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  1. Rewriting: Ten Ways to Ease the Pain

    August 10, 2014 by Diane

    hand opening red curtain on white.

    If you peeked behind the curtain last week and didn’t see me, it’s because I was recharging instead of rewriting.

    Now I’m back. With a list of ten ways to ease the pain that comes with all of that mental activity. Ten ways to keep the body and mind healthy in the midst of tackling a rewrite.

    Here goes…

    1. Be gentle with yourself. You’re doing the best you can in the current moment with the knowledge you have.

    2. Schedule a time to write, and stick to it. Be mindful during this sacred time and focus only on your novel. Don’t engage in other activities. When the time is up, leave the writing and do something else. If ideas come, jot them down. Try not to obsess about your novel outside of that scheduled time slot. It tires the brain.

    3. Trust that the muse will appear at the scheduled time. Trust that the words will come when you begin typing or when you touch pen to page. Start the movement and let the words flow.

    4. When writing, get out of the chair every twenty minutes. All that sitting is bad for your heart, not to mention your spine. So get up. Do ten jumping jacks. Or five squats. Squats are good. You want to keep those leg muscles strong so you’re not relying on a walker when you’re eighty.

    5. Sit upright. Your head doesn’t need to be five inches from the screen. At the bottom of your pelvis are a couple of knobby muscles: the “sits bones.” Rest on them, and then roll forward so you’re sitting on the forward, flat part. This will align your pelvis so your spine can stack up properly. Your back muscles and digestive system will thank you. If you can’t manage to sit upright on your own, invest in a Nada-Chair. That “slouch-buster sling” will do the work for you.

    6. Or don’t sit at all. Build your desk up. Or invest in a treadmill desk. A doctor I know wrote a whole book in that fashion. You might find deals on eBay.

    7. Make sleep a priority. Set a bedtime schedule and stick to it. This gives the body a clear message that it’s sleepy-time; something your parents would announce if they were on hand to do so. Turn off all electronics an hour beforehand. If you slip up, and you’re on the computer writing into the wee hours of the night, at the very least download the free software program f.lux. It calibrates to your timezone, dimming your computer screen to a warm hue after sundown so all that blue light isn’t mucking up your melatonin, keeping you awake.

    8. As a pre-sleep ritual, do some light stretching to work out the tension in your muscles. This will also relax the brain. Another tension-buster is to lie on a mat, place a tennis ball on either side of your spine, and roll on them, pausing at the knotty areas and breathing deep to release the tightness. Do something to quiet the mind. Meditate, focusing on sounds, for five minutes before bedtime; or listen to a calming CD.

    9. Try to stay in the moment. When you write, write. When you sleep, sleep. When you plan, plan. If you find yourself planning the next chapter when you’re in bed trying to sleep, say to yourself, “planning, planning,” and let it go. If your mind is churning with thoughts, observe them as if they are leaves in a stream or clouds in the sky drifting by. It takes practice, but it works.

    10. Spend time in nature. Reconnect to the energy of the earth, which vibrates on a frequency that matches your own. All that sitting in front of a computer unsettles the nervous system. So go outside. Walk barefoot on the lawn. Or stretch out under a redwood tree and read a book. This isn’t being lazy. It’s called Earthing. And it’s healing.

    and a bonus tip:

    11. Know when to write, and when to walk away and be a good animal: eating, sleeping, and hanging out with the tribe. You’re a creative being in a physical body with human needs. Moderation is the key.

    Takeaways this week:

    Pain-Free Sitting, Standing, and Walking: Alleviate Chronic Pain by Relearning Natural Movement Patterns, by Craig Williamson, MSOT

    This. Only This: Mindfulness Strategies for Developing Peace in Every Moment by Michael H. Brooks

    Earthing: The Most Important Health Discovery Ever? by Clinton Ober and Stephen Sinatra

    The Nada-Chair

    Treadmill desk

    F.Lux Software

    In case you missed it, my rewriting journey began here.

     

     


  2. A Dating Affidavit

    April 21, 2014 by Diane

    Signature

    My ex, half-jokingly, suggested that I write up a one-page affidavit for potential suitors to sign. This sounded like a brilliant idea. So I drew one up.

    DATING AFFIDAVIT

    I, _____________ (potential suitor) upon oath state:

    1. When I take you to dinner, I promise not to label you persnickety when you interrogate the waiter about dishes that are  gluten-free, dairy-free, meat-free, and caffeine-free.

    2. If I wear stinky cologne, you are allowed to gag.

    3. If my radio plays anything other than jazz, you have permission to reprogram it.

    4. If I do not appreciate your wry sense of humor, I promise not to laugh in a fake way.

    5. I have been advised that more than a quarter inch of wine will make you loopy. I will pour accordingly.

    6. I agree not to talk to you when you are reading, although cuddling is allowed.

    7. Ditto when you are meditating, except for the cuddling part.

    8. If I wear button-down shirts and never roll up the cuffs, you are allowed to raise one eyebrow.

    9. I will not label you a hypochondriac when you use hand-wipes after touching door knobs.

    10. Whenever we disagree, I promise to say: “You’re right, I’m wrong, I’ll never do it again.”

    11. When the temperature drops below forty degrees and your fingers turn blue and white, I will not be horrified by their wax-bean appearance. I will stand patiently by as you whirl your arms around like an airplane propeller to force the blood back into your digits.

    12. Ditto with your toes.

    Signature ___________________________________

    To be fair, I also drew up an affidavit that I would sign.

    DATING AFFIDAVIT

    I, _____________ (your ideal date) upon oath state:

    1. If you say something genuinely funny, I will laugh so hard that I might stream tears. Do not be alarmed. I am amused, not hysterical.

    2. If you engage me in intellectually stimulating conversation, and you are smarter than me but not too much smarter, and you don’t have a know-it-all complex, I will look upon you with utmost respect.

    3. If you think I am attractive and sexy and you tell me so often, or at least beam it from your eyes while leaning toward me, I will believe everything you say. I might even straighten out your sock drawer.

    4, I am content to stroll along the beach, share a picnic dinner and watch the sun set and call it a perfect date. If the date also includes time to read, I will look upon you as a God.

    5. I will always tell you the truth. At least the truth as I believe it to be.

    Signature ___________________________________

     

     


  3. This Ride Called Life

    January 20, 2014 by Diane

    Editable vector silhouette of a steep rollercoaster ride

    On this ride called Life, we find ourselves in the first car, or the second, or the third. Someone straps us in, maybe gives us a quick smack on the backside because there’s that first human contact–the doctor’s slap, right? But it’s less of a slap and more of a hearty wake up, kid, it’s about to get exciting. We hang onto the bar and glide from darkness into sunlight. We feel the pull of the track on the steady uphill and there at the top we see something magnificent–the whole world laid out before us. But it’s just a flash, a glimpse, before we swoop downwards, feeling the rush of wind and the force of momentum. Then we’re chugging uphill again before the bottom drops out with a whoosh. And on it goes, until eventually we release our grip on the bar and lift our arms and holler with joy. After a lifetime of ups and downs and leaning into our seatmate as we’re whipped around the curves, we end the ride through a long dark tunnel, slowing down, feeling the exhilaration of having lived every moment to its minutest. And there on the other side, waiting: a loved one, beaming at us, waving, cheering us on, welcoming us home.

    That’s life in a nutshell. An amusement park ride to enjoy.

    If you’re amused by roller coasters.

    I rode one roller coaster in my life. Once. The track was old and wooden and rickety. On this ride I was strapped in, but the strap was loose. I seized the bar, feeling the mounting dread with every clackety-clack on the uphill, knowing what was coming. And sure enough the car peaked and then plunged and I dug my heels in to operate the brake, hollering stop the ride!–squeezing my eyes shut, too afraid to scream. And it was a relief, that dark tunnel. I was shaking, wrung out, feeling…what? A twinge of regret that I hadn’t enjoyed the ride more. It wasn’t so bad from that final perspective. After all, I’d survived.  But no one was waiting. It was just me and my seatmate who had been laughing the whole time, secretly wishing that I had dared to open my eyes and enjoy the scenery.

    That was the trajectory of my life in a nutshell.

    But at some point I asked myself: why not enjoy the ride? Why not open my eyes and have a blast? Loosen your grip on the bar, Holcomb, trust that the strap will hold you. Lean into the curves, accept the ups and downs, find something good to focus on instead of always expecting danger.

    So I did.

    Not all at once, but gradually.

    And one day I realized that the rush I was feeling was excitement, not anxiety. Exhilaration, not panic.

    It was all a matter of interpretation.