Creativity vs. Inner Critic

In our professional and personal lives, the nagging voice of the inner critic often serves as a gatekeeper, demanding perfection before creativity even has a chance to breathe. Shutting down that voice is one of the greatest acts of liberation we can gift ourselves.

What if following the pull of doing something that brings you joy is at odds with the voice of the inner critic? What then? 

As someone who has fought with my own inner critic, I know it’s daunting to create amidst the noise of negativity. Recently for me, joy and my inner critic went a few rounds over something I made: a 2025 Creativity Calendar. 

In the early rounds, joy was dominating. But the inner critic was only temporarily wobbled. Then she came back swinging.

(For clarity, the 2025 Creativity Calendar is simple. By doodling, drawing or writing in just one square a day for a year, you’ll nurture your inner child artist and create a sense of calm. Over time, you create your own unique pieces of art and a historical record of the year as told by your imagination.)

I shared the calendar with my newsletter subscribers a few days ago. 

That’s when my inner critic got loud. “It’s so basic. Who cares? What value will others see in its simplicity? No one will want that.”

Authors of The Tools, Phil Stutz and Barry Michels, would say the black cloud had taken over. The "black cloud" refers to a metaphorical state of mind where a person is consumed by negative thoughts, worry, and self-doubt, creating a feeling of negativity that hangs over them like a dark cloud. It's a concept used to describe a pervasive negative mindset that can be dispelled through practices like "grateful flow" which encourages focusing on positive aspects of life.

After about 24 hours in the black cloud, I emerged. 

The calendar is a way to practice unfiltered creativity—the kind that doesn’t care about accolades or outcomes. Every creative endeavor doesn’t need to culminate in an Emmy, a buyout, or social recognition.

Creativity is a practice, not a performance. Since the start of 2024 when I added the creativity calendar to my morning routine of reading, exercise, meditation, and journaling, the daily doodle has brought me some peace and amusement. But it’s more than that. 

Over the course of a tumultuous year, my 2024 Creativity Calendar tells a visual story of my highs, lows, and the gray zones in between—a story even my journal doesn’t capture. What might your 2025 story look like? 

By simply befriending a blank page with a colored pencil in hand, you give your imagination permission to play and your inner critic permission to take a much-needed nap. This act of small, consistent creativity has the power to shift how we approach both life and work, reminding us that sometimes, simplicity is the most profound form of expression.

Color Your Future

Close your eyes. Imagine yourself at age seven. See yourself in a comfortable space. Maybe you’re in your childhood bedroom on a slow summer afternoon. Can you see your hair as it looked back then, your outfit, maybe your missing front tooth?

Now see your eyes and your entire being locked in on a coloring book page with a box of crayons half spilled next to you. Your head is tilted. Jaw loose. Nothing else matters. Your inner artist is at work.

As adults, we neglect this little one.

I’ve created a 2025 Creativity Calendar as a way for us to engage this inner child and to color just one square a day for a year. After 365 days, you’ll have your own unique artwork reflecting your original historical record of the year.

Every creative endeavor doesn’t need to have a potential endpoint of an Emmy, a buyout or social recognition. I added the creativity calendar to my morning routine of reading, exercise, meditation and journaling. This daily doodle practice brings me calm and amusement.

Beyond that, it tells a story, maybe an unexpected one. Throughout the landscape of a tumultuous year, my calendar tells a story of highs and lows and gray zones beyond the one my journal holds. What might yours look like?

Befriending a blank page with a colored pencil in hand gives your imagination permission to play. And it helps to put your inner critic down for a nap.

Click for the 2025 Creativity Calendar digital download

Click the 2025 Creativity Calendar image here to download the digital document. Just print, staple and start.

And enjoy.

Don’t judge it. Just create.

Winter’s Quiet Invitation

Winter, with its biting cold and barren landscapes, holds an invitation in its stillness. 

The season invites us to pause, subtract, synthesize, and create. 

Amidst the cold, a personal and professional pot of creativity simmers. In the pause of the season, the question is: Can we remember to focus on its power and potential?

Winter teaches us, sometimes with an icy chill, that subtraction can be a gift. 

Trees shed their leaves, animals retreat, and the land pares back to its essentials. 

We, too, can let go—of old stories, tired character traits and emotional residue that no longer serve us. Winter’s austerity reveals what truly matters. This process of subtraction isn’t about loss; it’s about shoring up resilience. And it’s about preparation.

Can you think of a time when subtraction, in retrospect, was a gift in some way?

As though nature’s hand is helping us to create a clearing, in it we can discover seeds of ideas, habits, and creative projects. Unlike spring’s bright energy, winter’s slower rhythm moves like deliberate footsteps on fresh snow, encouraging thoughtful cultivation and growth. 

The song of the season is soft and steady, like the quiet, strong beat of a deep, slow drum.

Winter invites us to connect more deeply—with ourselves and others. It’s the perfect season to listen to a friend’s childhood tales or uncover the forgotten stories of our parents’ younger years.

Within this atmosphere, synthesis thrives. 

As if gathered in a rustic lodge near a copse of trees, the trio of inspiration, experience, and knowledge come together. From this meeting, connections emerge and weave a new fabric for our future.

Creation takes root. Long nights of darkness direct us inward, where imagination lives. Creativity is there.

The dormant appearance of the season is an illusion. This is a season of growth and innovation. 

Winter is proof that even in life’s coldest, most unpromising moments, there is potential for transformation. Winter’s true gift is its quiet reminder that even in stillness, life moves forward. 

For now, let it snow in sparkling flakes — tiny, magical, geometric reminders to look up at the night sky in awe — and pause, subtract, synthesize, and create.

TUNE IN TO TALES OF LIVING AND WONDER

 “During a sandstorm in the daytime, 

I could lay in the bunkhouse and 

watch the sand seep in through the light bulbs.” 

[Story shared with me by a woman who is 82 years old]

The start of that story is so visual. With one simple sentence, we are there.

In 2024, by asking new questions of new people, I’ve heard stories that are captivating and authentic. They’re visceral for the people sharing them, and they’re palpable for the listener. Can you think of a few stories you heard this year that moved you, dazzled you, mystified you, enchanted you? I bet more than a few of them connected you in a new way to the person who shared.

“One day my dad and grandpa saw some guys walking out of the woods carrying a bunch of fish. My dad said, 'Where have you been?’ They said, 'Into the next lake.’  Dad said, 'I didn't know there was another lake in there.’ Eventually my dad was presented with an opportunity to purchase property on that lake even though he didn’t have enough money to do it. He paid with chicken eggs every week over the course of an entire year.” 

[Shared with me by a man who is 82 years old]

These aren’t my stories. But I felt them deeply. Their words, their inflections, their emotion all stemmed from someone else’s personal human experiences and interactions. These stories tap into another place and time. They evoke imagery of environment and sentiment. They tell tales of living, observing and of wonder. They remind us of our common humanity.

Can you see your great grandparents when you look into the eyes of your relatives? 

Can you imagine the lives of ancestors in the eyes of strangers? 

Can you feel a sense of tradition and her story in the way your grandmother dressed or the sweetness she uses when she pats your hand?

2024 AND YOU

How can your family’s tales of living, observing and of wonder be harnessed today? 

Maybe you can be the one at your table this year who goes beyond the always meaningful question about gratitude. Maybe you can start a trend of learning just a little bit more, and taking the time to find out what people care about. 

Hear from the storytellers and the quiet ones. Wait in loving silence as the highly sensitive ones search for their words to share exactly what is on their heart. 

HERE ARE A FEW IDEAS IF YOU NEED A SPARK OF INSPIRATION:  

a. Ask each guest (family and friends) to write one story-related question on a piece of paper, then place them all in a bowl. Take turns drawing the questions, read them aloud, and have each person volunteer to share.

b. Ask: In what ways are you most creative? In what ways would you like to be more creative? (For example, I might say I feel most creative when I do photography. I’d like to be a more creative writer).

c. Ask: What are you not very good at? What are/were you really pretty good at?  (For example, I might say I’m not very good at small talk. But I am pretty good at listening).

d. Ask: What single area of learning gave your life direction, joy, hope or just pure fun?  (For example, I might say practicing martial arts).

e. Ask: What are five life lessons each person wants to offer to others?  (For example, I might say 1. Show up. 2. Get moving, in nature, if possible. 3. Trust yourself. 4. Keep learning. 5. When in doubt, assume good intentions.)

Maybe you're alone today. Try asking some of these questions of yourself. Get to know yourself better. Write down your answers or hit “record” on your phone’s voice recording app. 

Maybe you’re missing someone. If it feels right, perhaps you can honor them by sharing your favorite stories or qualities about them.

This holiday season, if you are fortunate to gather with others for food, friendship and fellowship, maybe you can allow connection and storytelling to be your nourishment. Maybe you can let curiosity be your sustenance. And maybe you can let listening to others as they share be the sweetest dessert you consume. 

You can start all of this the moment the door opens.

I challenge you to greet each guest with a statement or question you’ve never used with them before. What could you say to elicit welcome surprise, joy and warmth?

I’m cheering you as you establish a new dynamic through the magic of stories this year. No matter our age, only today is guaranteed. 

With love to you and yours!

Stephanie

PS: Tell me one of your short stories.

5 Ideas for Guiding Your Holiday Story Exchange Experience

After writing on the topic of getting ultra intentional about family story sharing this holiday season, a friend of mine called to say she and her family plan to do it. They’re moving into a new home, and this will be their first holiday season spent there. To make it extra special, they’re going to make story exchange their gift exchange. I think that’s rich. And budget-friendly too.

If you’ve been giving this some consideration, here are a few ideas to guide the story sharing experience.

1. Communicate in advance. Prior to your get-together, give others a chance to put on their thinking caps. Let your loved ones know your intention of sharing stories. Frame it up as an occasion to share family heritage about people who have already passed and to learn fun details about the lives of those you’ll share a table with this year. This isn’t a contest or interrogation. It’s an opportunity to share well, love well, and listen well.

2. Set a timer. Having a timer will help guide a long-winded relative to share the long story short. You want to make sure there is room enough for everyone to share and for energy to remain high. This is also why communicating in advance is helpful.

3. Help each other. If you’re having difficulty thinking of something to share, try passing around a notepad. Have a page for each attendee on which other family members can write questions if they like. Maybe you want to know more about the interests your grandma had as a young lady. You can ask. Maybe you don’t know much about your 8 year old nephew. Here’s a perfect chance to find out what he enjoys and cares about. 

4. Think in blocks. If you go blank every time someone asks your favorite book or movie, it may help you to think in categories. You’ll likely discover some good questions this way. Here are some examples:  1) Decade blocks. What significant things happened in your 20s, 30s, 40s, etc? 2) Geographic blocks. What was your life like when you lived in each of the places you have lived? 3) Interest blocks. Think about relevant details that mattered to you when you participated in your favorite activities — skating, sewing, playing music. How did you get started? Why did you love it? Why did you stop? 4) Relationship blocks. Who was a formative friend group or person in your life that others might not know about? A favorite teacher? 5) Favorite blocks. (It’s worth a try). What are your favorite songs, books, colors, places, etc?  6) Growth blocks. When did you experience a coming alive? Describe a time in your life when you felt significant personal growth or change.

5. Set expectations. Establish from the start that this is a safe space. No one is there to judge or to harm. Make a commitment as you set expectations that everyone will be an attentive and compassionate  listener. There may be some emotions that come up — and that may be a cathartic thing. If things are hard, support each other. And if things are funny, by all means embrace the hilarious.

Perhaps you think your family won’t go for it. Well, you can still foster an atmosphere of storytelling through your curious, caring spirit and the easy way you show interest in others. You can give the gift of making every single person feel seen, heard and valued this season.

Would you like more ideas? Let me know in the comments.

This Holiday Season, Sharing Stories That Unite Us

I’m sitting in a warm cafe not far from an ice cold lake. The sun is white like winter, and the aroma of roasted coffee beans fills the air. I’m putting the finishing touches on some thoughts about (my idea of ) the best kind of holiday gift exchange. 

Elderly man sits with back to camera in open air cafe setting wearing brown ribbed sweater and leaning on left elbow. Coffee cup on table to his right.

Just as I was thinking about this, something else mingled with the comfortable chaos of coffee house sounds.  The volume was turned up on an election-related ‘conversation’ just a few tables away. I threaded my fingers under my hair, discreetly stuffing them in my ears to maintain my own thoughts. But I couldn’t hear them anymore. Not over their conversation. So I simultaneously closed my eyes and rolled them, then sniffed a chuckle at the synchronicity of the moment.

Elderly woman’s hands folded over a black and white checked cotton skirt.

We’ve already seen the national percentages that illustrate our nation’s ideological and issues-based divides. I’m not indifferent. I was reminded of that as I overheard the cafe chatter. I know you’re not indifferent either.

Beautifully set dinner table with colorful salad in large bowl atop lacy white table cloth, orange and brown napkins sitting on plates, with clear crystal drinking glasses.

But this holiday season, what if we turned the spotlight to family stories? Sharing family stories now may be more important than ever, a positive way to dial down the divisive atmosphere of politics stoked by the tense election season.

Think of your gatherings as opportunities for the best kind of gift exchange. It’s old school, it’s time tested and it’s enduring.

If you haven’t already, maybe now is the time to embrace ancient oral storytelling traditions. Maybe now is the time to share knowledge, culture, and ideas through speech, through song, and even through shared silence. Sharing family stories curates a family culture of curiosity and caring. Plus, family gatherings are rare occasions when multiple generations are sharing food, space, and time. What a gift! These moments are ideal for asking questions and building connections.

Watch the eyes of grandparents light up when someone takes a genuine interest in their stories. Then watch them reverse age before your eyes as they travel through story to another time and place. Feel your own eyes illuminate when that grandparent asks about your life then listens with love.

What if we prepare ourselves to be focused on the stories that unite us?

• Did you know … the currency grandpa used to purchase that land was eggs? 

• Did you know … she had a gift for learning foreign languages?

• Did you know … they took only two vacations in their lifetime?

• Did you know … what games they played as kids? 

• Did you know … the courage they’ve shown throughout their life?

This holiday season, we have a choice. We can lean into the opportunity to connect.  And we can reach across the table with curiosity through attention, patience and kindness.  

If we try it, maybe it’s a way to make the world a better place, starting right here, right now. It’s a form of ‘think globally, act locally.’

To me, a caring story exchange is the number one, best, favorite, ultimate gift exchange.

Four children outdoors near lake holding hands and jumping in air with hair flying, calm lake and setting sun in distance.

Seven Wishes

On Sunday, May 26th, it’s someone’s birthday. If you read my second book — the one about a special dog with a big dream —you know I’m talking about Bruno. Today he turns seven, in human years.

He asked me to let you know that on account of his seven years of life, he made seven wishes. Get this: They’re not for him.  He made the wishes for you. I know, soooo canine! 

1. Take a walk today. If you can’t walk, sit outside. Just try to move your body in some way. And smell everything.

2. Listen well. When someone speaks to you today, really listen. Look, be attentive, and listen like there is nothing else and no one else in the world. Tilt your head a little if you want.

3. If you don’t understand someone today, get a little closer. Seek understanding. They’ll feel your sincerity. Maybe you can put your paw on their forearm.

4. May your eyes to light up when you see your people coming. Whether they’ve been away for a minute or a month, let them know you love them by turning on the lights in your eyes. If you want to be like me, you can wiggle your hips too.

5. Forgive someone. (Maybe it’s you. Maybe today is the day you’ll forgive yourself.) I start every day like it’s all brand new.

6. If you don’t know what to do, just show up. Sit with someone. You don’t even need to speak. You can rest your chin on their shoulder. Or maybe they want to rest their chin on your shoulder.

7. Fill your day with enthusiasm! For waking up! For your meal! For the doorbell! For the new person you meet! (Please don’t overwhelm the people like I sometimes do — I tend to spring up and down when I’m excited). But definitely bring your joy!

Abstract painting by Stephanie Himango

To celebrate Bruno, this year I decided to use some pages of the book and create something new: an abstract painting. This is it.

Enjoy your long weekend, have fun and please take care.

Surfing and the Power of Proximity

First I heard the slap of bare feet running on sandy concrete, then glimpsed a small boy darting past. Blond hair mushroomed out from under his trucker hat. When the energetic beam of light stopped near me, his eyes held galaxies, fixed on a fresh autograph he’d just collected.

How old are you? 

“Nine.” 

Do you surf?

“Yeah.” (Duh)

How old were you when you started? He shrugged. 

“About four.”

Fourteen year old surfer Yang Siqi of China. Now 15, she is the first athlete from China to qualify for the Olympics in the sport of surfing. March 2024. Photo by Stephanie Himango

Just behind him, at this final Olympic-qualifying surfing event before the 2024 Olympics, tickets were being awarded to wet-headed, sun-baked athletes just five years older than he is now — athletes like then 14 year old Yang Siqi from China, her country’s first athlete to ever qualify for the Olympics in the sport of surfing. 

Nearby, 15 year old Sky Brown of Great Britain, still dripping and adrenalized, was beaming as she signed pages inside the decorated autograph books of her adoring fans. Brown was in Puerto Rico attempting a second 2024 Olympic berth. She’d already qualified for the 2024 Olympics in skateboarding, and was diving into the possibility of being a 2024 Olympic surfer as well. She didn’t qualify this time. Still, I remain fascinated by the logistical challenge a double berth would present —  given that skateboarding will take place in Paris this summer, and the Olympic surfing venue is 9,765 miles away in Teahupo’o, Tahiti.

The nine year old boy was surely absorbing the environment too. Not only was he watching his heroes paddling out to take their shot at becoming an Olympian, he was sharing space with them.

Before I could ask whose autograph he scored, the boy vanished. Like a wave.

What didn’t vanish was the lingering question around what happens to us when, at a young age, we see or hear something that captures our imagination? How formative is having this dazzling experience for him… at his tender age of nine? Maybe the question is best answered by looking into the past.

Beach Boys

About 60 years ago, in the 1960s, surfing sparked the imagination of another boy of about the same age. It would turn his world around.

Buzzy Kerbox started surfing in the 1960s, won the World Cup at Sunset Beach in 1978 and the 1980 Surfabout in Sydney, Australia.  The pro surfer and longtime Ralph Lauren model was among the spectators on the final days of the competition at Arecibo, standing  as a bridge between surfing’s past and future.

“In my day, we never had events like this, so it’s really exciting to see this. The camaraderie of the countries and the stoke and the enthusiasm for the sport… it’s rampant here. And I think the surge of the women’s talent is going to influence more women all over the world to get into the sport.”

I was curious to know his surfing origin story, so I reached out to him later. 

“I was born and lived in Indiana,” he wrote. “In the summer, the family would vacation in Florida.” 

Kerbox said that when he was eight years old, he saw a Beach Boys album cover with surfers on it.

“I thought that looked very cool. A year later, my dad moved the family to Hawaii. I went straight to Waikiki and took a surf lesson. It took over my entire life.” 

Katrina

Katrina Kruze was perched on a stairwell ledge overlooking the beach — quiet, unmoving and solitary. Her fixed attention revealed an intensity and something else — maybe a mix of adoration and respect. I turned to see what she was looking at: Athletes from countries around the world celebrating in jubilant circles, waving their flag, cheering and whooping for the success of their teammates. 

Her blue eyes were glossy with tears. The blond-haired 29 year old competitor from Latvia was out of the competition, but still soaking in the moments unfolding before her with the presence and soul of an athlete.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she confessed. “It’s just so beautiful to see people achieving their dreams.” 

She turned her gaze back to the celebrations of athletes from Germany, Morocco and Indonesia. 

“I don’t even know them,” she said. 

“I come from a small country.  I only surfed three years, and I get to be here… I’m just really grateful being part of it.”

She smiles bright, gathering her composure, and continues.

“The last few days you see people feeling crushed and feeling happy, and there’s just so much empathy here.”

I tried to imagine embarking on a brand new sport at the age of 26 — knowing your competition have five, 10 or even 20 years of experience on you. And in spite of that, here you are, three years later, competing alongside the sport’s best in the world. Positively gritty.

Surfer Katrina Kruze of Latvia. March 2024. Photo by Stephanie Himango

Growing up, Kruze didn’t know anyone who surfed. She’d never even seen it. She told me in an email that she first heard about surfing when she was 14 years old. As she recalls it now, an adult noticed how she lit up when wakeboarding and forecasted one day she would surf ocean waves. It would be another 12 years until she had a real opportunity to try surfing. She said that when COVID started, she hopped between countries for a year and learned to surf. 

With an unbridled sense of adventure, hard work and determination, she caught the surfing wave and rode it all the way to Puerto Rico. She said she sometimes wonders, "How good would I surf… if I started earlier?” But she doesn’t let it linger. Play and adrenaline mixed with nature provide the excitement she craves.

 Water As North Star

There’s something about the water and those unpredictable crests that makes the surfing community return to them, wave after wave. Like returning to one’s true nature.

Standing along the shoreline of Arecibo, Puerto Rico, first I was struck by the tropical beauty of the rocky coast against the expanse of churning blue sea. Palm trees whoosh like paint brushes across a canvas of sky, pushed along by warm breezes.

When I stepped a little closer, I could see beyond mother nature to glimpse human nature. Alongside mountaineers, surfers must be just about as close to one with nature as any athlete can be.

They immerse themselves in nature’s glory and fury. They ride waves of terrifying enormity and potential as they dance with danger. Standing on land witnessing this spectacle of daring, it’s awe that washes over me.

Mutual Admiration

“I’ve been around surfing for 45 years now competitively, and I love commentating and calling the heats.”

Barton Lynch was in Puerto Rico lending his perspective to the International Surfing Association’s (ISA) coverage, and his love of surfing stretches into coaching and mentoring.  The Australian is known for his style, and winning the 1988 world surfing champion is one among many achievements and accolades. Lynch says he started surfing when he was about seven years old. Living at the beach and seeing surfing every day, he said he had to try.

“It really makes me feel great to watch the young people and to see the Olympic tickets get given and the joy on everyone’s faces. Honestly, I sit there in the booth and tear up from time to time because it’s just so cool. You see people’s dreams come true.” 

That’s how Shane Dorian sees it too. The surf legend got his start right around his fifth birthday. After more than a decade on the pro circuit, Dorian became a pioneer of big-wave surfing and is active in coaching and mentoring the next generation too.

"I came to Puerto Rico when I was a kid, like 16 years old, for the World Juniors with Team Hawaii. It was just a great time in my life and good memories from that week being here.

“It’s a lot different being on the other side of it. First as a competitor, now as a coach. It’s really fun to be able to feel like you’re helping the team as a whole and helping individual athletes achieve their dream.”

A New Generation

All of this made me feel hopeful for my mushroom-haired friend and every other young spectator. As much as his young spirit might hold dreams, honor heroes and herald a higher calling, so too, the elders want to see those who follow them succeed. The wise teachers understand if the student surpasses the teacher, they both win. 

Fernando Aguerre, president of the International Surfing Association (ISA), wearing rings representing peace, love and surfing. March 2024. Photo by Stephanie Himango

Bigger Than Surfing

For ISA President Fernando Aguerre, surfing isn’t so much a sport as it is a way of life. He’s not alone in this thinking.

“For me it’s happiness, and I carry it in my hand!” His fingers stretched like a starfish, he energetically points to the rings circling three of them. One by one he declared: “Peace! Love! And surfing!”

When that’s the ethos, can you really lose? No, you can’t. Whether you start at five, 25 or 85.

Meetup Imagined

I imagine the two of us meeting for coffee today at a medium-sized cafe that has a mix of open spaces and small nooks. There are dark painted walls, mismatched chairs and plenty of high mounted mirrors to reflect the great lighting that a designer caringly curated. Windows frame the rays from the sun, and the air is clean with spider plants and dieffenbachias.

The floors are concrete and there is dried paint splattered there. The cafe’s wooden tables are worn, well-loved and also for sale. (You spotted that detail as you eyed the grilled cheese being enjoyed by a person drinking tea.) I love how you’re so observant.

Maybe the space is lined with black and white portraits and colorful paintings in frames made from metal, wood and twine… cork, seashells and discarded rulers. These glimpses of lives well lived stretch high to the tin ceilings. There are people of all ages and backgrounds here, and we’re inspired by their sense of personal style and the way they love a great coffee house vibe. We exchange smiles with a passerby, and in that moment we notice the gentle vocals from the live one-person show.

As I imagine us meeting in this way — excited to be seeing you, a friend I so look forward to spending time with — I’d want to know how you are, what has been in your heart and on your mind lately and what has been lighting you up inside. I’d want to know about your latest adventures and your latest sticking points too. Maybe we could work through some of it together.

We’d talk about books, for sure. What you have read or listened to lately. Most of all, what you learned or found intriguing. Especially what astonished you.

I’d share what I’ve been reading too. I always have one paperback or hardcover book going along with at least one audio book. I read the book first thing every morning.  And I listen to audio books on almost every walk, car or elliptical ride, and often when I’m cleaning.  I’d share that with you, then we’d come back to the hard copies and what was underlined. I love hearing about what you underlined. And I also love sharing some of my underlined sections.

Perhaps I’ll share some underlined book sentences or short sections with you here until we can enjoy that coffee for real. And then maybe you can share yours back with me in the comments so others can benefit from your findings too. Or share them with me privately by replying to this email. 

As I would in person, I may or may not add context to the underlined parts. Sometimes things just need to sit a bit, sink in, just be there in your psyche. And it can be enough that we find something interesting in the moment we read it. Maybe the why of it will happen later. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter.

If it moves us, educates us, entertains us, expands our understanding of a subject or a person, I think it’s worthwhile. Such as these:

1.

“The trick to overcoming the paralysis of mental entrapment is to ignore the instinct to act immediately. Often the best way to deal with being mentally stuck is to do less.” 

Anatomy of a Breakthrough by Adam Alter, page 61

2.

“Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don’t give up.” 

Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, page xxiv

Wishing you a fabulously rich first day of May. May you find your way through every challenge and rise to meet it. Rise today. Then, really shine. Until next time.

The Thing About Clouds

I found a small open park near the water tower, spread my towel across the grass, pushed off my shoes and sat barefoot on the ground.  I wasn’t alone — it was me on that stretch of grass along with a number of people who also picked this place to watch the eclipse. People whooped and cheered and clapped and roared when the sun and moon and Earth aligned. There it was: Totality.

A little girl, about five years old, shouted to her mom that it was the best day ever and thanked her for bringing her to see this. I couldn’t help but turn around to make eye contact with the mom and flashed an expression of bursting heart eyes ready to fill with water and sparkles. They were three, a mom and her young son and daughter. The son had a blue-green cast on his arm and I wondered why. Years from now, I imagine those children recalling this memorable day with their mom.

At this place on Earth, it was cloudy, in that blotted gray sort of way. Everyone was here early. When the surroundings brightened, you could push on your paper glasses and faintly make out the moon and the sun juxtaposed in the shape of Pac-Man. Then the clouds concealed the show again.

I started to realize from their vantage point, the mom and her boy and girl could see the sun and moon reveal about a second before I could. One of the kids would squeal in delight: “I see it!” But I couldn’t see it and half wondered if they were declaring it in anticipation or in reality. Then “gleam!” there it was. It was like watching television on a delay — a strange real life latency period.

The thing about the clouds is they added an element of uncertainty. Will we see the big event? Or will it happen beyond the clouds? Will we get what we want? Or will we be denied? 

Throughout the lead-up to the time of totality, there was an ebb and flow of anticipation and witnessing. It felt like a sort of friction. In the unknowing, there was a buildup of energy.

A group of young men somewhere behind me at about 45 degrees provided free entertainment. They were jovial, and two of the more audible ones reminded me of the light and the dark in all of us. 

Totality was just moments away. Everyone had been there for at least an hour feeling the flood of adrenaline as the clouds collected then parted again and again. 

Just before the moment we’d all been waiting for, the clouds started to close again like a curtain of doom.

The seated man shouted: “No! No! No! Don’t do this to us! No! Don’t do it!” His voice was full with earnest pleading and maybe a glint of humor. “Come on! No!”

Eyes fixated and hopeful, I was laughing now. Other people were too. Our collective energy had to go somewhere. Was he right?

The man's friend, who was standing face skyward, answered without looking.  “There’s time! Have faith! You have to believe! There’s still time!” His message seemed to ricochet off the sun and moon and clouds before it hit his friend, and in the process all of us were reminded to keep faith too.

Just then the cloud curtain pulled back again and there was the diamond and the glistening, glorious show reminding us we are all one on this tiny little planet. 

Time really did disappear. Everyone with a view of the eclipse was awash in awe. The earth turned a form of sepia and the old time street lamps flickered on. Night? A blackbird flew to the contortionist tree in front of me, casting an unusual shadow across the lawn. This all looked like a storybook. A dream. Is this all a dream?

In that moment, I imagined the world as in Powers of Ten, the film created by Ray and Charles Eames (https://www.eamesoffice.com/the-work/powers-of-ten/). 

How tiny, how curious we must all look from out there, all these humans dotted around like Earth-bound constellations and star clusters wearing strange paper glasses and turning our faces to the sun. Like a field of sunflowers, humanity was united in a way, standing or sitting in awe of light and power and life.

Lifting their feet deliberately over the grass, the mother and her small kids were going home. As they passed by me, the mother said goodbye, (I’d taken a photo for them earlier) and the little girl turned around and looked at me, her hand still linked to her mom’s, and said, “I love the moon.”

Later I wondered, does she also love the sun? And how about the clouds?

Would the sun and the moon capture our imaginations in the same way, if not for some clouds?

*All photos are stock — not from the day of the eclipse*