by Naomi | Nov 23, 2016 | Creative Life
They say courage is feeling afraid and acting anyway.
The trouble is, when we feel afraid, our hearts race, our adrenaline spikes and our prefrontal cortices give way to our amygdalae. Depending on the intensity of our fear, we may completely lose access to our logic and reasoning. And while some situations call for a “get out of here now!” type of response, many do not––particularly those situations that call for courage.
How can we fight back when fear threatens to swallow our courage?
We can name the people, the situations, the moments and the beauty for which we give thanks. Giving thanks is even more powerful when it is made tangible … in spoken or written word. In image. In musical notes or in movement.
While today is a day on which we collectively give thanks, I’m pausing to remind myself that thanksgiving is not a box to check off once a year. Thanksgiving is a daily practice.
Today, I’m thankful for
The Society of Young Inklings
And the passion of young writers
The powerful way they express their vision of the world around them
The questions youth ask
Which challenge and stretch me
How they turn ideas on their heads and teach me something new every day
The dedication of SYI’s staff and instructors
Who endlessly seek ways to give, inspire and empower
The commitment of our Youth Advisory Board
Giving back to the writers coming up after them
The expertise of our Board of Directors
Who are willing to ask tough questions and dream big
The generosity of our donors and patrons
Who give of their time and resources
All in service of a vision
A world in which stories are shaped and told
In which stories are heard and valued
In which stories help build connection and understanding
Solutions where before there were only obstacles
Solutions where they are desperately needed
I’m thankful for the way that the SYI community
Encourages me to wake up every day
Filled with hope
by Naomi | Feb 2, 2016 | Creative Life
Have you ever given a gift, only to have it refused? There’s that horrible iron-door-slamming-shut-between-you feeling, the kind that makes you back away. Offering a gift is an invitation. You say to someone, “Will you accept this love I’d like to share?” When the person refuses, it’s not only the gift that’s shoved aside, but you.
And yet, accepting gifts isn’t always easy. Why?
Offering a gift is a vulnerable act. And accepting a gift may be even more vulnerable.
When you offer a gift, you’ve had time to think, prepare and plan. When you accept a gift, particularly a meaningful one, you often face the element of surprise. Unexpected emotions can leap up and catch you off guard. In most cases, to accept a gift you must acknowledge the fact that you can’t do everything on your own. All of these things … the emotions, the sharp pain of vulnerability, the questions, the fears … rise up like a tsunami wave as the gift is held out in open hands. The question is: Will you say yes?
I’ve been thinking a lot about gifts this week. I want to be the courageous kind of person who can accept gifts with open arms. Too often, I struggle.
We’re raising funds right now to support the work of Society of Young Inklings, and specifically for our new partnership with Boys and Girls Club of the Peninsula. As part of this campaign, we’re putting on a show and silent auction benefit on Friday. Our goal is to extend our reach and, as in all of our programs, to offer young writers support as they discover their unique voices. Through this fundraising process, I’ve been given a stream of extraordinary gifts.
- Our instructional staff has given the gift of their time. They’ve volunteered to collaborate on the script and spent hours rehearsing. Team members have offered leadership: directing the show, shaping and revising the script, costume and prop design, and much more.
- Our board has offered gifts of financial support and spread the word about our campaign and event near and far.
- Our development team has expertly helped me more clearly see the tangible impact of our work and also uncovered ways to continue to assess, refine and grow our programs.
- Our community has stepped up to provide donations for our silent auction and financial gifts in support of our work.
These gifts, overwhelming as they are, are only a small part of the flood of support we’ve experienced at Society of Young Inklings. And then, beyond SYI, daily gifts of support have been showing up in all corners of my life.
- In pour-over coffee hand-delivered to me at my desk by my husband while I’m struggling to meet a writing deadline.
- In friends spreading the word about the release of the Glimmer Girls books, a series of fiction on which I collaborated with singer, Natalie Grant.
- In friends reaching out to tell me they’re thinking about me.
- In the just-right book showing up at the just-right time.
And so much more.
Anyone who knows me very well knows that I’ve been working hard for quite some time now, reaching for a very big dream. And now, having so much support show up as I’m taking final steps toward a peak on the journey … it feels like a crowd of my friends and loved ones and colleagues have gathered on the sides of the path to cheer me on. To tell me they know I can make it to the end of this climb, even if I’m wondering about that, myself.
Honestly, these gifts take my breath away. Each time one is offered, I struggle to accept it.
But I’m practicing throwing my arms wide. I’m practicing saying … shouting … yes! I’m learning that gifts fill us with energy we didn’t think we had, an overflowing kind of energy that makes us ready to turn around and pass on gifts elsewhere. Gifts rejuvenate us and create momentum. Someone gives to us and that gift multiplies inside us. Now, we have the power to reciprocate and also to give with wider reach. On and on, the gifts ripple, growing in strength and possibility … because we said yes.
Many of you reading this post are part of that cheering crowd of supporters. To you, I want to say … I need to say … thank you. Your gifts mean more to me than I am able to put into words. Your gifts are making an impact far beyond what any of us can see today.
And so, what about you? What gift can you say yes to today? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comment section below. Or, you can give me the gift of discussing this further with me on Twitter or on Facebook. I will gladly accept.
With much love and gratitude.
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Psst… Do you know about Naomi’s Tinder Box: a weekly collection of curated resources, inspiration and encouragement? Keep your creative spark ablaze … sign up for exclusive access here.
by Naomi | Jan 25, 2016 | Tools & Apps
Naomi’s Playlist is an eclectic collection of tools that help me approach my work as play. My hope is that they’ll do the same for you!
Object: Staying connected with and investing focused energy in friends and colleagues.
What Didn’t Work: Trying to remember to reach out. Only reaching out when I needed something specific. Feeling like I was always losing track of people. Wishing the people I care about knew I was thinking of them. Feeling like a failure because when I did think about reaching out, too much time had passed since the last time I’d connected.
My Aha! Moment: While listening to Dorie Clark’s book, Stand Out, on Audible, I made a few connections I hadn’t made before. First, I realized I was so busy getting things done, I wasn’t bothering to share my broader vision. Second, I realized that there are a lot of people who would want to be included in that vision–people who are already in my community–who I was excluding, simply because I hadn’t thought to reach out. Third, I realized that to actually accomplish something meaningful, people are what count.
However, in the rush of everyday life, it’s too easy to be swept into the tasks that show up in your inbox rather than to remember the bigger picture (and much more important) tasks of staying in touch. So, I started exploring options, and that’s when I found Cloze.
How I Play:
• Cloze is a CRM (customer relationship manager) for everyday people. I use the app on my iPhone, but there is also a web interface and an app for Android.
• As a small business owner, I also use a high-powered CRM, but for daily interactions, I use Cloze. Close creates a daily agenda that reminds me to check in with people, populating the list with contacts based on how often I usually interact with them.
• I’ve gone through and started to categorize contacts. Then, I can assign a certain timing to those contacts so I start interacting more regularly with people I haven’t been contacting enough.
• When someone pops up on my daily agenda, I send a quick email saying hello. It’s always nice to have a personal, friendly email in the sea of requests that floods into an inbox–a breath of fresh air.
Player’s Notes:
• Tags allow you to create specialized lists. For instance, I created a list of experts with whom I want to network. I pull up this list and use the Twitter feed and Linkedin functions of Cloze to see what they’re up to and to help support them through retweeting or linking to their posts.
• Even though Cloze automatically sorts people by using your inbox and interactions with them on social media, the possibilities of this powerful tool are a little overwhelming. Rather than trying to set everything up ahead of time, I do a little each week.
Take it to the Next Level:
• Cloze has functions I haven’t explored yet, including project management and other tools. As time allows, I’m looking forward to exploring those, too. Maybe you can share your tips and tricks with me, if you try it out!
• Cloze allows you to export a list to csv, which can allow you to take a more simplified look at your full list of contacts. Try pulling a list and reviewing for additional networking possibilities.
by Naomi | May 28, 2014 | Creative Life
When you set out to do something, truly commit, you can’t have any idea what’s around the corner. That’s the beauty of a journey, I suppose, maybe even the reason for a journey. We want to strike out into new territory for better or worse. We want to grow.
If you’ve been reading along these past few months, you know I’ve set out on a Hero’s Journey, and that about a month ago, I transitioned from the first stage of Ordinary Life to the stage of Listening for the Call. Some practices I intended to put in place in order to listen included yoga and a specific kind of prayer called Lectio Divina, a prayer that acknowledges the need for silence and listening after reflecting on sacred words.
I have started working with these practices, but what has overshadowed this month more than anything was the sudden death of my aunt. Listening hasn’t been about holding practices out at an arms length. I’d been thinking of listening as a quiet, settled activity, one that would allow me to breathe deep and soak in some kind of capital T truth. Or some kind of capital Q quest. Listening hasn’t been anything like that this month.
It started with a phone call when my husband and I were out for dinner. My phone didn’t ring, but I saw a message pop up from my mom, unusual for a Friday night. Unusual enough that I listened to the message, and from the sound of her voice urging me to call tonight or tomorrow, I knew I needed to call right then. Listen.
I called and she told me the news about my aunt. It was a month and a day after my uncle, another of my mom’s siblings, had passed away. She assured me that all would be okay, and yet I heard underneath that she needed me. My upcoming week was full of preparation for a full-school musical I was directing, but when I sat down to tell my husband the news, he asked, “Do you need to go home?” Listen.
Yes, I needed to go home, right away. The next morning, I woke up early and was on the road, driving to Portland as the sun rose. Friends and colleagues covered me so I could be with my family. On Sunday, Mother’s Day, I felt the tiniest of nudges: Go for a walk. Go to the Gorge. Listen.
My mom and I went for a walk to get coffee, and we talked the whole way. After taking care of a little more business, we went to the Columbia Gorge and watched water pour off cliffs, mist filling the air with energy, freshness, life. We were on the edge that day, so close to death and so aware of the life around us, the beauty just waiting to be noticed. Had I been home, I’d probably have been fretting over the musical or the multitude of other details about life. Listen.
After a few days, I came back home and dove in to help finish the show. A little less than a week later, I stood in the auditorium watching the kids take their bows, and then the auditorium burst into song, singing to me. Happy Birthday. Listen.
I’ve been struggling to name the call, to wrap my mind around something that is so simple it’s difficult to label. It’s the starkness of seeing what’s left when a life ends, and yet tasting the richness of being present, of seeing one’s work right here, right now. What am I being called to do? What is the work of this journey?
One could call it many things. Settling into my skin. Being Naomi. Becoming an artist. It’s definitely not about working harder or accomplishing more. The call is about how I life my life, not about what I do so much as about who I am. Maybe once I set off on this journey, the call will crystalize, become even more clear. I like the word “becoming.” For the past ten years, I’ve worn a butterfly ring, a symbol of the process of transforming, a life theme for me. I think I’ll set out with that word in mind.
I’ve also realized I need a ritual, some kind of marker to help myself pass from stage to stage. It’s hard to know when one stage is done and when the next is ready to begin. I do think it’s been the right choice not to force each phase to last a month. Some will be shorter and some longer. That’s only natural. However, a tangible act is needed to mark the passage. Were I on a real journey, I might mark the path with a special rock, or write what I’ve learned on a paper and toss it into my bonfire. Probably I’d keep one copy, too, so as to keep track of what had come before. Maybe I can find some kind of replica of this in my real, everyday life, since I’m not hiking trails or cooking by bonfire each night. Something will come to me, I’m sure. And then, I’ll move through the next stage, Crossing the Threshold into… who knows. Whatever it is, I know it will give me opportunity to grow, to notice the richness of life, to be fully present right now. Listen. Each moment matters.
photo credit: Alaskan Dude via photopin cc
by Naomi | Jul 26, 2012 | Creative Life
Give me a “30 days to (fill in the blank)” program and I’m in. There’s something about committing fiercely and the progress that comes along with the commitment that makes me feel as though I’m achieving success. In my mind, I call this “getting somewhere.” That’s very telling. Not “getting (fill in the blank with a specific location)” but “getting somewhere.”
Where am I going? What’s the rush?
Don’t get me wrong. Tracking movement in my life and making commitments has served me well. It’s just that I’m realizing the guilt that goes along with these commitments might be stifling the creative winds that flow through my life.
I’m starting to think I should start in a different place. The truth is, anything worth learning to do isn’t done in chunks of 30 days anyway. Instead of committing to cram new information into my head, what if my goal were more authentic, less achievement-oriented? Isn’t my goal actually to live a more creative life, to let myself explore and learn something new? And if exploration is my goal, maybe I need to work on a couple 30 day programs at once, and *gasp* perhaps not complete them in 30 days. Or maybe I need to toss all the 30 day programs out the window and trek out into totally uncharted territory.
Maybe.
To tell the truth, I think we all need both: commitments to ourselves, commitments we strive to achieve, and also flexibility to go with the flow. I’ve started a new habit, one I think might just work for me. Many nights (see I didn’t say “every night…”) I take a few moments to jot some notes down about the day. Did I invest in creative exploration today? Did I invest in friends and family? Did I learn anything new? What am I grateful for today? Over time, I’m starting to see that my impulse isn’t actually to achieve some far-fetched goal, but instead to honor each day–to value my minutes and hours–by being intentional.
Do you track movement in your life in any particular way? I’d love to know.
