One word for 2011: Blur

Once again the calendar reads December and so a New Year is almost upon us. I am therefore once again drawn to reflect on what has happened these past few months, in an attempt to squeeze the most out of the new days ahead of us all.

One word which would best describe the year of 2011 for me is Blur. As in, everything has been a blur.

More than any other year in my life, 2011 made me realize just how quickly the little moments in life seem to pass us by. I don't mean to sound defeatist or glum, it is just that everything from vacations to car rides to the growth of my second cousins seem to be going at warp speed. When did everything start moving so fast? How are the days, weeks, months and years progressing at such a fast rate?

Let me start at the beginning. When I was just three or four my father would drive my sister and I forty-five minutes to my grandmother's house to be baby-sat while he taught at a nearby school. Forty-five minutes was an excruciating eternity. And endless car-ride. I found it impossible to sit still or stay quiet, despite it being the wee hours of the morning. When would we be there? What's that water? Are we there yet? What is fog? How far away is Grandma's? What's that building? etc. etc. I would exhaust my father with questions until I was told to rest and be silent, at which point I would sit and watch the blur of landscape rush past my window. Over the river, through the woods and small towns. . .

As a child, and even a teenager my family would tell me life can go by in an instant. They would attempt to explain how quickly time goes by once one comes to adulthood, but I never really understood what they were talking about until this year. Now, forty-five minutes seems like thirty. Sometimes fifteen. An easy commute, it is a blip in my day. As it's doubtful I'm more patient now than I was over two decades ago; I think the blame goes to an over-active schedule. Everything is a game of hurry-up an wait. Every day is a rush from this meeting to that one, this appointment and the next, squeezing in dinner with friends, scheduling time with my family and his, and all as various and elusive to-do lists get longer and longer.

When do we ever sit down and reflect? Almost never, if you are like me.

Since I'm starting to ramble I will leave you with this: When I was thirteen I was visiting with my great-grandmother (Nana) and asked how she was doing. She became wistful and told me, "Life is like leaves on a tree." At different times this means different things to me, but it has always made me think.

What one word would describe 2011 for you? What does my Nana's quote mean to you?


((images courtesy of Douglas Kielmeye Blurred Christmas Lights, Elated, and PhotoShopStar, respectively))

Do what you Love-and how to know your Love is True

“If you focus on results, you will never change. If you focus on change, you will get results.” ~Jack Dixon


The past year has been more than a little different for me. After working for over three years at a high-stress, long-hour, well-paying job with a one hour commute, my boyfriend offered me the opportunity of a lifetime: quit my day job and begin writing. Oh, and I get to be down in Florida over the winter months instead of being in frigid Pennsylvania. No more commute. No more travel. No more stress. Now, this was a harder decision for me than some of you might think, I am not accustomed to giving up a perfectly good job without a solid amount of money waiting for me on the other side. . . But, in the end, my heart reminded my mind that while this was not the safest thing in the world, I was being afforded an opportunity unlike any other I had ever had- to do what I love.

I will be the first to admit that my first taste of freedom led me astray, most days I opted for the beach rather than putting my pen to paper. In the Summer of last year I started churning out short stories and began working on a novel, but as rejections piled up I became a bit depressed. Come winter, I was feeling a bit down in the dumps, until a friend introduced me to reverb, which inspired me to take a look at my life and my creative process- I was recharged, but still unsure of what I wanted to do.

Basically, my mind stopped listening to my heart-- Writing wasn't paying any bills. Sometimes writing felt so difficult, I often felt uninspired, but mostly, writing wasn't paying my way. I wanted to pay my way. Maybe I should go back to school? That was more spending money and less making money, though. Plus, it might interfere with what writing I was already doing. Maybe I should make some money? How? What else do I like to do? What is flexible and fun?

I settled on getting certified to be a personal trainer, convincing myself personal training would be flexible enough that I could still write. I spent this entire winter studying and studying and not writing AT ALL.

Finally, one day, I packed a lunch, my camera, and my black Moleskine notebook and went for a long walk on the beach. Something was wrong, I felt sick, or off, maybe it was a profound sadness. . . Whatever it was I had felt the need to sequester myself, to walk until I was alone on the beach with myself and my thoughts. I walked for an hour, until I came to the edge of a bird sanctuary only birders and the token inquisitive tourist visit. I cried for what seemed like no reason at all as I ate the small sandwich I had packed myself. The ocean was a beautiful grey-blue, with hints of green when the sun was released from the clouds. But it's beauty was not what touched me. It was the realization that I had not written. I realized that in these past few month I had had no outlet, no confidant. Writing has always been a form of healing and growth for me, but I had stupidly pushed it aside.

I began to page through my notebook, reading old entries, noting ideas for short stories, and gazing at rough sketches with new found respect for myself. I had been given this gift of time, a chance to work at my craft and make myself a better writer, a better story teller, a better person- and instead I made excuses and stopped believing in myself. Instead I embarked on a new, less personal, safe career. But was safer better?

As I walked back home, I knew I had been squandering this gift of time. Writing is what excites me. I have been writing poems and making up stories since I was in elementary school. It was engrained in my soul. While it took me a little over a year to learn to believe in myself, and to focus on my heart, I would never give up that lesson learned.


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Whilst in search for inspiration for today's blog, an email from Reverb10 was thankfully plunked in my inbox! In it I found a wonderful new resource for wisdom. Through the blog tinybuddha.com, you can read inspirational stories regarding a range of topics, including finding happiness, and dealing with change. There are also a multitude of inspirational quotes. If the website seems a little too time-consuming for your busy day, follow tiny buddha on twitter.

Thank you, as always, #Reverb10 / 11!