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Listening Lesson #1: Pay Attention

| Shari Daniels

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Earlier this week, I was reading a thought provoking post by A.J. Juliani titled the Power of Writing Every Day, and some of his words stuck with me that I could not shake loose, so I had to write about them.

He wrote:

Instead of focusing my blog as only a place for reflection (which it sometimes is) I’ve tried to make my posts as useful and helpful for other teachers, writers, and learners as possible. Really, I try to teach with my blog as much as possible.

Thinking about my own blog posts, I began analyzing how many were reflection posts and how many were teaching.  There are probably too many reflection posts, as I use my writing for reflection, although, we also learn from these reflections, so sometimes, reflection and learning go hand in hand.

The voice of self-doubt then started to creep in and by the time I’d spent a more than adequate time thinking about it, I’d convinced myself that I spend too much time thinking about what to blog about and then actually choosing a topic for my blog to blog about and then wrestling with the content of the blog, revising, editing, etc. . . that by the time I’d finally spent a half a day with a post and hit publish, was the whole mess even worth it?  I mean, reflection or teaching ~ what’s it matter if no one reads the dang thing anyway?  Seriously, the only one who benefits is me, because maybe I learned from it.

I sat there. Defeated.

Suddenly, a pillow of smoke arose in front of my eyes at my desk.

My candle had decided to go out.

This was strange because there was plenty of wax in there to keep that candle going.  But, at that precise moment, it died.

As I looked at the candle, the “Message from My Angel” card sitting next to the candle hooked my attention.  It’s message:

You have an important life purpose involving communication and the arts.  Please don’t allow insecurities to hold you back.  I will help you.

Archangel Gabrielle ~ the angel of communication sits at my side.  She is a constant reminder to keep going.

And the candle? It’s message:

Don’t let your dream die out and go up in smoke.

It’s this kind of listening that guides me in the direction to go each day. This stillness of the mind that allows me to pay attention to the quiet whispers God is sending me is a constant conscious effort every moment of my life.  I often let my mind do all the thinking and get lost down the wrong path.  On days that I allow to unfold naturally, these messages appear constantly. They uplift my spirit and give me inspiration and courage.

Paying attention takes practice.  Most of us are rarely paying attention because we have so much on our minds and when we don’t, we reach for technology to occupy it.  These are distractions that keep us from the signs we are meant to notice.

Today, I challenge you to be still and pay attention.  You don’t need your phone with you in the bathroom.  Quit checking facebook. How many email messages do you expect to receive in an hour – do you really need to check every five minute?  Just unplug for awhile and breathe.  Your listening skills will improve and before you know it, you won’t be searching online for the answers to your questions, you’ll just be sitting still to hear them.

Shari 🙂

Gratitude Quiets The Mind

| Shari Daniels

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Bernice is on a rampage this morning. (Incase you don’t know Bernice, she’s my mind.)

Awakening on a Saturday morning at home, after being gone for almost a week, will get her going like a crazy woman with an anxiety attack.

“Get up and clean this house, for Pete’s sake, it’s disgusting – kitchen, bathroom, bedroom. . . honestly.  The heaps of dirty clothes need to get washed, there are no fresh groceries in the house – get to the store, and you’d better bake something – the boys are home – they are looking for treats, work on some school presentations and planning being  you have all this fresh knowledge in your head from Ohio, and you should get up to school and do some planning for next week anyway, oh my gosh – TAXES!  YOU NEED TO GET GOING ON TAXES!! Your car is still sitting in the driveway, you know from when you hit that deer last weekend!  You’d better get it towed to the shop – and what are you going to drive next week?  Check with insurance and see if you can get a rental and have it covered.  You have not written a blog post all week, you call yourself a writer? TAXES!!  Ugh, walk or do yoga or SOMETHING with your body today – you certainly didn’t need to eat that teramisu and french bread dipped in olive oil last week – not to mention all the other restaraunt eating that does not qualify as very healthy, better change it up – get some food prep done so you aren’t walking that path all week.  Did you exercise AT ALL last week? (Well, yes, I did yoga one day.) THAT’s not enough.  Giddyup!  You’d better call Gracie, have you checked on her lately?  And, your parents, do you even know how your dad is doing??  Check out where the world is on the Ukraine crisis – make sure you spend some time worrying about this – you have two soldier age boys, you know, you NEED to be concerned about this. . . and pray for the people on that missing plane. . . heavens. . .”

She doesn’t stop.  Not even to take a breath.  I dread getting out of bed because I don’t know where to start.

Deep breath – get up and make coffee.

Ritual.  Start with ritual.

Climbing the stairs to my sanctuary to write, I set my coffee down, light a candle and open my notebook that begs for some words on the page.

I hear Bernice tell me to tell me to hurry up – I have things to do today.

Then,  a little nudge of an angel voice whispers in my ear, “Be grateful.”

I close my eyes and breathe from a place deep within myself.

Looking out the window, above my desk, I gaze at the sea blue sky, light fluffy clouds slowly sailing to the east – like ships moving, the sun shining directly in my window onto my notebook, still in rising mode.

My soul wells up.  Bernice quiets down.

I am so grateful for this day God gave me.  This gift of grace.  Of writing, this gift I give to myself, an honoring  of my true self.  The music serenading in the backgound – Chris Rice singing Hallelujas and guitars strumming. My deep dark coffee laced with swirling almond milk – this missing during my days away from home.  The first pen grabbed to write with begs to be written with and words flow out of it. My husband, who never harps on what I should get done on the weekend – he gives me this space.

This is my heart speaking.  I call her “Rose”.

I like listening to Rose.  She’s much nicer than Bernice.

I close my notebook and ask my husband what he’s planning for the day.

He tells me, “A little tv, I might shoot my bow, we should take some fish out for supper.”

I shake my head and smile at his ability to have a quiet mind and wish I could be more like him.  I know this is why God partnered me with him.

“You wanna get bundled up and go for a walk?” I ask.

“Yup, right after this hunting show.”

“Okay.”

I decide to have another cup of coffee and start a load of laundry.

I think it’s going to be a beautiful day.

Loving a Good Disagreement

| Shari Daniels

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My teacher-friend bursts into the room with her laptop.

“Hey there, friend! Ya gotta minute?  I have to show you this  on the computer!”

“What is it?” I ask, excitedly, as I get up from my desk and meet her at the table, anxious about what we are going to see.

“It’s this new app that is out there.  It’s called Spritz. They are claiming we’ll be able to speed up our reading and finish a novel in 90 minutes!”, she beams.

“Oh my gosh!  I saw that earlier!  That’s HORRIBLE!!!! I could never read that way!” I tell her.

“Are you kidding? I WISH I would have had this app when I had to read all those boring psychology books in college!” she argues.

“Well, you wouldn’t be able to remember any of it with all of these words speeding by,” I blurt back.

“I have to disagree with ya there.  Your mind isn’t being taxed because you don’t even have to move your eyes. You don’t have to think about visual tracking, going left to right or anything.  Only thinking.”

“I think I’d be nauseous.” I tell her.

“Why? You don’t even have to move your eyes?”

“I don’t know – it freaks me out.  You would lose the savoring of the book.  Rereading to hear a beautiful phrase over, or to capture some words to use for your own writing because you love them.”

“Do you read all your books that way?”

“Well, most of them.  I’m a little whacked like that.”

“Well, I think of all the college reading that I just had to get read.  There was nothing to savor there.  This would’ve saved me boatloads of time,” she tries to convince me.

“How would you use your reading processes?  You wouldn’t be able to try to figure words out based upon them looking right, sounding right or making sense in the text because you are only given one word at a time?  What about fluency?  Without being able to see what’s coming up, you are not sure how to read with your voice?”

“All I know is that I would have loved this in college and I think it is perfect for when you have a ton to read and you have to get it done.  It’s a good option.”

“Maybe, but I’m not convinced,” I try to agree, but my gut is telling me, “I don’t think so.”

After thinking about it, maybe it would be a good app to use in some situations.  My friend’s ideas about it made me think outside of myself and into a new plane of thinking.

I love to be able to have an intellectual conversation with colleagues, disagreeing on some topic in an attempt to make sense out of something new.  There are only a few people I am able to do this with and I am blessed to have them in my life because they push my thinking and force me to reflect on my beliefs and theories of which I rest my entire teaching philosophy on. Emotions do not come into play because we know that there may not be a right answer, but that our own backgrounds and experiences can help us both to synthesize new ideas at a much greater depth than if we were to try to understand it on our own.

My thought to ponder on is, how can we nurture an environment where all groups of teachers are able to do this?  Certainly, it’s possible. But, what makes it possible?  We’ve all been in settings where it’s happened and you’ve left the group feeling like you’ve been to another planet and back.  We’ve been in other settings where it doesn’t happen and you leave feeling frustrated and stuck.

Einstein said, “We have to think with everything we have.  We have to think with our muscles.  We have to think with feelings in our muscles. Think with everything.  And so it is a flowing process which also goes outward and inward and makes communication possible.”

So, do we just have to all be thinking hard?

It’s more than that.

Joseph Jaworski writes in Synchronicity: The Inner Path of Leadership, “When people come together and go beyond their habitual way of being as a group, even more possibilities open up.  But somehow a kind of block prevents those extraordinary experiences from happening.”  He goes on to quote Bohm, “You’ve GOT to give attention to those blocks.  You’ve got to find out where it comes from both in yourself and in anybody.”   If you can achieve this, the individuals in the group would be able to operate as if with one mind.

Personally, I thrive on trips to that other planet.  I know I have to be conscious of my own blocks that I bring to a group.  The key is to help all in a group to clear these blocks as well, to allow for the intellectual ideas flow through us.

“When most oarsmen talked about their perfect moments in a boat, they referred not so much to winning a race, as to the feel of the boat, all eight oars in the water together, the synchronization almost perfect.  In moments like these, the boat seemed to lift right out of the water.  Oarsmen called that the moment of swing.”

~ David Halberstam

I think that you, pretty much, have to trust the other men in the boat.

Hmmmm. . . . a thought to ponder. . .

A Cabin Story (A Cold Morning)

| Shari Daniels

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He slept in this morning.  Way past a hunter’s hours.  Neither of us could force ourselves out of bed.  One slip of my arm outside the quilts tells me why.  It was cold.

A weekend getaway at a primitive cabin in late October sounded blissful.  My husband could hunt and I could write.  What we didn’t expect was the cold.

“The fire must have died out,” I said.

“Probly,” he replies.

“I heard you get up last night.  Didn’t you add a few logs?”

“I can’t remember.”

He didn’t.  I know.  I heard him go outside to the bathroom.  He talked to Sandy (our lab) and then came back to bed.  I don’t know what he was thinking.

“I don’t think you did,” I remind him.

“I guess I didn’t.”  He goes back to sleep.

I lie in bed awake for about an hour.  I’m not so sure I can start a fire in the stove.  Besides, I’d freeze out there.  What would I do without heat?

I could make coffee maybe.  That might coax him to get up and then he could make a fire.  I crawl out of bed.  Looking for my insulated pants, long sleeve shirt, hooded sweatshirt, wool socks and slippers, I hear him mumble something.

“You should put your clothes on under the covers,” I hear him say faintly.

“Why?”

“So they warm up.”

I look at him and shake my head.

“That’s what I do.”  He rolls over and goes back to sleep.

For Pete’s Sake.

Coffee it is.

The coffee maker is an old 1960’s plug in percolater pot.  No filters needed.  It makes dang good coffee.  And it’s loud.  Each percolation is a pop-gun.  I wrap myself in two blankets, put on my cap and mittens, grab my book and wait on the couch.

Finally. . . hook, line and sinker.

“You makin coffee?” he creeps out of the bedroom.

“Yup.”

“Geezzzz, it’s cold out here!” he notices.

“Yup.”

He starts to make a fire.

I smile.

My Angel of Love

| Shari Daniels

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Life Book 2014 Lesson for Week 9 arrived in my email inbox this week.  I stared at it and already knew that I was not going to be able to complete this lesson this week.  Just like I didn’t complete Week 8, or Week 7, or Week 6.

I joined Life Book 2014 this year because I love to art journal, but I don’t make time for it, allowing “real life” to take over most of my time.  The bliss I feel when actually creating in my art journals is pure heaven.  The world disappears and my soul is nourished.  Early on, a disciplined student was I, Weeks 1-3 were completed. Now, the lessons sit idle, waiting for me.

Writing is different.  I write every day, even if it’s only for 10 minutes.  My hang up is making it public.  Fear of putting too much out there, looking like I’m self-promoting or needing attention, or being judged are issues I wrestle with on a daily basis.  This is why I joined the Slice of Life Challenge for March ~ and hope to “put something out there” every day this month, so that it feels natural to do so.

I fear not being able to keep up with it every day, just like my Life Book class.  Who can have something worthwhile to share with the world every single day for an entire month?

A fellow facebook writer friend today told me that I have things worthwhile to say.  Her words were savored by me ~ she probably had no idea how much I needed them right then and there.

How many times have we felt that our words didn’t matter?  That our voice would not be heard even if we spoke up?  Well, it’s not true.  Our words make a difference.  Even, if it’s for only one person.  That one person who needs those words at that one time, so that’s why we write.

I’m sharing my art journal page from my first Life Book 2014 lesson this year.  She is my Angel of Love.  She is a symbol for my WOTY, which is Love.  Gazing at her, she reminds me, to love my work, love my art, love to share my message and that it matters.

Resistance. . . Big Time

| Shari Daniels

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This blog has been so neglected that I had forgotten my WordPress password and had to create another one.  How does one keep track of all the ever changing passwords?  I started a list on my Notepad app on my phone, but geez, then I was fretting about losing my phone. So, I now have a password to enter my phone.  But, I gotta remember that now.  Pretty soon we’ll need passwords to open the fridge.  Actually, that might not be a bad idea. . . 

Once into my blog page, I’d forgotten how to get to my Dashboard to start a new post.  Feeling some apprehension about even attempting a post, Wanda shows up, my inner critic witch.  Dang, I hate it when she appears.  She whispers to me in her crackling, old hag of a voice,

“You are not even supposed to be here.  You left long ago.  No one is left here to even read your words.  You betrayed your readers enticing them to follow you and then, you take off.  What a cruel joke.”

She is right.  I despise her when she is right.  Why do I even listen to her?  What could I possibly even say that would bring readers back to me?  I give her that look.  You know the one, the one that a wolf gives when you are the last piece of meat.  

She’s rolling her eyeballs now. . .

Feeling the pressure of choosing a topic for this debut return, she then leans over and breathes into my ear:

“I don’t even think they’ve missed you.”

Wicked, wicked, wicked.  

I can handle a line or two from her, but when the words are sharp and grind my soul, I whip out my sword.

“BEWARE, Wicked Wanda Witch!!! What do you think NOW?”  I slay the air a bit to show her my strength.

She is scared.  You should see her.  Behind that fake barfing, I know she’s trembling.

I will show her she is wrong.  I do deserve to be here.  There are people who will listen to my words and open their hearts to me, even if I have strayed (it might just be my mother and my sister).  I’m going to change things up.  Find a focus.  Hone in on my voice.  I won’t know what I have to say until I say it, but when I do, I promise you, I will say it in a way that you will understand. And it will be real.

Oh, and by the way, I have the secret password.

“I am a writer.”

That’s all I need.

Shari 🙂

Shaken ~ By A Coffee Shop Employee

| Shari Daniels

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I’m blessed to be able to travel to Ohio a couple of times a year for training at Ohio State University for my job as a literacy coach.  I travel alone and to be honest, I love spending time with myself alone.  The traveling is a bonus.

The mornings in Ohio are glorious.  Temperatures about 30 degrees warmer than MInnesota, the sun rises and warms the sky to wrap around you and just fill you with bliss.  My rental car, a spiffy little Chevy Cruz (a change from my big Trailblazer)  hugs the curves of the road as I drive about 15 miles to my destination.  The radio stays set at 104.9, The River, a Christian radio station that touches my soul each morning.  Yum.  Life is good.

Each morning in Columbus, on my way to training,  I swing by a Caribou Coffee shop for a large dark decaf, two shots of hazelnut syrup and steamed, whipped skim milk. ( M-m-m-m, just writing that makes me miss Ohio)  The drive through line always long, so I end up parking my car and walking inside to order.

One particular day, after placing my order and paying, I slide along the counter to wait at the end for my drink to be ready for pick up.  The gal who takes the order is never the maker of the order. She gives the order to this big, burly, 20 something year old guy who does all the coffee fixings.  I’m watching him and waiting, hoping he gets it right.

He hands me my cup and states, “Here’s your coffee.”

“Yay!” I’m rejoicing.  Happy day!  Life can begin now!

Then. . . I think, and I ask, “Is it decaf?” just to be sure.  I’ve been handed a regular coffee before, after a decaf request, and my body and mind do not sit well downing all that unintentional caffeine, so I NEED to double check.  Always.

“What?” he asks, looking at me confused.

“Is it decaf?” I ask again, a little clearer and a little louder.  Maybe he has a hearing problem, I don’t know.

He looks at me strange, then glances over at the gal who took the order and she says to him, “Yes, it’s decaf.”

He then, reports to me, “Yes, it’s decaf.”

“Thank you!” I tell him and I smile, taking my coffee and heading towards to door, all happy and warm inside.  Life is wonderful!

How could a morning be any better than this?  A perfect coffee, amazing weather, and an opportunity for me to engage in trainings that expand my mind and connect with other literacy coaches?  Honestly, I am so lucky!

Upon approaching the door, I then, hear the burly man say to the ordering gal, “Is this decaf???” in this loud, mimicing, obnoxious voice.

I stop dead in my tracks.  Jolted, I look over at him and he’s chuckling to her.  She looks at me with a “I don’t know him,” look.

What? I caught that.

Seriously?  In shock, I have trouble making my feet go forward.

My mind is asking, “Did that just happen?”

I am shaken.

As I walk to my car, stunned over this episode of pure disrespect for another’s well being, I almost forget where I am, what time it is and what I am doing there.  I manage to get inside the car and just sit there for a moment.  I take some deep breaths.

And then, I cry.

For Pete’s Sake.

“Really, Shar? You are going to let some idiot allow to enter your state of mind and wreck the flow of glorious love you are feeling?  What’s wrong with you?  He is not worth your energy or thoughts!  Shake this off!  Get a grip!”

I’m angry at myself for letting others affect me in this way.  I thought I had moved beyond this.  I’m an adult.  I can take a little criticism.  But, it’s the years of teasing in my elementary and early high school years that come flooding back.  Once a target for teasing, if that thorn is not yanked out, a little brushing up against it causes all the pain to come rushing back.  The pain is raw.

Or, (my mind running rampant now) is it that fact that I’m not some cute little young thing? I’m a middle aged, late 40ish, woman, who means nothing to this younger generation.  Ignored, unnoticed and unappreciated.  I’ll bet he would not mimic a cute 20 year old, like my daughters Gracie or Lauren.

I hate how the mind works in these situations.

I then realize that I have to write this down.  These disturbances within us are cause for a deeper exploration.  I don’t want to lose it, as uncomfortable as it is, I need to get to the root of why this stranger’s remarks can hurt me in such a way.

I drive to my training site and sit down next to a friend.  She asks how I am.  My story creeps out of me.  She looks at me with feelings of empathy and pain and tries to lift my spirits as women friends do.  “What an jerk,” she reassures me.  Then she asks, “Did you say something to him?  You should have, you know.”

Ughhh.  I know.  Now I’m even more perturbed with myself because I could not be calm enough to take a stand and say something in defense of myself.  What’s wrong with me?  I’m a mature, strong person?  Dang.  Double Dang.  I missed a major opportunity to practice standing up for myself. I’m so weak, I tell myself.

And then, this amazing thing happens.

Our topic of study in training that day?  Persuasive writing.  We dig into our memories of unjust acts towards us, how we might make the world a better place for all and putting our words on paper for the appropriate audience to make changes where change is due.

Boy, did I have stuff to write.

The Caribou Coffee shop manager was going to receive a letter from me explaining my experience.  I voiced how I did not want this nimbusul fired, but that I just wanted to make sure that they trained all their employees to treat their customers with the utmost dignity and respect.  For heaven’s sakes, the coffee shop people are often the first humans others speak to in the morning.  Their energy emits a tone for the entire day!  It should be their JOB to spread light to all they come into contact with!

Synchronicity again. The occasion happened to ready me for several opportunities, not just persuasive writing.  But, to examine what is deep inside of me that needs to be healed, and to awaken me to the fact that I need to work on wordage to stand up for myself and for others when unkind acts take place (without being a bitch ~ there is a line, you know.  However, Madonna says you have to be a bitch to get things done).

All I know is, I refuse to be a wimp anymore.  I will build my character.  Grow.  Teach others what it means to be kind and have compassion.

Maybe those idiots just don’t know. . .

Maybe their lives are far worse off than our own.

Sadly, because of their ignorance, I now, will get my coffee from Starbucks.

A Peek Into My Writers Notebook

| Shari Daniels

I’m reading through writers notebooks today, my holdalls of seeds that might grow into something big, or to just be taken as the perfect word choice in exchange for my blah ones.  I’m giving you a peek.  Because I know you’re curious. . .

I’ve used this line in even my talk.  You know this face.  What a perfect use of words to describe it.

Time magazine has such amazing writers.  I copy down sentences and word phrases that get stuck in my head and practice using them with my own words.  And, I’ll bet we all know a “glory hopper” or two. . .

I keep my notebook with me at all times.  It’s a reminder that I’m a writer and it helps me to think and see differently when I’m out there in my normal every day world.  With a pen in hand, I observe, listen and think with a writer’s eye.  .  . and get it down.

What gems lie in your notebook?  Or is there something you have heard or seen lately that needs to GO into a notebook?  I’d love to hear what you consider that “notebook worthy”.

Shari 🙂

Savory Summer Zucchini Cashew Soup

| Shari Daniels

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Miraculously, I’ve been able to continue to eat clean since this summer when I completed the Ultimate Reset with my daughter Lauren.  I just can’t seem to imagine any other way to make and eat food now.  My body craves natural food from the earth without additives and preservatives.  I can not even begin to tell you how my entire being has been transformed since all of this all of this has taken place.  I think back to the day I posted about how my body was so out of synch with my mind and soul back in July and I know that I am blessed.  Truly, Lauren has changed my life by coaching me to wellness.  You can read this post here.

Well, I’m a regular at the farmers’ markets now.  I planted my own garden this summer, but neglected to water it. . . so, um. . . everything kinda died.  I’ve decided to support our local gardeners now. 🙂

Zucchini is in abundance right now.  My generous neighbor, Linda, brings us her overflow and it’s the cheapest vegetable at the market.  This recipe is an alteration of one from the Reset.  I have a lot of trouble following a recipe as I have to change it by adding what I like.  Maybe that’s part of my creative soul working at it’s best.

Anyhow, this soup is so fabulous.  You would never think it was so good for you.  It’s filling and just warms you up inside.  What’s better is you can add whatever you’d like to make it “yours”.  Zucchini loves other flavors! There will also be plenty left over for lunches throughout the week.  Ya gotta love a quick, healthy lunch!

Here is the recipe, but be brave and tweak it to your whatever your heart desires (or with what you have on hand):

Savory Summer Zucchini Cashew Soup

Ingredients

1 mega giant zucchini (or a few medium-sized OR several small ones)

1 – 2 cups of unsalted cashews

1-2 cups of vegetable broth (made from scratch or try Rapunzel brand soup base)

1 or 2 red onions

garlic (fresh cloves or use chopped garlic from a jar – fresh is better)

Himalayan salt and any other herbal seasoning you like

fresh basil

fresh corn and Italian parsley for topping

Directions

Roast cashews on a cookie sheet in 350 degree oven for 10 minutes.  Then soak cashews in water for 30 – 60 minutes.  This softens them for blending.

Wash and dry zucchini.  Seed and cut into one inch chunks leaving the skin on.  Cut onion into chunks.

Steam the zucchini and onions until easy to pierce with a fork.  (I had to do this in shifts as it all does not fit in the steamer at one time.)

Drain water from cashews.  In blender, puree cashews, zucchini, onions, garlic, basil and broth until smooth.  I had 3 blender loads of ingredients, so know that this makes a nice amount of soup.

Pour into large soup pan and cook on low.  Add salt and herbal seasonings (if you wish) to taste.

We like to add freshly cut corn off the cob and chopped Italian parsley once our bowls are full.  It just looks so dang pretty that you hate to dig in.  Presentation is always key!

Way yummy.  You will be hoarding zucchini from now on.

I promise.

Shari :-))