to sustain interest I need to have a little fun.

Whether you use these ideas to create a French curriculum of your own, or to enrich a French class you’ve signed up for, may you find yourself able to listen, understand, and speak confidently with your francophone friends.

May I leave you with a little fun? While I can’t recommend any other videos by these guys, “Foux de Fa Fa,” a scene from an episode of Flight of the Conchords, is a silly song incorporating the kinds of words and phrases students learn in French class. The chorus itself, however, “Foux de Fa Fa,” is a nonsense phrase.

The post Do-It-Yourself French (13 language acquisition ideas for the easily bored, non-sequential, or ADD learner) appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’ve been recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the previous week using these tag words: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Reading

I read more of The Thinking Life: How to Thrive in the Age of Distraction, continuing to find lots of lines about slowing down.But it’s not only about making time to think. For example, I thought this portion was particularly applicable given my curiosity theme:

In this book on thinking, what I usually have in mind is critical thinking, the kind that is rational, informed, purposeful, and reflective, the kind that strives to remain bias-free and to arrive at logical conclusions. The critical thinker is an examiner of life, always alert, ready to pay attention, interested in everything, constantly asking, “Why?” and taking delight in the process of discovery. (Forni 7-8, emphasis mine)

In case you haven’t noticed, I’m interested in lots of things. I frequently ask “Why?” and take delight in the process of discovery. Several of my friends, however, are active doers who feel most satisfied having worked through a hefty to-do list. These doers are essential to keeping the world in motion. Their work is essential and valued, and I’m blessed that they support my intangible pursuits with love, humoring me and showing interest, even when I have accomplished little in a day outside of what transpired in my head and perhaps flowed through my fingers onto the page or screen.

Playing

I’m happy to inform you that I have a Words with Friends buddy. With practice, I’m playing a little smarter than I used to. And I’m learning obscure words. My favorite so far: “poods.”

Learning

This week, I’m beginning to read student research papers on the following topics:

• The Titanic (a focus on its rapid sinking)
• Alcatraz (focus is on The Great Escape)
• Sweat shops (focus on Bangladesh)
• PTSD (focus on PTSD developing in people directly affected by World Trade Center attacks)
• McDonald’s (how the company has had to adapt its American menu and restaurants to appeal to Indian culture)
• Concussions in football

I’m prepared to learn a lot.

Reacting

What about that Pinterest, eh? Just when I was getting in the swing of things, having a little fun pinning style, food and home ideas, I discover it’s at the center of copyright controversy.

Writing

I’m enjoying my work editing the “I Do” series at The High Calling. Today’s post by Ann Voskamp reflects on the doing of “I do.” She reminds us that daisies aren’t enough…and yet, the doing…those daily, thoughtful, sacrificial acts of love are essential to keeping love strong.

* * * * *

Credits: All images by Ann Kroeker. All rights reserved.Affiliate links included.Forni, P. M. The Thinking Life: How to Thrive in the Age of Distraction. St. Martin’s Press: New York, 2011. Print.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: February 22, 2012 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’ve been recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the previous week using these tag words: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Reading

I didn’t get much reading done this week, and I’m trying to be okay with that.Sometimes I think a Kindle tucked in my purse would allow me to make the most of unexpected free time.

Playing

One of our kids is considering a career in the medical field, so we attended an orientation meeting at a local hospital to prepare her for a day of shadowing. We sat in the conference room facing a wall decorated with press-on letters that formed titles representing a variety of medical careers.My daughter listened closely to the presentation, while I practiced proofreading skills.How many errors can you find (click on photo for larger view)?

Learning

I signed up for Pinterest.I left up one of the default boards labeled “My Style,” because I realized I don’t really have a style. Maybe, I thought, if I collect enough pictures of outfits that I kind of like, I could actually develop a style. One afternoon last week I stopped by Goodwill and found a Gap sweater with the same neck as the sweater pictured in the first photo I pinned. On another rack, a gray jacket.So I’m trying to experiment and figure out what works.

Reacting

I stuck about 1/4 cup of popcorn kernels in a small paper lunch bag, folded it shut and sort of crimped it together.Then I stuck the bag of kernels in the microwave for about three minutes, but I stopped the microwave when the popping slowed.I pulled it out.Opened the bag.Inside?Perfect popcorn.The makers and marketers of microwave popcorn should be scared. Very scared.

Writing

Writing projects: Stories for The High Calling, a brochure for a local client, and a few blog posts.

:::

Credits:Photos: Images by Ann Kroeker. All rights reserved.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: January 18, 2012 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’ve been recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the previous week using these tag words: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing. Now I’m testing a slimmed-down version.

:::

Reading

I started Run with the Horses: The Quest for Life at Its Best, by Eugene Peterson. In light of New Year’s Resolutions and other hopes of pursuing goals and dreams, I thought this excerpt was particularly nice:

Something very different takes place in the life of faith: each person discovers all the elements of a unique and original adventure. We are prevented from following in another’s footsteps and are called to an incomparable association with Christ. The Bible makes it clear that every time that there is a story of faith, it is completely original. God’s creative genius is endless. He never, fatigued and unable to maintain the rigors of creativity, resorts to mass-producing copies.  Each life is a fresh canvas on which he uses lines and colors, shades and lights, textures and proportions that he has never used before…anyone and everyone is able to live a zestful life that spills out of the stereotyped containers that a sin-inhibited society provides. Such lives fuse spontaneity and purpose and green the desiccated landscape with meaning. And we see how it is possible: by plunging into a life of faith, participating in what God initiates in each life, exploring what God is doing in each event. (p. 16-17)

So many great little phrases packed into that passage, like, “every time that there is a story of faith, it is completely original,” and “[e]ach life is a fresh canvas on which [God] uses lines and colors, shades and lights…anyone and everyone is able to live a zestful life…Such lives fuse spontaneity and purpose and green the desiccated landscape with meaning.”

How?

By “plunging into a life of faith, participating in what God initiates in each life, exploring what God is doing in each event.”

Good stuff.

Playing

I thought this would be my season of creativity. I thought Art had awakened me.

Then my kids started clipping coupons for Michael’s, which sells art supplies, and came home with brushes and paints and sketchbooks.

Apparently art awakened us all, and we will be sharing this season of creativity.

Learning

I enjoyed this brief video that features Tony Buzan (“Mind-Mapping”) talking about concentration. He recommends simple activities that can help our brain focus and concentrate. He also discounts the idea of the brain being a problem-solving organ. The brain is not so much a problem-solver, he says, as it is a solution finder. The positive tone of this semantic shift frees the brain to kick into gear and seek solutions, functioning as the amazing brain that it is.

Reacting

It never ceases to amaze me how that steel cut oatmeal post gets around.

I’ve learned curb any enthusiasm over traffic spikes like this, as they are never in response to a profound story I offered to my readers. They are always about the oatmeal. And because the most dramatic interest in my blog always traces back to a bowl of hot oatmeal, I just smile.

I’m humbled and honored to have provided such a valuable resource for people who want to start their day with a bowl of steel cut oatmeal that’s warm and ready the minute they lift the lid on their crock pot.If, however, anyone knows how I can place an ad on just one post, please let me know. In fact, I’ve always wondered why I haven’t been approached by McCann’s Irish Oatmeal. I’d happily swap out photos on that post for a tin of McCann’s. I have one in the pantry right now that I could set up for a photo shoot, should they contact me about placing an ad.Not that I’m trying to draw their attention or anything…

Writing

Not much to report, as I scramble to comment on student papers so that they can get started on revisions.

:::

Credits:

Note: This post contains affiliate links.

Work Cited:

Peterson, Eugene H. Run with the Horses: The Quest for Life at Its Best. Downer’s Grove, Ill: Inter-Varsity Press, 2009. Print.

Photos: Images by Ann Kroeker. All rights reserved.

The post Curiosity Journal: January 11, 2012 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’ve been recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the previous week using these tag words: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Reading

From Rumors of Water: Thoughts on Creativity & Writing, by my friend and colleague L.L. Barkat, Chapter 2: “Let the unrestrained rain of my own life infuse my writing. Let the me-I-am-right-now simply be” (18). L.L. has done it; on each page of Rumors, she offers life-infused writing that I take in with as much delight as L.L. drank down mint-and-lemon-infused ice water one afternoon at a nearby farm. Be refreshed, she seems to say. In fact, L.L. goes so far as to invite us all, as writers, to be free…free to be the me-I-am-right-now in our own work.

In Chapter 3, she recognizes lack of symmetry in her life and in her book, but decides, at least with her book, to embrace it. After an interaction with her daughter, L.L. decides that there will be a purple moth in every chapter of the book—or, of course, the metaphorical equivalent. She points out that Natalie Goldberg’s writing books break the rules of symmetry generally accepted in the publishing world; if there any symmetry in them at all, L.L. observes, it is the symmetry of Natalie. Like the purple moth that L.L. resolves to include in her chapters, L.L. also throws onto each page of Rumors that unmistakable me-I-am-right-now. Indeed, L.L. Barkat shows up everywhere, bright and brilliant as a purple moth sipping mint-and-lemon ice water.

True to her word, L.L. invites moths into Chapter 4—actual moths, not metaphorical. While doing laundry in the basement, she encounters food moths hovering near the bags in which she stores some of her grains and legumes. She surveys the laundry and the food moths and says, “There is nothing here for me…There is nothing here for me.” She blows across a capful of laundry soap to form a bubble, hoping for iridescent inspiration, but it is short-lived. The bubble pops, and she thinks there is nothing for her. But there is something: There is, quite clearly, the laundry and the moths, which she has invited onto the page. But, maintaining an idealistic mindset throughout, she nevertheless waits for more. She anticipates the arrival of ideas, poetry, and music. It will come. She knows it, and she wants the reader to know it, too. It won’t take long.

On an outing described in Chapter 5, it comes to her: Inspiration. Her girls beg her to come with them to a nearby farm, where L.L. discovers color, smells, and foods with names that become a wealth of words to work with—the very writing inspiration she was waiting for in her basement. Writing starts with living, she says, which sometimes snatches a writer out of her chair and off to a farm, dragged along by others who have such an intense passion for something that they change up our days to include the unexpected.

Food words continue to inspire in Chapter 6, where a particular bean takes center stage as L.L. models a make-do attitude…because sometimes writers have to use what they have on hand, especially if a purple moth has gobbled up every other ingredient typically needed to get the job done. Just as we should feel free to cook creatively, substituting one bean or spice or vegetable for another, so can writers write creatively, using what we have, not constrained by conventional wisdom and methods. We should always, however, have a few ideas in the hopper. “This is the secret of the prolific writer,” she advises. “To agree to use small beans and the ingredients at hand” (34).

:::

My responses to the first chapter of Rumors of Water can be found here. More reaction yet to come.

Playing

Many years ago I read the book The New Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain: A Course in Enhancing Creativity and Artistic Confidence (I actually had an older copy without “The New” in the title), by Betty Edwards. She teaches people more than basic drawing techniques—she teaches people to see. Contour drawings and flipping a piece of art upside down to copy—those exercises and more helped me realize how I had previously been drawing without really seeing what was there. Edwards helped me study the shapes, lines and curves, even the empty spaces, to begin to see. Then I could begin to create more accurate, realistic work as a beginner and move toward more sophisticated work in the future.

I’ve been recalling those concepts and will be prowling through the house hunting for the book. I think it’s on a shelf in the basement, not far from where I’d stuck the sketchbooks and pencils.

I want to keep playing around.

Learning

I may be playing with art, but I want to be working on my writing, and learning. I noted this tweet from L.L. Barkat:

Yes, I highly recommend reading a poem a day to become a much more powerful writer. http://fb.me/1oUkxdiyV

A poem a day. I figure I have enough poetry books lying around to read a poem a day for the rest of my life.

Just after our family visited the art museum, I pulled a collection of Wordsworth poems from the shelf and read this:

The Solitary Reaper

by William Wordsworth

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!

Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:

A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?–
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:

Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate’er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o’er the sickle bending;–

I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

Reacting

One of my daughters had her wisdom teeth removed. I am relying on the kitchen timer to send me back and forth to the freezer for ice packs, which she holds to her cheeks for 20 minutes at a time to reduce swelling.

Writing

It is not easy to write in the midst of ice pack deliveries, but some days life has symmetry…and some days it doesn’t. Some days you just work with what you’re given and turn out what you can.

:::

Credits:

Work Cited: Barkat, L.L. Rumors of Water: Thoughts on Creativity & Writing. Ossining, NY: T.S. Poetry Press, 2011. Print.

Photos: Images by Ann Kroeker. All rights reserved.

The post Curiosity Journal: January 4, 2012 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

We wander through the European gallery, pausing here and there to admire a piece that catches someone’s eye.

My son favors three-dimensional art like vases, bowls and sculptures.

My camera-toting daughter is capturing her favorite works in megapixels, often murmuring, “I really like that one.” Curious, I slip over and take a look. She seems to prefer muted colors, landscapes in soft grays and browns.

The sketch-pad girl creates her own quick pencil-on-paper version of a blue boat against an other-worldly yellow background and later, a sculpture of two gamboling deer.

I prefer paintings, leaning in to admire thick brush stroke’s texture, wondering how the artists saw not once but twice—first the actual scene or subject matter, and then the version in their minds that they committed to canvas using lines, curves, splotches and color.

Along the way, I find I’m unexpectedly moved by some of the works, though I don’t have much time to ponder why. The effect is as subtle and brief as the tapping of a pond’s still surface, which stirs a series of ripples that nod and flatten. I feel it, and then it fades.

I know that art can do this: it can tap the water’s surface and even cause a splash.

Art, I’m told, can awaken, unlock and touch deep and secret places inside us. I feel that these artists invite me to stop and stare. I can stand where they stood and see what they saw…or what they want to reveal.

But I don’t have time to explore this deeply or wonder about its power, because on this family outing, not everyone is drawn to the same thing, so we keep moving along.

As we work our way through the American gallery, the kids’ interest fades dramatically each time we turn a corner and encounter another collection. I am lingering near a Tiffany stained glass window, pondering the words—a passage from Ephesians 5, to be precise—and soon hear someone in our party sighing heavily. I leave the window to find the youngest actually curled up on an empty bench as if to nap.

Art can awaken, and art can put some to sleep. I notice that even the sketchbook has been slid into a bag and the camera tucked away.

It’s time to leave.

As we pull away, the kids are visibly tired; yet, though I can’t explain it, I find myself more awake than ever.

The post Art Can Awaken appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’ve been recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the previous week using these tag words: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Reading

The equivalent to what I would have posted here went live yesterday: “Season of Creativity.” When I began to re-read Rumors of Water: Thoughts on Creativity & Writing, by my friend and colleague L.L. Barkat, I found myself pulling out art supplies…

Playing

After a brief survey of my meager collection of pencils, charcoal and conté crayons, I determined a pencil sketch was in order. A sketch…of a pear.So I pulled out the only pear in the fruit bowl, a bosc pear. Kind of old, but edible. And sketch-able.Turns out its stem was broken and a few dark spots marred its skin. At first I was bummed about the imperfections; then I decided those sort of added charm, like a beauty mark.And then, for the first time in years, I picked up a drawing pencil and sketched.Following the recommendations of this post, I decided to sketch it four different times from four different angles.And I quickly realized I need a refresher course in shading and, perhaps, in the whole process of sketching. Thankfully, online tutorials provide helpful and inspiring instruction.

Learning

Even though the author seemed hesitant to make definitive statements, I enjoyed an article from onlineuniversities.com entitled, “15 Scientific Facts about Creativity.” One thing they said was:

Unlike intelligence, creativity tends to thrive when thinking slows down, although “flashes” of inspiration and insight occur with the speed of flashes.

I was also pleased that I managed to use the elliptical machine the same morning that I read “fact” number nine, “Aerobic exercise increases one’s creative potential”:

When brain fog starts rolling in, try a moderate amount of aerobic exercise to try and clear it up. Rhode Island College scientists noted that the two hours after engaging in such rigorous physical activity proved some of the most mentally fertile in a 2005 study.

I sort of ignored the observations that creativity and mental illness may correlate and that creative people are more likely to be dishonest.

Reacting

I’ve never been too good about setting and meeting goals unless they are very simple and short-term, like, “finish folding laundry,” “clear desk,” and “clip nails.” When I was in college, I would make a daily to-do list, and at the top I would always write “get up.” This ensured a sense of success and productivity because immediately upon waking, I could cross something off.So you can see that when it comes to goal-setting, I haven’t exactly aimed high.Yet year after year I find that during the days between Christmas and New Year’s, I’m considering goals, intentions, resolutions, rhythms, habits, patterns, curiosity, creativity, productivity…and dreams.I’m wondering how can they all weave together.Indeed, weaving together is important because the lines between work and play and teaching and learning blur and merge in my life. Due to this blurring and merging, clear and measurable goal-setting becomes a bit more of a challenge.But I formulate plans and talk them over with the Belgian Wonder. I sort them out in my journal. I pray. I wait. I try to listen as best I can to Divine direction, remaining open to new ideas.If nothing dramatic or substantial presents itself, I tend to focus on maintaining existing rhythms of life—perhaps tweaking them slightly—and listing projects that make sense to launch in this calendar year. Otherwise, a lot of life is about the quotidian activities that keep our family fed and clothed, and our home livable.But I do love to dream.

Writing

I’m practicing writing with my left hand, to unleash creativity.

:::

Credits:Photos: Images by Ann Kroeker. All rights reserved.

• There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail
• Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.
• “Like” me on Facebook.
• Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: December 28, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

I have been trying to write while raising my girls. I have been struggling. There are days I feel wildly creative; there are weeks when I feel ground down and completely spent. I am trying to show my girls that creativity is theirs for the taking. (Barkat 15)

I, too, have been trying to write while raising my kids; I, too, have been struggling, feeling wildly creative some days and “ground down and completely spent” on others.I finish re-reading one page in L.L.’s book, and I stop. That’s as far as I get in her book today.Out the window, I see the fir tree’s arms sagging under the pile-up of snow, and witness great white wads sliding off and flopping to the ground below. Splat.Winter is generally not my season of creativity. I am sluggish from the heavy snow and sunless skies.But L.L. reminds me that creativity is ours for the taking.I know it is true, but I wonder if I can really come alive right now. I usually have to wait until spring thaw for ideas to flow, but I decide I should come up with a plan to make this winter different. Instead of it being a sluggish, heavy season of survival, perhaps by nurturing my work, this can turn out to be a season of creativity.My nephew received art supplies for Christmas, and I thought of years past when my younger self had asked for art supplies, and I was given a set of pencils and sketch pads and charcoal and conté crayons. I still have some in the basement, gathering dust on a shelf.My journal, tucked into my purse, is an artist’s sketch book that I bought earlier this year and have been slowly filling with illegible script—curious thoughts, random ideas, questions, journal entries and sermon notes—but few sketches. Only occasional doodles and scribbles.Last week on Twitter someone linked to “5 Sketching Secrets of Leonardo da Vinci,” and this morning I was thinking about the first suggestion: to sketch something multiple times, from multiple angles, trusting that quantity leads to quality. I thought about how this might be a simply way to experiment again with art.I decide to retrieve my pencils and charcoal and conté crayons. And I resolve to work on my photography, as well, and my writing, looking at things multiple times from multiple angles, experimenting.I decide that creativity is mine for the taking.And winter can come alive.The music is still playing, and I can picture the box of pencils on the shelf where I stuck them years ago. In just a minute, I’ll finish my tea and head to the basement, wondering how to begin again.

:::

Note: this post contains Associates links.

Today I link up, belated, with L.L. Barkat’s On, In and Around Mondays, and Laura Boggess’s Playdates with God.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Season of Creativity appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’ve been recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the previous week. Tag words were: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Reading

As part of the experiment of trimming down the Curiosity Journal, I finished the book Staying Put and published my final response on Monday. Not sure what I’ll launch next.

Playing

I made three chocolate cakes in the last week, searching for one that earned the right to be described as “decadent.”I think I found it, and it’s neither of the cakes pictured above (though they were lovely).I’ll post about my CakePlay for Food on Fridays, but I’d like you to know that it was a lot of fun. What family doesn’t love hearing their mom announce, “I’m making another chocolate cake for us to taste test tonight!”

Learning

On Facebook a friend posted a link to an opinion article from The New York Times called “The Art of Listening.” This stood out to me:

Two old African men were sitting on that bench, but there was room for me, too. In Africa people share more than just water in a brotherly or sisterly fashion. Even when it comes to shade, people are generous.I heard the two men talking about a third old man who had recently died. One of them said, “I was visiting him at his home. He started to tell me an amazing story about something that had happened to him when he was young. But it was a long story. Night came, and we decided that I should come back the next day to hear the rest. But when I arrived, he was dead.”The man fell silent. I decided not to leave that bench until I heard how the other man would respond to what he’d heard. I had an instinctive feeling that it would prove to be important.Finally he, too, spoke.“That’s not a good way to die — before you’ve told the end of your story.”

May we tell our stories…all the way to the end.

Reacting

For her 14th birthday, we bought my third daughter, the most voracious reader in the family, a Kindle Touch.Today, her first day to explore its potential, she began downloading free books, mostly classics, calling out the titles one after another: “The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes! … 20,000 Leagues under the Sea! … Treasure Island!” At one point she paused from the downloading frenzy and looked up at me with eyes wild from raking in the riches of literary treasure. Hands and voice shaking from excitement as if she’d discovered bucketfuls of gold medallions free for the taking, she exclaimed, “I…love….this!“

Writing

Yesterday I wrote about the family Bible my dad received. I had to finish in a rush before heading out the door to pick up my sister-in-law from the bus stop. I wondered later about the ending. I think if I had taken more time, I’d have tweaked that.

That experience reminded me of conversations Charity and I have had about the nature of blogs versus other writing outlets. If I were working on a chapter of a book, I might revise it several times and spend days tweaking a section; whereas, a personal blog post may be thought up, drafted, edited and published all within a couple of hours. Are blog posts being publishing too fast? Should I slow down and take longer to revise and tweak? Or does the strength of blogging lie in quickly capturing and sharing the spontaneity of life without worrying too much what could have been improved?

:::

Credits:Photos: Images by Ann Kroeker. All rights reserved.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: December 21, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Staying Put: Making a Home in a Restless World

But first, the wrap-up.

Sanders makes a case for story trumping data when he quotes Flannery O’Connor, who admitted feeling, she said, “a certain embarrassment about being a storyteller in these times when stories are considered not quite as satisfying as statements and statements not quite as statistics…in the long run, a people is known, not by its statements or its statistics, but by the stories it tells” (157, 166).

“By what stories shall we be known?” Sanders muses (166).

What are we passing on? What content are we preserving on Facebook and blogs, in journals and memoirs? By what stories will this generation be known?

Sanders answers the question in part by telling his own stories. For example, he tells of returning to one of the places he lived when he was young. After revisiting old haunts, he ended up in a church, entering through an open back door. He observed the “squeaky pine boards of the floor,” child-sized tables used in Sunday school, and hooks where the choir would hang their robes. He continued:

Every few paces I halted, listening. The joints of the church cricked as the sun let it go. Birds fussed beyond the windows. But no one else was about; this relieved me, for here least of all was I prepared to explain myself. I had moved too long in circles where to confess an interest in religious things marked one as a charlatan, a sentimentalist, or a fool. No doubt I have all three qualities in my character. But I also have another quality, and that is an unshakable hunger to know who I am, where I am, and into what sort of cosmos I have been so briefly and astonishingly sprung. Whatever combination of shady motives might have led me here, the impulse that shook me right then was a craving to glimpse the very source of things. (190)

I always thought everyone shared that “unshakable hunger” to know who they are and where they are and from where they have been sprung.

But I have discovered that many people don’t relate to this. Perhaps they simply live in the moment without any desire to dig deeper into the soul or memory. Curious, they are not…at least, not about the past that makes the self. I, on the other hand, continually feel questions arise and want to find answers, seeking to know better who I am…and who I am becoming.

Aren’t we all becoming in the sense that we are always living yet another page in our story?

As we are busy living our stories, we aren’t necessarily telling our stories. When we venture to take on the role of a storyteller—an essential role, I believe—we add complicating layers. By revisiting our stories and reflecting on them, we can potentially affect the memories.

Sanders considers these layers and revisions and the tricks they can play on us. That visit of his to the tiny dot on the map known as Wayland represented the challenge of those layers:

There is more to be seen at any crossroads than one can see in a lifetime of looking. My return visit to Wayland was less than two hours long. Once again several hundred miles distant from that place, back here in my home ground making this model from slippery words, I cannot be sure where the pressure of mind has warped the surface of things. If you were to go there, you would not find every detail exactly as I have described it. How could you, bearing as you do a past quite different from mine? No doubt my memory, welling up through these lines, has played tricks with time and space…certain moments in one’s life cast their influence forward over all the moments that follow. My encounters in Wayland shaped me first as I lived through them, then again as I recalled them during my visit, and now as I write them down. That is of course why I write them down. The self is a fiction. I make up the story of myself with scraps of memory, sensation, reading, and hearsay. It is a tale I whisper against the dark. Only in rare moments of luck or courage do I hush, forget myself entirely, and listen to the silence that precedes and surrounds and follows all speech. (192-193)

It’s a bold statement to say that “the self is a fiction.” Is he right? Do we add to our story? Do we forget? Are we gently fabricating the self that we are, by telling ourselves a version of our past that makes the most sense, or sounds the best?

Do we fictionalize ourselves to the point of believing ourselves to have been far better, stronger, gentler, wiser, and funnier than witnesses would attest?

Or do we beat up on ourselves by fictionalizing and believing ourselves to have been far worse, weaker, harsher and more naive and blundering than witnesses would attest?

How can we revisit memories and tell our stories and understand ourselves in a way that is true, even if not 100 percent accurate?

Because who I am becoming flows out of who I have been. As a self, I would like to know the truth; as a storyteller, I would like to tell the truth.

All in order to continue becoming.

:::

Previous posts that discuss the book Staying Put:

Curiosity Journal: Geography of the Mind, Birdfeeders, Sarah Kay on Story and Mini Flash Mob

Curiosity Journal: Staying Put, Christmas Decor and Advent

Curiosity Journal: Extinct Green Parakeet, Puny Petunia, and First Snow

Curiosity Journal: November 16, 2011Curiosity Journal: November 9, 2011

:::

Note: This book is a title that I bought with my own money and selected from my personal library to read, enjoy and share briefly with you here. I was not compensated in any way by anyone nor did the publisher or author provide me with a complimentary review copy. My “reading” posts are not intended to be reviews; instead, I generally compose personal responses to passages from books I’m reading, focusing on the portions that I enjoy and pretty much ignoring sections with which I neither agree nor connect.Credits: all images by Ann Kroeker, all rights reserved.

Sanders, Scott Russell. Staying Put: Making a Home in a Restless World. Boston: Beacon Press, 1993. Print. (Amazon Associates Link)

• There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail
• Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.
• “Like” me on Facebook.
• Follow me on Twitter.

The post Who We Are Becoming appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. If you do, leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

Well, I’m still reading the not-at-all Christmas-y book by Scott Russell Sanders, Staying Put, in which he observes that “narrative threads, some weak and some tough, connect me to every place I have known” (149)

Story and place.

He cites specific examples to support his claim:

[T]he Mahoning River, long-since dammed, still runs in me, because, on a winter dawn while checking muskrat traps, I slipped into the chill current and nearly drowned. A field of wildflowers blooms in me because a woman who lived there alone in a cabin once filled my palm with seeds. In memory, a forest I have not seen for twenty years still murmurs with the voice of my father naming trees, a pasture gleams under the hooves of horses, a beach dimples under the footsteps of my wife. I am bound to the earth by a web of stories, just as I am bound to the creation by the very substance and rhythms of my flesh. By keeping the stories fresh, I keep the places themselves alive in my imagination. Living in me, borne in my mind, these places make up the landscape on which I stand with familiarity and pleasure, the landscape over which I walk even when my feet are still. (149-150)

Suddenly I’m pedaling to the creek on my banana-seat blue Schwinn, zooming around two curves and down a hill, right foot pressed backwards on the brake to avoid sliding out of control. I’m wading into the creek, because in the geography of my mind it’s summer and I’m plunging my hands into the water, working past the mossy rocks to dig through the silt and pull up handfuls of soft gray clay. When I pull it halfway up, the movement of creek water lifts and carries away silt and soil to leave the thick, heavy mound of clay in my hand. Soon, I’m pedaling home slowly—one hand wrapped tightly around the plastic handlebar grip and the other balancing the blob of clay. At home in the back yard, overlooking rows of corn lined up like an army behind the abandoned hen house, I’m rolling pieces of clay into long, worm-like strands and forming a coil pot. I’m setting it out on the picnic table to dry in the hot sun.

Just as Sanders is connected to the Mahoning River and a Midwestern forest from his childhood, I find that I am connected to the creek, to the back yard and the corn fields, to the hen house and the picnic bench. When that story involuntarily leaped to mind upon reading Sanders’ own recollections, I realized I want to explore it more, this “geography of mind,” as Sanders calls it, because I feel the tug of narrative threads that tie me to place and time, even to a specific season and hour of day.

He writes:

I have been thinking about stories of place in an effort to understand how the geography of mind adheres to the geography of earth. Each of us carries an inward map on which are inscribed, as on Renaissance charts, the seas and continents known to us. On my own map, the regions where I have lived most attentively are crowded with detail, while regions I have only glimpsed from windows or imagined from hearsay are barely sketches, and out at the frontiers of my knowledge the lines dwindle away into blankness. (150)

My inward map is a wealth of stories, as is anyone’s; these regions where we’ve lived most attentively, the ones crowded with detail, are waiting to be explored and told.

I feel Sanders modeling the importance of sailing off now and then with anticipation and adventure as an explorer of self, of story, open to new discoveries. It’s the call of the memoirist, I suppose, and while I have no plans to publish something long and involved, perhaps I’ll continue to publish random installments on my blog, something like the clown piece on Monday, and this brief summer reflection on the making of coil pots.

Playing

Our neighbor has lots of bird baths and feeders installed outside her kitchen window. Her cats sit on the ledge and flick their tails, relishing the delicious view.

For years we tried to entice some of the birds to our house with some feeders dangling from maple tree branches, but got fewer visitors. Eventually we gave up, especially when we adopted our gigantic dog who, due to his alarming size, tends to scare off chipmunks, squirrels, neighbor kids, meter readers, and birds.

The dog is growing a bit older now, however, and lies lazily as birds hop from branch to branch. Even the squirrels will balance on low branches and waggle their tails at him, asking for trouble, and he just glances up, stares briefly, and then flops his head back down.

It seems like a good time to invite the birds again.

I rummaged around in the garage and unearthed a few feeders, picked up some seed from the supermarket, and filled them up.

But the birds, it seems, need time to discover the new food source.

Over at the neighbor’s house, we can see dozens of birds swooping in to dine on sunflower seeds and peanuts and thistle, but here in our yard? Nothing.

Days passed with no customers.

Then, two days ago at lunch my teenage daughter pointed out the window, and with a mouth full of sandwich uttered only one word: “Birds!”

We looked out, and a downy woodpecker was tapping at the suet square hanging in a wire holder. Balanced on the 2-liter plastic bottle feeder, a male finch.

I set my spoon into the soup bowl and tiptoed slowly to get my camera, trying not to scare them, but before I got back, my son threw open the basement door and the big movement frightened the woodpecker. That bird flew away and hasn’t been spotted since.

But the finch had his back to us and may not have sensed the commotion in the house. I snapped this shot to mark the moment of our first visitor.

Learning

When I listened to this talk by Sarah Kay, I thought, “This is why I love memoir. And blogs.”

She starts by reciting a poem, and then at about 2:35, she explains that she didn’t realize as a child that she couldn’t do everything. She assumed she could live many lives and enjoy multiple professions in one lifetime.

As she grew up, she realized she would only get to see through one lens, her own, that of a teenage girl growing up in New York City. About that time, she became obsessed with stories. Telling stories. Sharing stories. Collecting stories.

When we write and read stories, we get to share and live more lives.

When we slow down and write, working and revising, and eventually sharing, we invite someone to live another life—to peek into our own life, to step into our shoes and mosey around.

And when we slow down to read, think and remember other stories, we peek into another’s life; we step into their shoes to run or skip or dance.

The stories, especially those tapped out for a blog post or an e-mail or related verbally in a conversation over coffee, may not be perfect. Even those we labor over for hours or days or months may not be quite right. We can revisit our stories, though, tweaking or adding a detail here and there. They are important and beautiful and need to be told.

To paraphrase Sarah Kay, when I share a story with you here or in some other form, know it represents where I am at that particular moment and what I’m trying to navigate.

Reacting

Our little home-school co-op enjoyed a Christmas pitch-in lunch (homeschool parents do it all—we even fix our own food). Various kids played piano and sang and played violin, sharing their talents with the group. When it looked liked things were winding down, the lady organizing it asked if anyone wanted to spontaneously jump up and do anything.

One kid stood up and said, “I don’t sing by myself, but I love music and singing with others. What if we sang the 12 Days of Christmas together?” He started it. “On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree…”

Then he stopped. The group tried its best to continue, but then someone else stood up and started in boldly with the second day of Christmas, and then someone else joined for the third day, another, and so on, so that they created a mini flash mob right there in the church gym.

I felt the grin on my face stretched to the max, sensing the energy spreading throughout the room. We were truly surprised. And delighted.

The singers formed a row in front of us and sang the last line loud and clear with lots of energy, and we laughed and applauded and whooped our appreciation.

As they returned to their seats, the lady who organized the entertainment dismissed us to clean up and head to classes. My son popped up and ran over to me, looking like he’d just discovered a hundred dollar gift card had been handed to him.”

That. Was. Amazing!!” he exclaimed, arms outstretched, eyes about to pop out of his head.”

They surprised us, didn’t they?”

“I LOVED IT!”

“It’s like those flash mobs I’ve shown you. Haven’t you seen some of them, where people are dancing in the train station or mall?”

“Yes! But I’ve never been IN one before! That was the BEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!”

It’s one thing to see it on a 13-inch computer screen and quite another to be swept away by one.

Writing

Whew. This post, right here, was a lot of writing.

I’ve been thinking I should cancel my Curiosity Journal and publish the sections on several days throughout the week, to spread out the fun.

Would you miss the collection? Would you enjoy the same things on other days, or do you prefer these random, somewhat unrelated observations and stories grouped in one place?

:::

Credits:Photos: Birdfeeder image by Ann Kroeker. All rights reserved.Sanders, Scott Russell. Staying Put: Making a Home in a Restless World. Boston: Beacon Press, 1993. Print. (Amazon Associates Link)

• There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail
• Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.
• “Like” me on Facebook.
• Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: Geography of Mind, Birdfeeders, Sarah Kay on Story, and Mini Flash Mob appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. If you do, leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

Not much time to read this week, though I’ve been perusing recipes.

Playing

We’re hosting Thanksgiving, so this is no time for play, this is no time for fun, this is no time for games…there is work to be done.In the midst of my hosting and baking and cleaning, however, I do want to stop and say how grateful I am for you taking time today to stop by and read this. Thank you. And Happy Thanksgiving.

Learning

I learned last year how important it is to plan ahead for Advent when I failed to secure a set of Advent candles and wasted a lot of time searching for a last-minute solution.This year, I avoided that fruitless candle search by driving straight to our local Family Christian Store and grabbing a box of candles from the clearly labeled Advent section. So easy. Within a few minutes I had paid and could head home knowing we had what was needed for week one of Advent.I am officially ready to…well…wait.

Reacting

About two months ago, I unexpectedly pulled up the carpet in our living room without any plan for what to put down in its place. So we just lived with the raw sub-floor.Since we moved into the house 12 or 13 years ago, I dreamed of replacing that carpet with hardwood floors, but hardwood is expensive, and we’re generally pretty cheap. We kept putting it off, living with the worn carpet, talking ourselves in and out of hardwood.But ripping out that carpet forced a decision.Just a couple of weeks ago, it hit us: We were about to host a house full of guests for Thanksgiving week and people would have to walk across a splinter-producing sub-floor. One evening, with this heavy on our minds, we drove to Lowes and stood in front of the hardwood floor samples, staring at the choices. I pointed to the four options I would be perfectly thrilled with, and then we surprised ourselves by taking the plunge. We, who wait years to take action on home improvement projects, made a spontaneous decision.Yes, sirree, we just gave the Lowes salesman the room dimensions and ordered it. And my husband committed to something he’s never done before…installing it.He rented a floor nailer, borrowed a compressor, convinced a friend to drop by and help out, and after two long days, working side-by-side, they did it.Plank by plank, that dear friend and he transformed the room. The Belgian Wonder had to consult with two other guys more experienced with floor installation; they walked him through some tricky spots, but he and that friend did most of the work.The sliding door needs work and the porch needs cleaning, but the floor? Oh, the floor gleams.

Writing

I invite you to visit The High Calling today and read about Thanksgiving at our house two years ago, “When Africa Stopped By.”

:::

Credits:Photos: All images by Ann Kroeker. All rights reserved.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: November 23, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

I started up Sophie’s World again, which I had abandoned several months ago; I also began reading Scott Russell Sanders‘ Staying Put: Making a Home in a Restless World.

I love the details Scott uses to remember the place of his youth as he drives to revisit it as an adult. He writes of Mr. Ferry, who used to let the neighborhood kids swim in his pond:

We knew that when we knocked at Mr. Ferry’s door, raising money for school or scouts, he would buy whatever we had to sell. He was a tender man. He loved his wife so much that when she died he planted a thousand white pines in her memory. The pines, spindly in my recollections, had grown into a forest by the day of my return. (7)

And while details like forsythia and willow trees bring his writing to life (show; don’t tell) I also appreciated this more straightforward observation:

One’s native ground is the place where, since before you had words for such knowledge, you have known the smells, the seasons, the birds and beasts, the human voices, the houses, the ways of working, the lay of the land, and the quality of light. It is the landscape you learn before you retreat inside the illusion of your skin. You may love the place if you flourished there, or hate the place if you suffered there. But love it or hate it, you cannot shake free. Even if you move to the antipodes, even if you become intimate with new landscapes, you still bear the impression of that first ground. (12)

Playing

I was planning to take a snapshot of this coffee mug one morning. It’s my favorite for coffee.

The Belgian Wonder’s sister gave it to us when we visited her in 2008. I admired it while sipping Douwe Egberts one morning in her kitchen.”Douwe Egberts coffee in a Douwe Egberts mug. I love it! It’s so retro, so fun,” I exclaimed. “Plus it’s not too big and not too small.”

As we were leaving to fly back to the States, she handed it to me. “We can get another here in Belgium,” she said. “Take it.” I almost cried. Not because of the mug, but because she was so generous. And, well, maybe a little because of the mug, too, because I loved it so.

Learning

My youngest daughter, 13 years old, jokes that most of what she’s wanted to learn, she’s learned from YouTube videos.

Curious about crochet, she watched several tutorials and followed those steps to perfect the basic stitches.

Then she found a pattern, worked on it quietly in her bedroom, and one day came down to reveal her creation:

Another day, she came down to model this:

She’s looked up recipes and discovered patterns to sew things, like a doll she needed to make for history class.

She sewed the doll from a soccer sock, and used a pattern found online to cut out clothes to be worn under a knight’s armor. She never did get around to making chainmail by bending bits of wire into circles using needle-nose pliers, but she did construct an interesting helmet from a plastic water bottle covered in duct tape.

And then there was the ukulele.

She didn’t follow a pattern for the ukulele. She just made it up as she went along, using discarded plastic jugs, rubber bands, and paper towel tubes plucked from the recycling bin.

It didn’t last long, nor did it actually make music. But she had fun making it.

Too bad she didn’t find this video by a man named Colin Webb of Homegrown Guitars. His accent is lovely, and his “shoeboxulele” is amazing. If you don’t have time to listen to him describing the parts he used (scrap wood, toothpicks, and fishing wire attached to the shoebox), at least scroll to 2:37 to hear him play “Has Anybody Seen My Gal?”

Reacting

Last Saturday morning, I dragged myself out of bed, pulled on running clothes, and plodded downstairs to use the “Richard Simmon’s Dreamstepper” I’d purchased used last winter. I know. Go ahead and laugh. Despite the name, it turned out to be a no-frills, functional stair-stepper that helped me get some exercise in the frigid, icy, bleak midwinter, when I wasn’t about to jog outside.

As I mentioned, Saturday morning I wasn’t in the mood to exercise, but I knew I needed to. So I grabbed some books and climbed onto the Dreamstepper and started stepping, stepping, stepping as I read. Yes, I read as I step. Anyway, about ten minutes later, I glanced at the shocks and saw liquid streaming down the metal frame.

Upon closer examination, I realized lubricant was squishing out of the shocks with each step.

Not good.

I phoned the store where I bought it and asked if they had any advice. “Bring it in and let me take a look,” the technician offered. So we hauled it over there, pulled it out of the minivan and set it on the parking lot. The technician climbed on and with the first step, fluid gushed out like a lazy geyser—bloop.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, jumping off and looking closely. He pressed down on the step and more liquid oozed out the top. “This is shot. There’s no fixing it. It has to be trashed. I can take care of that for you,” he offered.

Sure, but now what?

He offered to discount something in the store to make up for the busted Dreamstepper, so we poked around looking for another stair climbing machine of some sort. They’re usually cheap, because stair-steppers are not very trendy.

Apparently stairsteppers are so out of style, the store didn’t even have one to try.

So we climbed on stationary bikes and ellipticals and pogo sticks and treadmills and one of those mini trampolines. The pogo stick was silly, the mini trampoline was too small, and the treadmill seemed noisy.

But after a few minutes on an elliptical, I started to sense potential. An elliptical could be something on which to cross train—something to get me through the winter months. While adjusting to the fluid motion of the elliptical, I felt like I was hovering, dreamlike—almost flying, like in the bamboo forest scene from “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.”We bought it.

We rarely buy impulsively. We usually spend months researching brands and hunting for coupons or discounts. That day, though, we just did it. We plunked down our credit card and bought an elliptical machine. It’s not a high-end model; in fact, it’s rather simple, slender, and inexpensive. Still, we sort of surprised ourselves by pointing at the machine and saying, “We’ll take it.”

“Today?” the guy asked.

“Today,” I answered. “Right now, before we change our minds. Load it in the van and we’ll drive it home.”

And that afternoon my husband, with help from the girl who constructs helmets out of duct tape, assembled the machine. It’s the first piece of exercise equipment we’ve purchased new, unless you count running shoes and soccer balls.I used it this morning, thinking how fun it feels to wake up and fly.

Writing

On Facebook, my friend Lloyd Work reminded me how fun it is to write haikus by posting this:

Haikus are easy.

But sometimes they don’t make sense.

Refrigerator.

So I am writing some haikus, too. Three lines: first is 5 syllables, second is 7, third is 5.

a powerful forcewind gusts strip leaves from maplebare trunk stands exposed

flickering candleone lone flame brightens the roomwe are not alone

:::

Credits:

Photos: Octopus image by Sophie Marie. All other images by Ann Kroeker. All rights reserved.

Book: Sanders, Scott Russell. Staying Put: Making a Home in a Restless World. Boston: Beacon Press, 1993. Print. (Amazon Associates Link)

The post Curiosity Journal: November 9, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

When I found myself there, I immediately thought of David’s plea to the Lord, “Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings” (Psalm 17:8).

I thought about it all day long. David’s longing to be cherished and his plea for protection were so straightforward, almost childlike: Keep me as the apple of your eye, Lord.

Then yesterday at church, as we sang in worship, my intellectual exercise traveled 18 inches south, to my heart, and I felt it…as if the Lord was assuring me, You are the apple of my eye. Precious. Protected. I was sitting toward the back of the sanctuary and glanced around the room thinking, Each one, precious…protected. Each one, the apple of God’s eye, just as Israel was always in His sights.

In a desert land he found [Israel, his people],in a barren and howling waste.He shielded him and cared for him;he guarded him as the apple of his eye. (Deuteronomy 32:10)

But even as I visually drew in everyone to include them in the attentiveness of God, I felt that personal pulse.

I am the apple of His eye.

Why do I hesitate, resisting His attention? Why do I tend to deflect it toward others?

I am the apple of His eye.

With a sigh, shoulders loose, heart filling, I sat with that thought…that reality.

I know it.

I need to rest in it.

I need to rest in the shadow of His wings, in the apple of His eye.

Personal. Protected.

Precious.

:::

Image by Ann Kroeker. All rights reserved.Shared in community with:

The post The Apple of Your Eye appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday (or Thursday, if I’m running late) I’m recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday I was using every spare moment to read student papers submitted for a writing class I’m facilitating: essays on Success and Failure based on a prompt created by SparkNotes. The class only meets once a week, so one of the ways I continue to teach is by embedding detailed evaluations directly into the text of their papers. It’s not the ideal way to offer input, but it’s better than nothing.On Monday, before diving into those papers, I managed to publish a response to a chapter in Mindfulness, the book I’ve been reading with The High Calling book club. I’ve mined no more than a few nuggets from this particular read, one of which I highlighted in that post.I also spent time last week reading through the word portraits composed in response to the Community Writing Project at The High Calling.

Playing

The current PhotoPlay prompt at The High Calling describes the use of contre-jour, or shooting against the light. Assistant Photo Editor Kelly Sauer‘s shots are always infused with light, creating a soft, soul-stirring glow. I longed to achieve that effect, but by the time I figured out how to change settings on my camera to let in more light, cloud cover and rain moved in. No sun. No light. No contre-jour.But during that first wave of playing around, I was able to capture this.It’s a start.Can’t wait for the sun to come out, so I can go out and play.

Learning

The other day my daughter came downstairs and mumbled that she felt funny all over. Achy. I swear I could see heat shimmering from her cheeks. While the rest of us went to co-op, she had to stay home, missing critical instruction.Before we left that morning, I asked, “Which class are you most concerned about?””Worldview,” she replied. “She’s going to explain everything we need to know about our papers, and I don’t want to mess mine up.””Anything else?””Well, maybe Algebra 2.”I should think so. It’s her most challenging subject.For Worldview, I plugged in my smartphone and set it next to one of the students, a fun and kind young man who is always eager to help. “Can this phone sit next to you and record the class?” I asked.”Sure!”I brought up the voice recorder and it rolled for the entire 1.5 hours. The student amused himself by leaning down and whispering things like, “Make sure you write this down. It’s important.” The young man happens to be quite attractive. When I brought home the recording for her that afternoon, I suspect she listened more attentively for the times he spoke directly to her.Then I had the brilliant idea of using Skype for Algebra 2. My daughter logged in at home and I logged in at co-op, setting my laptop on the table so that my daughter could listen to the lecture and take notes in real time.We dealt with minor glitches. For one, the class couldn’t hear my daughter; but she could hear the class, which is what mattered most. Also, she couldn’t see the board due to glare, but from what the teacher was saying and the students were asking, she understood the lesson.The next morning, her younger sister woke up with the same fever. Instead of having her skip or reschedule an Algebra 1 tutoring session scheduled that afternoon, I phoned the teacher and asked if she would consider trying Skype. She was willing. The teacher and my daughter met virtually, staying on track with her course work.

Reacting

On the ledge in our eating area sit bottles of sand and shells.On my dresser lies a smooth stick I lugged home from the Gulf of Mexico.In a glass bowl nearby, a collection of white rocks sifted from a dune.

As I look out the window next to my desk, sunlight struggles to penetrate cloud cover. We are given only a dull, lifeless, filtered gray-white.

I make tea as wind gusts fling branches.

I glance at my jars and try to imagine the feel of smooth white sand under bare feet, undulating surf curling in and skimming forward, leaving bubbly froth at my toes. I try from memory to hear the gulls and remember the silent, graceful pelicans gliding across the surface of the sea.

Then a rumble. The neighbor rolls his trash can up the driveway and into the garage. Someone flushes the upstairs toilet. I finish my tea and stare at the table for a moment before rinsing my cup.

Writing

I created the Community Writing Post summary for The High Calling on Wednesday, highlighting a couple of stories from the collection of word portraits that were composed. You can meet my grandmother.

:::

Credits: Question mark, jars of sand, and contre-jour photos copyright 2011 by Ann Kroeker.Langer, Ellen. Mindfulness. Reading, Massachusetts: Addison-Wesley Publishing Company, Inc., 1989. Print.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: October 19, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

“this is a pen,” “this is a rose,” “this is a card.” It is assumed that the pen must be recognized as a pen so that a person can get on with the business of writing…What if a number of ordinary household objects were introduced to a child in a conditional way: “This could be a screwdriver, a fork, a sheet, a magnifying class”? Would that child be more fit for survival on a desert island (when the fork and screwdriver could double as tent pegs for the sheet, near a fire made by the magnifying glass)? (Langer 124)

I didn’t have to teach my kids that a pen was only a pen or a magnifying glass was only used to look at items up close. They quickly realized they could use a capped pen as a DS stylus and a magnifying glass to catch the sun and burn a hole in a piece of paper. When my kids were little, I would find pieces from board games mingling with Playmobil and money from Monopoly in a cash register that they used to play “store.” It drove me crazy; the banker was always short of money when playing Life and we never did locate all the jewelry from Pretty Pretty Princess when they merged it with their dress-up collection.But they were learning to make-do and solve problems. I sometimes wish I’d insisted they leave the board games intact, but I would soften as I watched them think—literally—outside the box, making new associations and spotting creative uses for all those plastic bits and pieces.Years ago, our friends had a cool set of nylon tunnels that could flip open for little kids to crawl through.After visiting their house and rolling around in those tunnels, our kids remarked that they’d love to have some tunnels, too. We didn’t buy any. Instead, our kids used clothespins to attach sheets to the couch and chairs for a makeshift tunnel that later morphed into a fort filled with pillows.They did so because they knew that big piece of material could be a sheet.Or it could be a tunnel.Or it could be a fort.Or it could be a cape. Or a toga. Or a cover for the bird cage. Or a tablecloth for the picnic table. Or an ocean for stuffed animals to sail across.

:::

I’m linking to The High Calling Book Club this week, as they work their way through Mindfulness, by Ellen Langer.Credits: Forks and clothespins by Ann Kroeker. Milk Crates Stacked by limonada (Emilie Eagan), used with permission.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Could Be appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

I requested from the library The High Calling‘s book club selection, Mindfulness, by Ellen Langer. When I picked it up, I read a few pages, intrigued. Later, I retold from memory one of the stories to my family. It goes something like this:Imagine you hear the doorbell ring at two o’clock in the morning. Surprised, you stumble downstairs and open the door. Standing before you is a man wearing two diamond rings and a long fur coat. You glance behind him to see a Rolls Royce parked in the driveway.He apologizes for bothering you at this time of night, explaining that he is on a scavenger hunt. To win the game, he needs a piece of wood three feet by seven feet. Could you supply him with this last item on the list? To sweeten the deal, he offers you $10,000 in exchange for the wood.You wrack your brain thinking of a solution, because you know that nothing of that size is stored in the garage or shed. You think of the lumber yard, but it wouldn’t be open at this time of night. Finally you give up and apologize for not having what he needs, and the man drives off.The next day you’re driving through a construction site and see a three foot by seven foot piece of wood leaning against the brick exterior. You could kick yourself. That piece of wood…is a door. You could have plucked any door in your house from its hinges and given it to the man, take his $10,000, and drive to Lowes the next day to buy a replacement door for $50.Why on earth couldn’t you think of that piece of wood the night before? Well, other than the fact that you were probably groggy and not thinking clearly, it may have been that the night before, that piece of wood was stuck in a category known as “door.”Lumping things in categories helps us make sense of the world. Categories help us organize and compare; they help simplify decisions and thought processes, which is helpful for certain activities like grocery shopping, for example. But they also trap us into narrow thinking sometimes, limiting the way we view people or even possible solutions to various problems. Being willing and able to think outside categories can help us live more creative, respectful, innovative lives. Langer would say that relying on categories at times when we need to stretch our thinking is a kind of “mindlessness.”This story is making me, well, think.

Playing

After reading this post by Michael Hyatt on how to organize Evernote, I started to play around with the program to organize bits of information, cross country schedules, travel itineraries and packing lists.Now I’m hooked.

Learning

Thanks to the book by Langer, I’m learning how to engage my mind instead of shuffling through life without really thinking creatively or attentively.

Reacting

For one brief, shining moment, my e-mail inbox was completely empty. I was overcome by a sense of glorious freedom.Now, however, I have 24 unread e-mails waiting for me. No, wait…25.

Writing

As you can imagine, to empty my inbox, I was writing a lot of e-mails, many filled with lavish apologies for my belated response. I think one had been sitting there since March.

:::

Credits: question mark photo copyright 2011 by Ann Kroeker.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: Sept. 28, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Beauty in the Mundane appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

Currently in the One-Year Bible, I’m in Isaiah, and a lot of its message is difficult, even harsh.

But there is hope. The reading includes Isaiah 30:15, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”

I sip coffee. In returning and rest…in quietness and trust.

Filtered morning sunlight manages to push through the clouds and brighten my mug, my Bible. The quiet will end soon. Kids will slam drawers and doors, stick bread in the toaster, flip on the radio, pour cereal, and open and shut the fridge twenty-five to thirty times.

I want to linger here, before the noise builds; I want to live a life of quiet trust, even as problems present themselves. I think of this as I set my mug on the counter and carry the Bible to my desk. I’m relocating my stuff, because the kids have arrived. Plates of buttered raisin bread and bowls of frosted shredded mini-wheat thunk against the table. Milk sloshes over the rim of a bowl. Spoons ping and clink against ceramic. The kids and I discuss the day’s schedule. We pray.

This moment of quiet and attitude of trust is temporary, because soon a disagreement will break out about whose turn it is to unload the dishwasher. But it is good while it lasts. And I think about it later, when I begin to feel agitated by scheduling challenges and an awkward conversation with a family member.

Return and rest, I remind myself. Return and rest.

Playing

My son misplaced Bananagrams for a long time, but found it recently while searching for a green T-shirt that he’d also misplaced. The shirt was discovered inside-out and crumpled next to a chair in the corner of his bedroom. Apparently the bag of Bananagram tiles was nearby.

We’ve been playing. I actually stopped momentarily mid-game to snap this. Those of you familiar with Bananagrams knows how risky it is to interrupt one’s focus.

After a few more “peels,” a moment when players draw another tile, I successfully rearranged and repositioned letters to form new words, but a late acquisition tripped me up: “J.” Given a little more time, I could have juggled things and made it fit, but one of my daughters was too fast. She used up all of her tiles.

No more to draw from. Game over.

Learning

One of my daughters is in a government class. She’s about to study how a bill becomes a law, which will be fully explained in her textbook; but I’m thinking, What better explanation than this?

This more serious resource is helpful for quizzing how well a student (or adult) understands the Constitution.

Reacting

Two weekends ago, our cross country team ran in a well-organized invitational held at a community park. The course wove through some woods and down a little rolling hill and around a soccer field. One section was kind of confusing because the runners had to circle around a section twice, but the organizers sent parents from each team to direct athletes. In addition, a man on a bicycle rode in front of the lead runner to show the way.

No one got lost.

Last weekend, the team participated in another invitational. Start time was delayed so that by the time everyone gathered, the host wasn’t willing to take teams on a course tour. He started pointing. “Oh, it’s so simple,” he said. “You just go around that tree over there, loop around there two times, then the third time you go around there and run down that way around the playground and come back up this way and go down that way…” and so on. He concluded, “It’s easy. So easy. We don’t need to do a tour. It’s clearly marked—just follow the arrows.”

No cyclist led the way. No parents directed the runners to loop around the playground two times or pointed them through the woods. The starter shot the gun, and the runners were off, on their own, following the arrows best they could.

They got off course.

They lost their way.

It was heartbreaking to witness their long strides and the determination on their faces, only to realize that something was “off”; their times couldn’t possibly be as fast as those I was clocking.

It turned out that in spite of their hard work, their strong performance, their grit and excitement, most were disqualified. If you don’t run the course, your time doesn’t count.

How do I know, in life, if I’m on the right course? How do we avoid racing off in the wrong direction?

I think of Isaiah again, same passage as earlier:

And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. (30:21)

Better than a bicycle leading the way—a voice from behind saying, “This is the way, walk in it.”

Writing

Lesson plans.

E-mails.

Journal entries.

Blog posts.

:::

Credits:

All photos copyright 2011 by Ann Kroeker.

The post Curiosity Journal: Sept. 21, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

One time we were making plans to have another family over for dinner. As we were discussing the get-together, they said, “So, after we eat at your house, what will we do? I suppose we’ll just sit around and … talk?”

“Um, yes. What would you do at someone else’s house?”

“Watch a movie or maybe a football game.”

“Oh, well, we just talk. I hope that’s okay. We’ll ask lots of questions if things drag a little!”

They came over and not only did they survive an evening without “entertainment” filling in the slower, quiet moments, but I think they actually had a good time.

I’ve thought a lot about their concern that we would just talk. They wondered what we would do and how we would fill all that time. We Americans are so used to noise and entertainment, this may be one of many challenges to building community and conversation in our culture.

The speed of our “microwave-fast culture” is also a major hurdle. Few of us take time to stop and sit down and talk, whether as a family or with friends. The culture itself works against this value, so we have to be intentional to make it happen.

This is so important and so hard.

Sometimes I take inspiration from my European relatives, who are located in Belgium and France. When we’re visiting, we’ve been part of multi-course meals that stretch out all evening.

And what do they do during each of those courses and in-between? How do they fill all that time?

They talk.

If you long to slow down, you can do the same.

Invite people over.

Share a meal.

Talk.

It’s a way to counter the culture without making a dramatic, disruptive, long-term change. Plus, you’ll have a chance to build community while you’re slowing down!

Try to schedule a dinner in the next few weeks with some friends.

Don’t schedule it around a football game (I know that’s almost impossible this time of year, but try).

Don’t rent a movie as a backup plan.

Just plan a meal (it doesn’t have to be a multi-course affair; in fact, Americans don’t seem to mind a pitch-in).

And then?

For one night, reclaim conversation.

Does the thought of sustaining that much conversation intimidate you like it did my friends? Here are some slow-down solutions to help you enjoy connection and reclaim conversation:

• Ask curious, open-ended questions. Decide how in-depth this group of people will want to go. If this is a group of friends from church intending to dig deeper into each other’s lives, you can ask different questions than you would with a group of neighbors who are just getting acquainted. Either way, however, open-ended questions are the way to get people responding with more than one sentence or one word.
• Listen. Our culture is influenced by creative media presentations on TV and film that overlap images, sound and text; plus, almost everyone is accustomed to multi-tasking and dividing attention, half-listening to a conversation while texting someone else, for example. This encourages and supports interruption, which stifles and shuts down meaningful conversation. Fight the urge to overlap or interrupt. Try to focus completely on the speaker and listen carefully and actively to what he or she is saying. Even repeat back part of what was said to be sure you understood completely.
• Ask follow-up questions. Sometimes people will cut themselves off for fear of dominating the conversation. If everyone seems to be enjoying the direction of a person’s story or response, ask a follow-up question to bring them out a little more.
• Encourage stories. When people tell their stories, we get to know them better. Plus, one story may spark a memory in someone else, leading to more stories.
• Use pre-fab questions. Check out Garry D. Poole’s The Complete Book of Questions: 1001 Conversation Starters for Any Occasion (you should be able to sample 99 “Light and Easy” questions from the book at this link). Though it might seem a little contrived to pull out a book of pre-printed questions, this simple tool can get people laughing and sharing right away, should things drag a little. Pinpoint five to ten questions ahead of time that may fit the group that’s gathered around your table (or living room, if the meal is finished and you’ve migrated to couches with coffee and dessert). There are other books of questions available, but Garry’s is organized so that the questions go deeper and deeper as the numbers go higher, moving toward more spiritually focused topics.
• Be vulnerable. Without overwhelming or over-sharing, be willing to offer something a little vulnerable to take a conversation deeper than small talk. The appropriate depth depends upon the group and the goal of the evening. You can lead the way without hogging the conversation by modeling a vulnerable response.
• Relax and have fun! Regardless of the flow of conversation or topics explored, one key to reclaiming conversation is to be relaxed and enjoy yourself. If the host is uptight, the conversation might be stilted and awkward, as guests might be concerned about doing something upsetting. Lead the way with a smile, mood and tone that encourage a comfortable atmosphere.

I invite you to report back on your gathering with observations, recommendations, and lessons learned.

Photo of European young people, copyright 2005 by Ann Kroeker. This post contains affiliate links.

_____________________________________

Is every hour rush hour at your house?

Explore the jarring effects of our overcommitted culture and find refreshing alternatives for a more meaningful family and spiritual life.

Find a pace that frees your family to flourish.

“Not So Fast is a gift to every reader who takes the time to slow down and breathe in its pages.”

—Lee Strobel, best-selling author of The Case for Christ

The post Reclaim Family Conversation at Mealtime appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

Well, I started reading What Does It All Mean?: A Very Short Introduction to Philosophy, and even though it is very short and relatively simple, I’m not at all sure what any of it means. Why is my mind unable to wrap itself around philosophy?

David Dark’s The Sacredness of Questioning Everything, which I mentioned last week, came in the mail.

Still reading and enjoying Anna and the King with the kids.

Playing

Our homeschool cross country team competed in its first middle school meet on Saturday morning, running against several Catholic teams.

Standing alongside the course, I like to encourage runners from other teams as well as our own, so I glance at the shirts and call out the name of the school. If an athlete racing toward me wears a jersey printed with, say, Wheaton Middle School, I would shout, “Good job, Wheaton! Keep up the pace! You look strong!” If the runner is from Bloomington North, I might say, “You look great, Bloomington!”

As the Catholic runners tore around a corner on the home stretch, I got to shout things like, “Good job, Christ the King!”, “You look strong, Joan of Arc!”, “Keep it up, Saint Mark,” and “Way to go, Holy Spirit!”

This pleased me to no end. I mentioned it to another coach. “It’s so fun,” I said, “to be shouting, ‘Way to go, Christ the King!'”

She laughed and nodded. “I never thought of that, but it’s like we’re proclaiming truth all along the course.”

Keep it up, Holy Spirit!

Reacting

In the 1950s, my mother-in-law worked for a summer at HoneyRock Camp in northern Wisconsin. After hiking to the bath house one night, she stepped out and stared in wonder at the sky—ablaze! Unlike a sunset, this luminous color shifted and shimmered mysteriously across the night sky. She hesitated only a second before racing back toward the cabins, sounding the alarm.

“It’s Jesus!” she cried out. “Everyone, come quick! The Lord is coming back! It’s the Lord! He’s returning!“

People scrambled from their beds as she continued shrieking with joy at His return.

They staggered out, rubbing their groggy eyes, and stared where she was pointing.

“It’s not Jesus,” they informed her. “It’s the Northern Lights.”

What a disappointment! To think you were witnessing the Second Coming of Christ only to be told it was just an aurora?

Ah, but those auroras…Though I’ve only seen them through someone else’s lens, I’m mesmerized by the fluid motion of those wafting, swirling green lights.

And, moved core-deep by my mother-in-law’s youthful thrill, joy, and delight in the coming of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I long to watch for Him with the same anticipation and readiness.

Writing

Monday’s post compels me to write raw.

How much will I manage to share on the screen, though?

:::

Credits:

Question mark photo copyright 2011 by Ann Kroeker.

Note: This post contains Amazon affiliate links.

• There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

_________________________________________________

Is every hour rush hour at your house?

Explore the jarring effects of our overcommitted culture and find refreshing alternatives for a more meaningful family and spiritual life.

Find a pace that frees your family to flourish.

“Not So Fast is a gift to every reader who takes the time to slow down and breathe in its pages.”

—Lee Strobel, best-selling author of The Case for Christ

Buy your copy

The post Curiosity Journal: September 14, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

While wiping the counters, I watched him, debating whether or not to say something. Should I recommend a better way?

My mind flashed to a summer day at the farm house where I grew up. After Dad and my brother finished mowing near the house, my job was to sweep the grass clippings from the back porch, a concrete slab about four by six feet.

I grabbed the straw broom from behind the door and started sweeping. I probably wasn’t working very quickly; I was likely daydreaming. I might have been gripping the broom awkwardly, sliding it across the concrete in wide, inefficient motions.

Suddenly, a shout. “Not like that!” Dad yanked the broom out of my hand. “You’re doing it all wrong! My mother taught me the right way. You have to make quick, short movements like this!”

Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick.

He handed me the broom. While he watched, critiquing, I had to practice it his way—or, rather, his mother’s way—adjusting my motions until I achieved the perfect flick. Finally satisfied, he returned to the mower. I  flicked the broom a few more times for effect, then ran inside and shoved it behind the door.

The grass was gone; so was my self-esteem.

Watching my son in the kitchen as he managed to corral the crumbs, I decided to keep quiet. Perhaps in the years to come he’ll watch others at work and learn to adjust his hold on the handle; or maybe he’ll figure out how to sweep quickly and thoroughly by experimenting on his own.

But for now, he was collecting most of the dirt. Wasn’t that the goal?

Anyway, who was I to criticize? After wiping the counters, I left streaks.

:::

Related reading at The High Calling: “Do the Job Your Way” by L.L. Barkat.Photo by Ann Kroeker, copyright 2011.

• There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail
• Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.
• “Like” me on Facebook.
• Follow me on Twitter.

The post A Better Way appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

By the time I was 13 or 14 years old, I realized the children’s department couldn’t provide the depth of information I craved. Shyly, I began browsing the adult nonfiction shelves for exercise books, vegetarian cookbooks, step-by-step drawing tutorials, and a series that taught survival skills, in case I ever acted on my dream of living by myself in the woods, like the kid in My Side of the Mountain.

One afternoon I glanced through books on writing. A title caught my eye: Write to Discover Yourself.

I looked both ways and plucked it from the shelf, running my fingers over the green cover with the fuchsia gerbera daisy poking out of a cup of pencils. It was a little cheesy, but…

Write. Discover.

I desperately wanted to understand myself and unearth who I was meant to become. And deep down, I wanted to write.

Cheeks flushed, heart thumping, I tucked the book under my arm to hide the title from anyone who might question my right to write or ridicule my search for self.I feared my family’s response most of all. In a household of word-people—both parents were journalists and my brother would eventually become an advertising executive—I was the vegetarian runner who asked for art supplies at Christmas. Compared with my family, I had never demonstrated noteworthy writing talent. I lost every game of Scrabble, and at that point, my latest story was about a ladybug in search of a home.

Me? Write?

Yes, I resolved. I would quietly write to “discover myself.”

This became my secret. I retreated to my room, scribbling responses to the author’s writing exercises in spiral-bound notebooks that I would stuff deep into my closet so that no one would peek.

I kept a journal and followed instructions to “portrait” the important people in my life, exploring memories, capturing life.

I sat on the wooden floor of my upstairs bedroom scratching out a word-portrait of my father, struggling to express the way his resonant voice, rising from deep within his barrel chest, could build and fill—even shake—the entire house. Or was it just me, shaking? On page after page of the book, the author encouraged me to continue being specific, to use concrete details and metaphor. On page after page of my notebooks, I poured out stories from my little world.

Digging into yourself requires a depth of honesty that is painful, she said, but imperative (Vaughn 25). She quoted a professor who said that a writer “is the person with his skin off” (24). This is how I began to decipher my life—on the pages of a journal, I wrote with my skin off: bare, raw, vulnerable.

My journalist-parents didn’t write like that, nor did my quick-witted brother. At least, I was pretty sure they didn’t.

Of my family, I alone seemed to practice this private outpouring of words and deeply personal stories that would form a base for future work. With the help of a stumbled-upon writing book, I privately peeled back layers to stare at my heart, my soul. And I began, through practice, through pain, through prayer, the lifelong process of finding myself.

:::

Work Cited

Vaughn, Ruth. Write to Discover Yourself. Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1980. Print. (currently out of print)

Note: this post contains affiliate links.

______________________________________

Is your writing life all it can be?

Let this book act as your personal coach, to explore the writing life you already have and the writing life you wish for, and close the gap between the two.

“A genial marriage of practice and theory. For writers new and seasoned. This book is a winner.”

—Phil Gulley, author of Front Porch Tales

The post Write to Discover and Decipher Life appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

A few months ago I saw a book titled The Sacredness of Questioning Everything. Intrigued, I thought I should order it—after all, a book about questioning seems appropriate for a person who keeps a Curiosity Journal. But the thought skipped past, and I failed to act on it.Some time later I learned that an author named David Dark was leading a session at the Laity Lodge Writers’ Retreat. I had never heard of David Dark, but, boy, did I love his name! Sounds like the alter ego of some comic book hero who transforms from local television news reporter to powerful, shadowy superhero that swooshes in unnoticed to confound a villain and foil his dastardly plans.Turns out David Dark is a writer of Christian nonfiction.Of course, that might just be his cover: nonfiction author by day, unstoppable superhero by night.Anyway, I finally put it together that David Dark authored The Sacredness of Questioning Everything, which I did, at last, order.Meanwhile, a couple of days ago, while leafing through my daughter’s college reading material, I spotted a quote from that very book, where Dark claims, “Show me a transcript of the words you’ve spoken, typed or texted in the course of a day, an account of your doing, and a record of your transactions, and I’ll show you your religion” (David Dark, as quoted by Jeff Cramer).David Dark, who was completely unknown to me a month or so ago, has practically become a household name.

Playing

I forgot to post pictures from the birthday boy’s gathering a couple of weekends ago. Our friends bought him Blokus.A game suitable for a wide range of ages.While four people played Blokus, our youngest guest unearthed some toy handcuffs and latched one cuff around his mom’s wrist. Click. He attached the other to the chair. Click.Ha-ha-ha. His mom was momentarily handcuffed to a spindle of the chair, until, at her request, he released the cuff attached to the chair with the click of a button. The other cuff, however, remained snug against her wrist.Ha-ha…uh-oh.The click-of-a-button didn’t release the second cuff. It was stuck. She said she wasn’t nervous, but after her husband, a scientist, and the Belgian Wonder, an all-around problem-solver, fiddled with it for twenty-five minutes without success, I felt nervous.The two men worked together, offering theories as to why it happened and suggestions for how to jigger it loose. Eventually, they figured out its mechanism, so the Belgian Wonder used pliers to turn a lever while the scientist poked a skinny, sharp tool into a tiny hole to trigger a broken release button.The cuff popped open.But not before leaving its mark.

Learning

I’m learning never to leave broken toy handcuffs out where a six-year-old boy can get his hands on them—his first thought, of course, is to snap them around someone’s hands, which will immediately alter the mood of any gathering.Also—and this is an aside, but—never ever brag about what a good dog you own. That day or the next will be the day he does something very naughty, or very gross.And that’s all I have to say about that.

Reacting

My first progressive lenses are leaving me feeling a little dizzy…and a little old.

Writing

Charity’s call to become masterful intrigues me. Unsure how to proceed, but considering ideas.Come to think of it, I’m invited to submit 1000-2000 words of a complete essay or a work in progress to my Writer’s Retreat workshop leader, so I suppose I should start there. The session is on memoir and the deadline looms.Yes, I should begin immediately.

:::

Credits:Cramer, Jeff. “Keeping Technology in Context.” Computing & Culture-Applications & Context. Boston: Pearson Learning Solutions, 2011. Print.All photos copyright 2011 by Ann Kroeker.Note: This post contains Amazon affiliate links.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: Sept. 7, 2011 (David Dark, Blokus, handcuffs, aging, masterful memoir) appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal, a recap of the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

Now that home-school classes have begun, I find that I’ll be devoting several chunks of my week to reading and commenting on student papers. With only six kids in High School Composition, however, I can give their work close attention and provide what I hope to be valuable input.In our family, the kids and I are starting to read aloud Anna and the King, by Margaret Landon, and A Praying Life, by Paul E. Miller. We selected Anna and the King because the Belgian Wonder’s great-grandparents were missionaries in Siam and became acquainted with the author (I have yet to sort through those details, but that’s the bottom line). Reading the book seemed like a fun way for my kids to become familiar with a place that is woven into their heritage.

Playing

Soccer season has begun.Some of us play; some of us chat. Some of us snap pictures or cheer; and a lot of us relax and read.

Learning

My son signed up to run with the middle school home-school cross country team this year. Though he’s one of the youngest runners, he said he wanted to try. When those first practices started up in the sweltering weeks of late July, he slipped on his running shoes and shorts, stuck on a cap, and came out to log a few miles with the team.But he’s slow. So slow, in fact, that he’s often passed by people walking. And he complains a lot. And as the season has progressed, he sometimes just quits halfway through the practice and sits on a bench, chatting with the moms.One day, when I was frustrated at his complaining, I told him that there’s a place inside all of us, a spot, that we all have to draw from.”What’s that spot?” he asked.”It’s the ‘I-don’t-want-to-do-it-but-I’ll-do-it-anyway’ spot. You won’t learn about it in anatomy class, and it’s not a very good name—doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue—but it’s a very important spot.”He nodded.”You have to draw from that spot for homework, for chores, and you really have to draw from it for cross country practice.””My spot is reeeeeeeally tiny,” he said.”I know,” I said, nodding. “It’s very small, but it can get bigger. And the great thing is that every time you do something you don’t want to do, it gets a little bit bigger.””It’s just a teeeeny-tiny sesame seed,” he said, holding his finger and thumb together so that they almost touched.”But if you go out and do the whole workout,” I assured him, “the spot will get a little bit bigger, and then the next time you have to do something you don’t want to do, it’ll be a tiny bit easier.””No, it’s a poppyseed,” he interrupted, trying to land on the best metaphor.”So,” I continued, “are you going to finish the workout today without complaining? Because I guarantee you that not one of these runners wants to go out and run two miles in the hot sun, but they’re going to do it anyway, and they aren’t going to complain about it.””Their spots must be huge!” he said.”Not necessarily. But their spots will be a little bigger when they’re done, that’s for sure.”He agreed to finish the workout, and he did it with only minimal complaints. After, he announced, “I think it’s a sesame seed now. It went from a poppyseed to a sesame seed.””That’s progress,” I said. “Good job.”Weeks have passed, and some practices go better than others. The other night, we were running around a track, one hundred meters fast/one hundred meters slow, for a minimum of eight laps. It was tough, but the air temperature was cool and tall trees offered lots of late-afternoon shade. My son did six laps and was threatening to quit. The last few runners were coming in, and the assistant coach was passing out team shirts. I had told my son earlier that if he didn’t do the workouts, he wouldn’t get a shirt.”Am I going to get a shirt, Mama?” he asked as he rounded the curve and came up to where the team was grabbing water bottles and cooling down.I moved close to him, so the others wouldn’t hear. “You’ve done some of the workouts, but remember at the park last week? You just ran a little bit and gave up. So, no. You aren’t putting in enough miles to run a meet, so there’s no reason for you to have a shirt.””I’ll finish the workout tonight! I’ll do two more laps!””You have to do the fast 100s fast. And you’ll have to do every workout between now and the first meet or you won’t be ready.””I’ll do it!” he exclaimed, taking off like a flash. I watched him go around, and he was really working. I realized that up until that night, he’d never really pushed himself; but right then, he was moving along strong. When he completed the final lap, he came in breathing hard, sweating.”Now that was a workout!” I said. “That’s what it feels like to run. You actually look flushed and sweaty, like you pushed yourself.””Can I…get…a shirt?” he asked between intakes of breath.I hesitated, not knowing if he’d done enough to pull off a meet. But there he was in front of me, heart pounding after earnest aerobic effort, walking around a little to cool down. His fast-twitch muscles were probably twitching for the first time, in a good way.Even though the shirts are overpriced, and even though he has a long way to go, I said yes. “Yes, you can have a shirt.”He clapped his hands and the assistant coach handed him an adult small, which was a little bit big, but not too bad. He pulled it on over his T-shirt. When his head popped through, he was grinning big.I was talking with two parents when he strode over and stated, “Tonight, I think the spot inside of me has grown to the size of a volleyball!“Then he skipped back to his sisters.The two moms looked at me funny. I grinned. “I suppose I should explain about the volleyball-sized spot?”

Reacting

The writing class I’m facilitating is going to be challenging at times, but I guess I’m going to draw from that spot inside of me and just do it. My spot’s pretty big, I think. Maybe the size of a soccer ball.

Writing

Though much of my writing has been prep work for the class, my part is mostly done. Now it’s up to the students to do the writing and revision.And I can get back to a writing schedule and rhythm of my own.I’d like to be a more reliable blogger and contribute to The High Calling more often.I did write a little post for Writer…Interrupted about families and scheduling.I’ll leave you with a shot of the soccer fields I mentioned in that piece. This shows the line of trees where the children pick up nuts.

:::

Credits:Question mark image: “Question Proposed” photo by Ethan Lofton. Used under a Creative Commons license via Flickr.com.”Litchfield Track” by Jamison A. Kissh. Used with permission via Flickr.All other photos copyright 2011 by Ann Kroeker.Note: This post contains Amazon affiliate links.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: August 31, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal, a recap of the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

I’ve got to finish organizing the class I’m facilitating, which has me reading books like The Lively Art of Writing, Essays & Term Papers, and that little classic I always enjoy re-reading, The Elements of Style.A recent distraction arrived in the form of a philosophy book. My sister-in-law with the PhD in philosophy, whom I frequently pester with questions, recommended a nice, simple, mentally digestible overview called, What Does It All Mean?: A Very Short Introduction to Philosophy, which I requested through our inter-library loan system. I kind of forgot about it until I opened the notification that it arrived. Because I requested it, I was obligated to pick it up. Now I’m tempted to leaf through that slim volume and read a few paragraphs, but I really must focus on class preparations.Fortunately I have three weeks to read and return the book, and it is truly very short. Maybe I’ll take a break over the weekend and zoom through it. Then over fall break I could try to finish Sophie’s World and then, throughout winter, surprise you by slipping into my posts an assortment of deep thoughts and philosophical musings.But first I must ask…what is the meaning of thought?(Just trying out some philosopher-speak.)

Playing

Remember the PhotoPlay assignment I told you about? The one that The High Calling Photo Editor Claire Burge put together?

I didn’t finish it.I only have four out of five photos.Claire asked participants to upload five images that represent their history. Her assignment?Each image must answer a question below, one question per image:

1. Who made up your DNA?
2. Where do you come from?
3. What object is precious to your past?
4. What memory resonates most deeply?
5. What moment in history marks your childhood?

She said to find symbols to portray the memories.I couldn’t find five symbols or images. Only four. I’ve highlighted them in the list above.I am connecting this shot of a gate with “Where do you come from?”I featured this photo in yesterday’s post but have chosen to share it here, as well, in connection with that question. Perhaps one day I can put words to why it answers “Where do I come from?” For now, the image alone must suffice.Though I suspect that eventually the more symbolic gate will generate deeper memories, I’m submitting the following photo for “What memory resonates most deeply?” To read about the memory that spontaneously came to the surface, see yesterday’s post.For the precious object, I’m cheating a little. I didn’t really think of anything that was precious to my past, but I did love to climb to the top of our metal play set and overlook the farm fields. And I would pump the see-saw so that it reached its full extension, with or without a companion on the other seat. I kept it up for years until wasps took up residence in the hollow frame.“Who made up your DNA?”Here’s a shot of some hands I’m related to:Or maybe these would work:

Learning

I’m learning that reflecting on the past and thinking in symbols is hard.

Reacting

It seems I get a lot of my early news flashes through social media. For example, I saw that Chris Cree, founder of EmmanuelPress, mentioned on Facebook and Twitter that an earthquake had shaken Colorado. Today, I heard via e-mail about the earthquake in Virginia.I’m sorry to hear that some spires on the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C., were damaged, and the Washington Monument appears cracked. But it sounds like people were spared and no major catastrophes resulted from the shaking.I know it must be disconcerting to experience an earthquake in a place that is rarely hit (our state felt a minor rumble last year and talked about it all day), but this made me laugh.

Writing

Mostly writing lesson plans.

:::

Credits:Question mark image: “Question Proposed” photo by Ethan Lofton. Used under a Creative Commons license via Flickr.com.All other photos copyright 2011 by Ann Kroeker.Note: This post contains Amazon affiliate links.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: August 24, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

On Saturday I roamed the farm where I grew up, camera swinging from my neck, lens cap tucked in my pocket, eyes peeled for texture and angles; soul searching, too, I suppose, for memories, for clues to who I am…even why I am who I am.

I studied flaking paint on aging sheds, slowly stripped by winter wind and snow down to raw wood, warping.

Near the barn stand gates in disuse, leaning, rotting, rusting.

I photographed two old tractors parked under an overhang.

Every once in a while, Dad would let me lean against the fender and ride with him into the fields. I gripped the edges, petrified I’d fall. I’d feel the Bush Hog® power to life and the blades engage, spinning, hacking down weeds.

The tractors sit quietly in the barn lot, parked in the spot where Black Angus cattle used to eat from the manger.I stepped gingerly into the barn, on the lookout for spiders, swallows, mice and ‘coons. An old box car ladder was mounted to the wall years ago, maybe a hundred years ago, for farmers to get to the loft. I climbed it.

In the filtered, cloudy midday light, I studied the floorboards coated with a loose, thin layer of chaff mingled with bird droppings and layers of dust. Later my sister-in-law scolded me for going up there, thinking it can’t be good for a person with asthma.

One look at the loft and I remembered an afternoon in the ’80s when I carried up my silver boom box and turned on the radio waiting for “Footloose.” Within a few short minutes, it played. And I danced. The loft was almost empty, so I spun and leaped and it’s a wonder I didn’t slam a shoe right through the rickety boards.

A shaft of deep yellow afternoon sun streaked straight in as the sun set that day. I remember the shape defined by the window, how I danced through the beam, stirring up chaff, until I was sweating and spent. When the song ended, I sagged to the floor.

All these years later, I lifted and placed my feet slowly, deliberately, careful not to stir up dust. I am long removed from the days of dancing in the loft; I climbed back down, wondering how long it’s been since my dad kept cattle, when secure gates were critical…

…when bright white out buildings stood straight, boards nailed secure…

…when the tractor rumbled down the lane to hack down weeds.

I was prowling in the weeds out by the tool shed, focusing on old red fuel tanks and the corrugated roof of the dog house when my brother showed up to help my dad move some soil and cinder blocks.

While he emptied the wheelbarrow of rainwater and shoveled some soil, I was out looking for myself.

I pondered questions posed by a photographer:

1. Who made up your DNA?
2. Where do you come from?
3. What object is precious to your past?
4. What memory resonates most deeply?
5. What moment in history marks your childhood?

In the barn lot and loft, I’d hoped for a flood of vignettes and strong emotions. A psychological epiphany would be fun to report.

No vignettes. No powerful emotions. No epiphany.

No clues to who or why I am.

Only the dancing.

Dancing in the loft.

Alone.

* * *

All content and images are copyrighted © 2011 Ann Kroeker. These images may not be reproduced, copied, transmitted or manipulated without written permission.

___________________________________

52 Creative Writing Prompts: A Year of Weekly Prompts and Exercises to Boost Your Creativity

Sure, you can poke around the Internet collecting writing prompts and creative writing exercises.

Or you could buy an ebook that collects them for you in one place.

Convenient.

Inspiring.

Affordable.

Learn more

The post Dancing in the Loft: Reflecting on Self appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal, a recap of the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

Slow summer mornings, sunshine streams through waggling leaves that cast dancing shadows on the kitchen table. The season spoils me; I relish this temperature, this pace, this flexibility, this time to rest…and read.I sit with my Bible, The Imitation of Christ, and My Utmost for His Highest. Sometimes I scribble notes or copy passages into my blank book. Sometimes I just read and sit at the table sipping creamy coffee from a small red mug and thank the Lord for reminders, for truth, for hope, for pointing me to Him.Slow mornings give way to school schedules, and the freedom to sit is snatched away—replaced by appointments, deadlines, expectations. It is time to shift gears to a more disciplined life; to organize the days and follow a plan.The hardest part, I think, is this time of transition.I read my last “whim” book—the last book I randomly snatched from the shelf because it caught my eye. Milkweed, by Jerry Spinelli. Set in Poland just prior to the Nazi invasion and written in the voice of a tiny street urchin whose naivete presents the atrocities endured by Jews in the Warsaw ghetto. Simply written, powerfully told. I’m going to give it to my junior high and high school daughters to read.

Playing

Claire Burge has given TheHighCalling photographers a PhotoPlay assignment:

For this month’s PhotoPlay, capture five images that represent your history. Each image must answer a question below, one question per image:

1. Who made up your DNA?
2. Where do you come from?
3. What object is precious to your past?
4. What memory resonates most deeply?
5. What moment in history marks your childhood?

Symbolism is important in recollection. To assist your photo search, find symbols to portray the memories that come back to you.

Claire may call this PhotoPlay, but it sounds more like PhotoWork. Deep, heart-probing work. I simply may not have the time or energy necessary to dig in and truly reveal who I am in this way; I doubt that in two weeks’ time I can isolate defining objects or moments from the muddle of memories that tumble in the recesses of my mind. Can I cope with what I unearth…at one of the busiest times of the year?We’ll see.Maybe I’ll participate, maybe not.But it does open up a set of questions and curiosity about myself.Reminds me of a phrase from Write to Discover Yourself that Ruth Vaughn proposed a writer ask herself. In chapter two, “The Diary/Journal,” she writes:

When I taught creative writing in college, I used to write two words on the board for the students’ first assignment:I WHY?I offer you that question as your first and ever-ongoing assignment in writing creatively. (Vaughn 7)

She recommends writing about one’s parents—descriptions of physical characteristics, memories, portraits of the past and how one feels about them. Write about the earliest memories: times you laughed or cried, times in a secret childhood spot, times in school that marked success…and failure. “Probe. Remember. Write it out,” Vaughn advises (11). Write in total honest and freedom, she says, with that diary or journal as a constant companion on the journey to discovering the answer to “I WHY?”

Take the time and effort to go back and try to capture the memories of your life from earliest childhood to present. Let nothing be too trivial to explore. It if survives in your memory, it was significant in some way. From such inner exploration will come self-knowledge, life-understanding, and increasing dimensions of wisdom…Also, you will be forming a reservoir of material which will provide the “stuff” of your writing in all future years. (11-12)

Because, she posits, as we write our way to the answer, we will be free to write creatively and powerfully for ourselves, for God, and for others.

Learning

I asked my doctor about the dangers of using a steroid inhaler for a long time, as she is recommending it for treatment of my lingering cough. She conceded that there are definitely some concerns, such as loss of bone density, though that is associated more with oral steroids than with inhaled. In any case, she said, “I’m more concerned that we need to be treating your lungs at this point. There are more serious side effects if they are left untreated.””Like what?”She looked me in the eye and said, “If you can’t control your asthma, you won’t be able to breathe.” She paused and stared at me.”And if I can’t breathe…” I said, nodding slowly, beginning to understand the severity of my diagnosis.She began to nod, as well, and then just said it: “If you can’t breathe, you die.”I now carry an albuterol inhaler with me all the time.

Reacting

Not a fan of Fall (Fall, after all, descends into stark, bleak winter), I grieve a little every day the morning temperatures feel the least bit crisp. I am clinging to every streak of sunshine, soaking it in, trying to absorb bone-deep memories of warm.

Writing

These days it seems I’m busier with start-of-school stuff than writing. Also, preparing to facilitate a high school writing class, I’m entering a coaching mode. But I squeak out a blog post now and then.

Works Cited:Vaughn, Ruth. Write to Discover Yourself. Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Co., 1980. Print.Question mark image: “Question Proposed” photo by Ethan Lofton. Used under a Creative Commons license via Flickr.com.All other photos taken of a friend’s flower garden by Ann Kroeker.Note: This post contains Amazon affiliate links.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: Aug 17, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

By the time I met her, she was a young adult reflecting on her childhood and the challenge of living with a kind of hidden diversity—she looked like a typical white Midwestern girl, but in many ways felt Asian. I asked for an example of when she might have felt differences, and she talked about high school kids in Ohio “cruising.” She didn’t understand the past-time at all: piling into cars and driving slowly, aimlessly, through town.

“How is that fun?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but it’s what my friends and I did growing up,” I admitted. “What would you and your friends do for fun when you were growing up overseas?”

“Oh, maybe on a free day a bunch of us would get together and rent a junk,” she said, “sail to a little island and spend the day lounging around, swimming, and having a picnic together.”

“Ah,” I said. “Yes, I can see how high school kids in Ohio would have a hard time imagining that.”

Even I did, and I have a vivid imagination.

I thought of her today as I captured some of the rural landscape just outside our neighborhood.

I grew up on a farm.

And attended a university only 30 minutes from that farm.

After college, I moved two hours away.

Same state.

Same landscape.

All these years, and I’m still here…

surrounded by the same crops…

spotting the same wildflowers…

It’s all so familiar to me, so ordinary, it’s easy to cruise right past.

And miss the beauty.

When I got home this afternoon, I thought about it some more.

About living here all this time.

I don’t regret this ordinary life, but I do try to imagine…

what it would be like…

to rent a junk for a day.

Photos © 2011 Ann Kroeker.

The post This Ordinary Life appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal, a recap of the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

Luci Shaw’s Breath for the Bones includes a chapter on Paying Attention, exploring themes within that broader topic.Waiting.During dinner at family camp, someone asked if I had a new writing project in the works. Several couples were sitting around the table, and all eyes were on me, waiting for my response.”Well, I have an idea,” I began, “and I want to write it, but I…I can’t explain it, but I just don’t feel like God has given me the go-ahead. I don’t know why, but I’ve found that if I move ahead on an idea before God says ‘now,’ it’s just a bunch of wasted words. So, no. I don’t have a project in the works. I’m just waiting.”They nodded. Though they weren’t writers, they seemed to understand what it means to wait on God.Luci Shaw seems to understand, too, and shares that the Psalms are full of waiting. She cites Psalm 33:20, “Our soul waits for the LORD” and Psalm 27, “I shall always wait in patience…take heart and wait for the LORD.” Psalm 130:6, “My soul waits for the Lord…” and Psalm 5:3, “I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.”That’s where I’m at on the writing project. I’ve laid my requests before the Lord and wait in expectation.”Waiting,” Shaw observes, “seems to be an inevitable part of the human condition, an inevitable part of the creative life” (Shaw 118).I’d rather wait than rush ahead and regret the results.I may be waiting, but while I wait, I’m paying attention and taking lots of notes.Noticing.Now that I’m trying to improve my photography skills, I’m slowly beginning to notice more moments, more details.A student asked Shaw, “Don’t you get tired of noticing things?” In response, Shaw quoted Annie Dillard (from an essay written for Life magazine):

We are here to abet Creation and to witness it, to notice each thing, so each thing gets noticed…so that Creation need not play to an empty house. (Shaw 199)

I never thought of that before, the idea of bearing witness to Creation and noticing each thing…through the lens, through description, through a moment’s observation with the human eye.”We cannot take in the whole universe at once,” Shaw says, so we take it in one detail at a time:

Every day gives us new chances for small discoveries, ways to view some commonplace object from a fresh angle…to recognize what we already know but still need to learn, to detect the extraordinary in the ordinary. A move in the direction of this kind of awareness is a move toward a fresh appreciation of our richly detailed universe–the Creator’s handiwork. The prime motivation for this exercise is curiosity; the prime requisites are time and focused attentiveness. (Shaw 119-120)

Small things.My friend and colleague Claire Burge sent a link to a video called “Learn.” I watched it and wrote back, “Learn! Yes! Would love to live this big! I try, in small ways, daily…”I’d love to live and write about big events, big outings, big learning opportunities in which I learn and grow and celebrate.But my life is mostly about small, simple, daily decisions and interactions. My big…is small.In Scripture, Shaw says, small things often led to large consequences: the fruit from the tree in Eden, the dove with its olive branch, the voice calling to Samuel in the night, the widow’s oil, the widow’s mite, the coin in the fish’s mouth, a seed, a pearl, a sparrow, a hair—each hair—on your head, my head.In the depths of a person, a big story is playing out. “Never despise the power of small things, like seeds, to transform the landscape of the heart” (Shaw 122).

Playing

As Luci Shaw reminded me, every day gives me new chances for small discoveries, ways to view some commonplace object from a fresh angle…to move toward a fresh appreciation of our richly detailed universe—the Creator’s handiwork.Before leaving for work Tuesday morning, the Belgian Wonder popped in and announced that some “impressive mushroom-like fungus” was growing off the side of the mulch pile.Luci Shaw said that the prime motivation for learning to pay attention is curiosity. Who wouldn’t want to investigate some impressive fungus? (Don’t answer that; I like to imagine you would run out the door with me.)I moved in close, trying to capture the texture, form, and subtle colors of this odd colony that popped out overnight after long-awaited rain.From the Falls to fungus…all things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small…it’s all part of God’s Creation, His handiwork.And I bear witness to it.

Learning

It’s more challenging to move toward “a fresh appreciation of our richly details universe—the Creator’s handiwork” when witnessing the gruesome reality of the food chain plays out in our back yard these past few weeks.Though cicada killer wasps look large enough to sting and stun Shrek, they are relatively harmless to humans. The males have no stinger at all, I’ve learned, and the female uses hers almost exclusively to paralyze cicadas to feed to their young. Rarely will she sting a human.These giant insects fly low, hovering just a few feet above the ground, swooping over, around, and into nests they’ve dug into the soil. I’ve watched one carry a cicada to the nest opening and drag it into the shadowy depths to be consumed by the larvae.We step gingerly to the garden these days, avoiding these piles of dirt that peek through the grass like land mines spread across the yard.By the way, if you’ve never seen a cicada’s shell, I happened to find one stuck to the side of our back porch.And if you’ve never seen a cicada, well, I found one of those, too.And if you’ve never heard a cicada, you can hear a recording here. Interestingly, we’ve not heard that ubiquitous, almost deafening, summer sound this year. More wasps, fewer cicadas.

Reacting

So, how about that stock market?

Writing

I’ve laid my requests before the Lord and wait in expectation.Works Cited:

• Shaw, Luci. Breath for the Bones: Art, Imagination, and Spirit. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2007. Print.
• Question mark image: “Question Proposed” photo by Ethan Lofton. Used under a Creative Commons license via Flickr.com.
• All other photos by Ann Kroeker.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: August 10, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

On Four Things that Bring PeaceCHRIST. My son, I will now teach you the way of peace and true freedom.THE DISCIPLE. Lord, instruct me, I pray. I am eager to learn.CHRIST. My son, resolve to do the will of others rather than your own. (Matt.26:39)Always choose to possess less rather than more. (Matt.10:10)Always take the lowest place, and regard yourself as less than others. (Luke 14:10)Desire and pray always that God’s will may be perfectly fulfilled in you. (Matt. 6:10)A man who observes these rules shall come to enjoy peace and tranquillity of soul.THE DISCIPLE. Lord, in these few words of Yours lie the whole secret of perfection. If I could only faithfully observe them, no trouble could distress me. For whenever I am anxious- and weary, I find that it is because I have strayed from Your teaching. All things are in Your power, and You always long to bring souls to perfection. Give me your grace ever more richly; help me to keep Your word and advance my salvation.(From The Imitation of Christ, by Thomas à Kempis; my emphasis of words in bold)

:::

Back from vacation, where everything our family of six needed fit comfortably into a minivan and pop-up trailer, I begin to study my belongings. What can I eliminate?

Browsing my bookshelves, I pluck a title and consider. Keep? Sell? Give away?

I toss it into the give away box.

One thin volume from a vast collection, but it’s one less thing. One less possession.

Always choose to possess less rather than more, wrote à Kempis. It’s one way, he claims, to enjoy peace and tranquility of soul.

I live in a land of acquisition, and those who acquire must store, protect, maintain, and repair the things acquired. When I survey all that I’ve acquired, I realize that it’s nothing but stuff. Stuff. And this stuff does not lead to peace and tranquility. Rather, it demands my time and attention: I’m frequently thinking about it, researching it, arranging my space to accommodate it.

I don’t want a life revolving around stuff.

My friend and I passed through the garage one afternoon as we headed to the pool.

“Behold, our junk,” I said, a hint of disgust punctuating the word “junk” as I waved my hand toward the stacks of boxes, piles of drain pipes, and haphazard collection of toys, bikes, rakes, garden tools and paint cans.

“Wow,” she marveled, “it amazes me how we can end up with so much stuff.”

So. Much. Stuff.

To be burdened by too much stuff. A first-world problem, for sure.

Embarrassing. Humiliating. Exhausting.

To enjoy peace and tranquility of soul, possess less.

I’m slowly letting go, emptying, possessing less.

How strange that I am looking forward to this tangible result to mark progress: the luxury of an empty shelf.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth,where moth and rest destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.”(Matthew 6:19)

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Possess Less appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday (except this week, when I missed my deadline) I’m recording a Curiosity Journal, a recap of the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

The July 28 entry in My Utmost for His Highest:

What we call the process, God calls the end…His purpose is that I depend on Him and on His power now. If I can stay in the middle of the turmoil calm and unperplexed, that is the end of the purpose of God. God is not working towards a particular finish; His end is the process–that I see Him walking on the waves, no shore in sight, no success, no goal, just the absolute certainty that it is all right because I see Him walking on the sea…God’s end is to enable me to see that He can walk on the chaos of my life just now. If we have a further end in view, we do not pay sufficient attention to the immediate present: if we realize that obedience is the end, then each moment as it comes is precious. (Chambers 152-153)

This has helped me gain perspective in the midst of a massive traffic jam, patiently await the conclusion of a complicated business issue that has stretched out unresolved all summer, and accept various symptoms and flare-ups of a prolonged respiratory ailment. If I can stay in the middle of the turmoil calm and unperplexed, with absolute certainty that it is all right because I see Him walking on the chaos of my life just now, that is the end of the purpose of God. When I realize that obedience is the end, then each moment as it comes is precious.I’ve also been reading Breath for the Bones (not “Bones for the Breath,” which I learned from an Amazon search equates to doggie dental treats). As I look ahead to the chapter “Beginning with Journal Writing,” I see how critical it is as a writer—as a human being in this moment, in this place, in this world at this time—to capture sounds, colors, images, conversations, and follow them where they may lead. This is how I can go back and recreate a scene or interaction to tell the story rich with detail. This is how I can preserve and process life.Luci Shaw quoted Henri Nouwen as saying, “Writing is a process in which we discover what lives in us. The writing itself reveals what is alive…The deepest satisfaction of writing is precisely that it opens up new spaces within us of which we were not aware before we started to write. To write is to embark on a journey whose final destination we do not know” (Shaw 95).I must start writing and see where it leads, asking for the Holy Spirit to direct my steps and then pay attention, following His lead.Luci also quoted William Saroyan, “The task of the writer is to create a rich, immediate, usable past” (Shaw 96). Where and who I’ve been can be right here with me, in my journal, in my blog posts, in any personal narrative writing project.Luci describes a consistent, personal journal as a form of prayer, as the words poured out on the blank white pages “can free us, nudging us into the kind of confidence in the process that eases our way into writing as a way of discovering and articulating who we are before God” (Shaw 96). I have experienced this. Many of my journal entries slip from straight narrative or questions into prayer. This is why I am shy for people to peek, for how personal it can be.But it’s also a lively spot where the creative process unfolds; where I explore early project ideas. As Luci points out, in a journal we see how where we’ve come from and how we’ve grown.I’m glad to have bought the blank book with white pages, no lines. Just space. I can position the book vertically or horizontally, I can write diagonally or in swirls. I can doodle. I can make lists. I can jot phone numbers in a little unused corner of the page with sermon notes. It can be messy or organized; creative or ordinary. I can be any of those things at any given moment—why not have my journal serve as a true reflection of my curious, creative, messy, multifaceted self?

Playing

Haven’t played Bananagrams since we returned from vacation, but my family and I sure have enjoyed playing with photography. Will you humor me with a little slide show of sorts, a photo album, of our week of family camp? Despite all my talk of detailed journal-keeping and how that leads to powerful storytelling, I’ll spare you narrative and let the photos tell the story.

Learning

At family camp, I sat on one of the Adirondack chairs to talk photography with my friend, award-winning photographer Bill Vriesema, someone who knows the craft well. I learn so much from him, not only during these impromptu discussions, but also by enjoying and studying his images and reading how he approaches his work.

Reacting

My health status makes for riveting entries under “reacting.” Seems my respiratory system is always reacting for better or worse to something: allergies, exercise, medication, infection. For example, the doctor thinks that the sinus infection reacted well to the antibiotics but aggravated asthma. The result? Coughing spasms that sounded like a crackling bonfire was aflame in my lungs. Doctor has me taking more stuff. So far, so good. Coughing is calmed. For now.

Writing

Writing in my journal, per Luci’s inspiration.And here.Works Cited:

• Chambers, Oswald. My Utmost for His Highest. Westwood, NJ: Barbour and Company, Inc., 1963. Print.
• Shaw, Luci. Breath for the Bones: Art, Imagination, and Spirit. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2007. Print.
• Question mark image: “Question Proposed” photo by Ethan Lofton. Used under a Creative Commons license via Flickr.com.
• Butterfly and sparkling water w/rock photos by N. Kroeker, used with permission. Cove, lamp and Ann-leaning-on-post photos by P. Kroeker, used with permission. All other photos by Ann Kroeker. All copyright 2011.

• There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail
• Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.
• “Like” me on Facebook.
• Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: August 4, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal, a recap of the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

The next two chapters in Breath for the Bones by Luci Shaw talked about metaphor and story. About story, she wrote:

As a Christian, I believe that life has meaning, that we are heading somewhere. And as an artist, a poet, I believe in giving voice and picture—record—to that meaning (Shaw 56)Story has the power to grasp bits of the past and carry them into the imaginative present, rescuing us from the pitfalls of abstraction. (57)Every time we tell a story or write a poem or compose an essay, we give chaos a way of reintegrating into order; we reverse entropy; pattern and meaning begin to overcome randomness and decay. (58)So why tell stories? To create readiness, to nudge people toward receptive insight. (61)

After citing all of those quotes, I feel that I ought to tell a story. But Luci set a high standard—at the moment I can’t think of anything worthy or capable of creating “readiness” or nudging people “toward receptive insight.”As an editor at The High Calling, however, I am pleased to work with powerful storytellers like Jennifer Dukes Lee, who wrote a charming personal narrative that will go live today at 8:00 a.m. ET. Since she first told me about it, 1980s hits by The Police and Duran Duran have been spinning in my head. More personally, I’ve been thinking back to that era of my life when I was dreaming of the future, wondering: With whom will I spend it? And here I am, living out that future with someone who was a dreamy mystery circa 1983. While I tuned into “Every Breath You Take” on my boom box, the man I dreamed about heard it on a car radio and speakers he rigged up in his attic bedroom in Belgium.Decades later, we might listen to U2 together. Or, if I’m lucky, I’ll get him to sit through part of Prairie Home Companion.

Playing

After composing numerous Curiosity Journals, this may be the first time I can report that I played an actual game!And I’m hooked.I played Bananagrams, a word game something like a board-less Scrabble or a simultaneous and complex version of Boggle that frees younger spellers to make words that they know how to spell while allowing adults as much challenge as needed to remain competitive and engaged.Each player uses their own tiles to build a combination of words, adding on as more tiles are drawn.I only won once, but that was enough to convince me to play more often.

Learning

Things I have either learned or been reminded of this week:

• In extreme heat, window boxes must be soaked at least once a day. Better yet, twice.
• When I have a sinus infection, it’s best not to run three miles in extreme heat.
• French braids just don’t work well on a 40-something-year-old mom…at least, that’s what my teen daughters have told me while stifling giggles.
• The garden wouldn’t be a jungle if I weeded more often.
• Cucumbers hide well under their own shady foliage.
• Cucumbers can grow really big.
• The Belgian Wonder makes really good coffee.

Reacting

When I felt like my head was jam-packed with rotting compost and a boggy swamp was collecting behind my ear drums—in addition to the lingering cough—I decided it was time to visit the doctor again. She agreed I probably had a sinus infection, and when she listened to my lungs with the stethoscope, she murmured, “I don’t like the sound of that.” I’d already had an X-ray a month ago that came back negative for pneumonia, but she “didn’t like the sound of it” because I still wheezed and crackled when I breathed out during the examination, the clatter emanating more from one lung than the other. I didn’t like the sound of it, either, but I’ve been hearing it since April, so I’m getting used to it.Anyway, she put me on an antibiotic. The pills are almost gone and things seem to have improved. I can hear and breathe better, which is certainly handy. When I speak, I still sound like I’m pinching my nose, but that’s improving, as well. I hope that when I take the last dose and continue to rest, everything dries up and disappears.

Writing

Hey, look! Another blog post!(That’s about all I can point to in the writing category.)Works Cited:

• Shaw, Luci. Breath for the Bones: Art, Imagination, and Spirit. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2007. Print.
• Images: “Question Proposed” photo by Ethan Lofton. Used under a Creative Commons license via Flickr.com.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: July 27, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Apologies for the belated post today.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

When The High Calling announced that their pick for the book club was Breath for the Bones: Art, Imagination and Spirit: A Reflection on Creativity and Faith, by Luci Shaw, I decided to get a copy earlier rather than later.In the Amazon search bar, I typed in “breath for bones” and stared at the results page, puzzled, and then amused. Instead of a photo of a thoughtful, poetic book on art and faith, I was staring at things like Zuke’s Z-Ridge Fresh Breath Dental Chew Bones, and Breath-A-Licious Dental treats for dogs.I added a few search terms and got past the dog treats to finally locate the book.A few quotes:

Art is what we say, what we sing, and what we show (in bodily movement or the work of our hands) about what is bubbling up within us, that which cries for recognition and response. Because it seems so special, so wondrous, so extraordinary to us—this upwelling from our creative imagination—we want to share it with kindred spirits. (Shaw 5-6)

daughter's hand

We are each, in the image of our Creator, created to create, to call others back to beauty and holiness and to the truth about God’s nature. We are each created to stop and cry to someone preoccupied with the superficial, “Look!” or “Listen!” when, in something beautiful and meaningful, we hear a message from beyond us. (Shaw 33-34)

I love that last part, the idea of hearing a message to share, and crying out to someone preoccupied with the superficial, Look! Listen!Isn’t this why many of us blog?

Playing

My daughter and I played around together to find camera settings that would let in more light as we photographed crystals hanging from a favorite lamp.I love how the washed out background brings all the attention to the detail of the lamp and the crystal.My daughter tried a creative angle with the light washing out the background so much that you kind of forget what’s back there.Same here. You can see that there’s a soft, filmy curtain and light streaming in, but my eye goes straight to the crystal. I like how the back one is blurring, fading.

Learning

My husband has been researching used cars and introduced me to a safety feature called Electronic Stability Control (ESC), which, according to David Champion, Senior Director of Automotive Testing for Consumer Reports, “is the single most important advance in auto safety since the development of the seatbelt.” ESC helps drivers maintain control of the vehicle in turns, especially on slippery roads, using sensors to detect angles and sideways motions and then applies a brake to one or more wheels or reduces engine power. Very nice features for teen drivers…or any driver. Last week I told you about the Pomodoro Technique for time management. I’ve tried it a few days, and I think it really is an effective method for pacing myself. I used this online countdown timer. It was convenient because most of my work was right at my desk.

Reacting

My friend Charity has learned that cancer has returned. She writes of her river of tears. But she also writes,

I choose a wobbly faith in a Sovereign God who loves me over cursing God and dying.

I may cry a river a tears, but I pray they will gather in a pool and bring life in a dry season.

Writing

I continue to deal with a wheezy cough and now a sinus infection. It’s left me so congested and tired that I’ve been unable to focus or function well. As a result, it’s been challenging to write. I have nothing worth reporting under this heading.Works Cited:

• Shaw, Luci. Breath for the Bones: Art, Imagination, and Spirit. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2007. Print.
• Images: “Question Proposed” photo by Ethan Lofton. Used under a Creative Commons license via Flickr.com. Book & Dingo Dental Sticks, daughter’s homemade henna art, lamp and crystals photos by Ann Kroeker (tall lamp photo by S. Kroeker).

Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: July 20, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

In his poem “In Memoriam,” romantic poet Alfred Lord Tennyson expresses his view that loss is an unavoidable consequence of love. Yet, rather than shunning love because of this, Tennyson resolves to accept both the experience of love and the pain that inevitably comes with it. As he writes in his often quoted passage, “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”Adapted from James R. Kincaid, Tennyson’s Major PoemsAssignment:Are people unwise to pursue love even when they know it will cause them pain? Plan and write an essay in which you develop your point of view on this issue. Support your position with reasoning and examples taken from your reading, studies, experience, or observations.

A student taking the SAT would have only 25 minutes to plan, develop and write this essay. Here’s a countdown timer you can use, should you accept the same challenge.Ready? Don’t try to sneak in extra thinking time. Just write.Go on. Write.

:::

Here’s another one directly from the College Board, the brains behind the SAT design (this prompt is from the June 2011 test):

Think carefully about the issue presented in the following excerpt and the assignment below.People assume that every accomplishment—each step in what we call progress—will lead to the solution to a problem and will help them reach the goal of understanding themselves and the world around them. In reality, however, each new answer provokes additional questions and each fresh discovery uncovers further complications. Every accomplishment leads to further problems, added responsibilities, more complications, and new challenges.Assignment: Does every achievement bring with it new challenges? Plan and write an essay in which you develop your point of view on this issue. Support your position with reasoning and examples taken from your reading, studies, experience, or observations.

If you get going on this, here are some more prompts to try.Happy thinking. And writing.Work Cited:Robinson, Adam, John Katzman, and Staff of The Princeton Review. Cracking the SAT 2011 Edition. New York: Random House, 2010. Print.Pencil photo by mammal, used under a Creative Commons license via Flickr.com.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Short Essay Practice appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

:::

Darlene inspired me to grab my camera when she asked, “How did you see God today?” Read about it (and admire her photography) THERE (“Have You Seen God Today”), and then come back HERE again! Oh, and be sure to visit Charity, host of There & Back Again.

All photos by Ann Kroeker.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post There and Back Again: So Much Life appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal, a recap of the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

I copied this down from Steven Pressfield’s quick read, The War of Art (he said he learned it from Robert McKee):

“A hack, he says, is a writer who second-guesses his audience. When the hack sits down to work, he doesn’t ask himself what’s in his own heart. He asks what the market is looking for…He writes what he imagines will play well in the eyes of others. He does not ask himself, What do I myself want to write? What do I think is important? Instead he asks, What’s hot, what can I make a deal for?” (Pressfield 152)

Even though it might pay off, Pressfield warns against creating content solely to please “the market.””Given the depraved state of American culture,” he says, “a slick dude can make millions being a hack. But even if you succeed, you lose, because you’ve sold out your Muse, and your Muse is you, the best part of yourself, where your finest and only true work comes from” (Pressfield 152-153).I don’t believe in the ancient muses, nor do I feel it’s an accurate description of the best part of me; however, when I sit down to write, I do pay attention to what’s in my heart and I want to offer my “finest and only true work.”If I may be so bold, though, I would go a step further than Pressfield and suggest that, as someone who belongs to Christ, I sense that my best work is a result of connecting with the Lord. I long to live my life interacting intimately with the Savior so that my heart naturally overflows with the good stuff of that relationship.On July 11, I read Oswald Chambers’ thoughts in My Utmost for His Highest:

“The Holy Spirit is determined that we shall realize Jesus Christ in every domain of life, and He will bring us back to the same point again and again until we do. Self-realization leads to the enthronement of work; whereas the saint enthrones Jesus Christ in his work.”

I want to “realize” Jesus Christ in my writing, enthroning Him in my work.That theology puts into perspective the self-realization and self-help ideas found in How to Think Like Leonardo da Vinci: Seven Steps to Genius Every Day, by Michael J. Gelb.I’m enjoying that book, but I mentally adjust the assignments and suggestions to line up with “realizing Jesus Christ in every domain of life.” I’m still in the section entitled, “Curiosità: An Insatiably Curious Approach to Life and an Unrelenting Quest for Continual Learning” (Gelb 48).I did purchase a blank book to serve as a Leonardo-style journal. I’m happy with its functionality as I record quotations and confessions, questions and ideas, prayers and petitions, passages of prose and stanzas of poetry. I was also struck that Leonardo, in his final days, was reportedly filled with repentance and apologized to “God and man for leaving so much undone.” (38)Lord, help us all to explore our potential every day…to stay open and pay attention to Your inspiration; take risks; and see things through to completion, faithfully doing a little (or a lot) every day.

Playing

Well, I took the kids to the pool a couple of times.And I’m enjoying snapping more pictures, playing around with my camera.

Learning

A post by Joshua Leatherman published at Michael Hyatt’s blog caught my eye: “How to Use Batching to Become More Productive.” Batching, Leatherman explains, is “dedicating blocks of time to similar tasks in order to decrease distraction and increase productivity.”He cites a Harvard Business Review blog post in which the author claims our productivity goes down by 40 percent when we try to multitask. Technically, we aren’t doing several things at once when we multitask; rather, we are rapidly switching from one task to another. This switching back and forth interrupts our productivity.Batching as a productive alternative to multitasking seems like an easy switch. Using a timer to dedicate a unit of time (25 minutes is recommended) to a particular task, Leatherman and the Pomodoro folks (coined the “Pomodoro” Technique for the tomato-shaped timer that the Italian creator utilized the first time he organized his work in blocks of time) claim we can get more done by staying focused and minimizing the distractions of e-mails and phone calls—that’s because those smaller tasks can be grouped into 25-minute units all their own.Leatherman recommends the Pomodoro Technique:

Here’s how it works:

1. Plan and prioritize the tasks that need to be completed, by writing them down.
2. Set a timer for for 25 minutes and devote that time to a task, or to a group of similar tasks. Larger tasks can be broken into multiple blocks or “pomodoro’s,” and smaller tasks (responding to email, returning phone calls, etc) can be grouped into a single block. After completing each Pomodoro, you put an “X” next to it and mark the number of times that you were distracted.
3. Take a 5 minute break.
4. Begin another block of time or “pomodoro.”
5. After completing 4 pomodoro’s, take an extended 20 minute break.

According to the Pomodoro website, you should see noticeable improvements in your productivity almost immediately and mastery of the technique in 7–20 days.

Working from home, I feel that I can only chip away at tasks and to-do lists due to interruptions and distractions. Batching—dedicating a small chunk of time to a particular task—seems like a simple, reasonable solution to try. I hope to report back next week with impressive results.(If you want to try the Pomodoro Technique but don’t have a cute tomato-shaped kitchen timer to keep you on track, turn up your computer speakers and try this online countdown timer.)

Reacting

Indiana has dropped cursive writing from its public school curriculum.Is cursive handwriting obsolete in a high-tech world? Individuals and experts have been reacting to this news story, offering their thoughts and opinions. I didn’t scour the Internet for too many, but did note one in the print version of the Wall Street Journal entitled “The Handwriting is on the Wall.” The author reflected on his inky childhood and several handwritten assignments and tests that Indiana schoolchildren will never have the pleasure of enduring. What struck me most was his conclusion:

When I scrawled and blotted and smudged my way across the page, I had the feeling that, for good or evil, what I had done was my own and unique. And since everyone’s writing was different, despite the uniformity of the exercises, our handwriting gave us a powerful, and very early, sense of our own individuality.

Cursive writing was a way to make your mark, literally, and reflect or suggest something about yourself. Thinking back, I can recall the variety of handwriting I’d see on notes and papers: over-sized, loopy handwriting with hearts dotting the “i’s” allowed girls to express their femininity; artistic types employed curious curls or angles, depending on their mood; intense or shy students could compress their handwriting into tight, tiny script.Students who don’t learn cursive and restrict their handwriting to print will have to find their personal expression of individuality elsewhere (they may also have to hire someone from out of state to sign their checks).Another article from 2010 provides a scientific argument for “How Handwriting Trains the Brain“:

Using advanced tools such as magnetic resonance imaging, researchers are finding that writing by hand is more than just a way to communicate. The practice helps with learning letters and shapes, can improve idea composition and expression, and may aid fine motor-skill development.It’s not just children who benefit. Adults studying new symbols, such as Chinese characters, might enhance recognition by writing the characters by hand, researchers say. Some physicians say handwriting could be a good cognitive exercise for baby boomers working to keep their minds sharp as they age.Studies suggest there’s real value in learning and maintaining this ancient skill, even as we increasingly communicate electronically via keyboards big and small.

I’m on my computer a lot, but look what I did when I wanted to explore my questions and curiosity?

(blurred for privacy)

Writing

My journal. E-mails. Tweets. Blog posts. That blasted writing plan for fall (it haunts me, because I’m so behind; it’ll be the first thing to tackle in 25-minute “pomodoros”). My uninspiring list of writing projects does send me to my heart, to prayer, asking if there is something else to say—is there something more? something different? something more substantial?Works Cited:

• Gelb, Michael J. How to Think Like Leonardo da Vinci: Seven Steps to Genius Every Day. New York: Dell, 1998. Print.
• Pressfield, Steven. The War of Art: Winning the Inner Creative Battle. New York: Rugged Land, LLC, 2002. Print.
• Images: “Question Proposed” photo by Ethan Lofton. Used under a Creative Commons license via Flickr.com. Journal and lifeguard stand photos by Ann Kroeker.

Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: July 13, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal, a recap of the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

:::

Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

I finished The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Rubin. To raise her happiness quotient, Rubin identified areas to explore and improve over the course of a year, dedicating a month to such goals as boosting energy, improving her marriage, making time for friends and pursuing a passion.While finishing up the last few chapters, I realized how personal a project like hers has to be; how each reader would have to define his own modest or audacious goals and resolutions. Though I won’t be launching a year-long happiness project, I am inspired to experiment with activities and evaluate values that may be misaligned or neglected.At her blog by the same name as the book, Rubin encourages others to pursue happiness in practical, measurable ways. This month’s theme at her blog is “creativity” and this week’s resolution is to do something every day. You can watch her vlog to learn more.I pulled another book off my shelf, but hesitate revealing the title because it is so over-the-top. I don’t want you to think I’m too big for my britches.Oh, I’ll tell you anyway. It’s called How to Think Like Leonardo da Vinci: Seven Steps to Genius Every Day, by Michael J. Gelb.The first step to genius (stop snickering) is “Curiosità: An insatiably Curious Approach to Life and an Unrelenting Quest for Continual Learning” (Gelb 48).As you probably know, da Vinci’s notebooks model vibrant curiosity and creativity. Questions, observations, and sketches of fanciful inventions as well as meticulous anatomical studies cover the pages.I’ve resolved to get a blank book to serve as a Leonardo-style journal. Presumptuous? Perhaps. But, hey, it’s a free country. And while genius is rare, nice blank books are easy to come by, so they must be intended for the common man. Just imagine if, while writing and sketching, more and more people tap into latent genius just waiting to express itself on those clean white pages.Gelb encourages a few curiosity-starters for one’s journal, including ten “power questions.” The first one could launch a fascinating self-analysis session:“When am I most naturally myself? What people, places, and activities allow me to feel most fully myself?” (Gelb 60).I scribbled it in my old lined journal this morning, but haven’t fully explored it yet nor reached a conclusion. How about you? When are you most naturally yourself?

Playing

On Sunday, to participate in Monday’s Gratitude Community at Holy Experience, I poked around our property looking for stuff I’m grateful for—stuff that makes me happy. Now I see why Claire Burge, photo editor for TheHighCalling, coined the name “PhotoPlay” to capture the fun of our community photography projects. As I moved in close or experimented with angles, I realized how much I love it.

Learning

Thanks to Charity, I learned about the bokeh effect. And then on my photo outing, I happened to snap a shot that produced those blurred circles of light shimmering in the background, lending a hint of mystery or romance to an otherwise mundane scene.I’m tickled, I tell you.This happy accident reawakened my long-time desire to be a better photographer, so when I stumbled upon Shelli at Hopefully Devoted and she sent me to Darcy’s “31 Days to a Better Photo” series, I bookmarked it and took note of the first two assignments.Day 1: Take the photo. “You will never get a second chance at that moment,” Darcy advises. “It’s a simple one, clearly. But how many times have you meant to bring the camera but didn’t?”Day 2: Find your camera manual. Implied, of course, is to find and read your camera manual. I’ve found it; now I need to read it.

Reacting

I guess the biggest news is the Casey Anthony “not-guilty” verdict, but I haven’t been following it closely enough to react publicly.

Writing

My continual flow of words has splashed across the computer screen and into a blog post or dribbled more slowly onto the physical pages of a bound journal. No big projects are in progress at the moment, however, unless you count the writing class for which I’m prepping. And I don’t count that, so you shouldn’t, either.

Work Cited:Gelb, Michael J. How to Think Like Leonardo da Vinci: Seven Steps to Genius Every Day. New York: Dell, 1998. Print.

Image Credits:Leonardo Notebook by Todd Dailey. Used under a Creative Commons license via Flickr.com.

“Question Proposed” photo by Ethan Lofton. Used under a Creative Commons license via Flickr.com.

Book cover, day lily, camera manual, and clothespin photos by Ann Kroeker.

There’s always more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Want to slow down in our fast-paced world? Check out Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Curiosity Journal: July 6, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

photo by Ann Kroeker

There’s more to come: subscribe to Ann Kroeker by e-mail

Families wanting to slow down in our fast-paced world: Not So Fast.

“Like” me on Facebook.

Follow me on Twitter.

The post Sparkler Scribbles appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Shyly joining Ann Voskamp’s Gratitude Community.

The post Giving Thanks for Small Things in a Great Country appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.