I was recently reintroduced to “morning pages.” I first learned of them in Julia Cameron’s book, the Artist’s Way–which now has a pretty nifty Web site. And for awhile, in my twenties, I’d put pencil to paper every morning and write whatever came to mind … until I forgot the meaning behind the practice and quit. It’s not about writing something brilliant, useful, or even legible. The pages, she says, are a way to better understand ourselves.
These two questions plopped on the page today:
“If you had all the time in the world what would you do?”
“If you had a limited amount of time in the world what would you do?”
Your answer to these may give you insight as to what in your life needs to be changed–what can you include or omit to enhance your existence.
{
I struggled with the beginning of this attachment post for half an hour–trying to figure out how to communicate the effects of possessions on our personalities, or visa versa–when I saw my beautiful 1950’s style, red leather couch get loaded into the back of a pickup truck, carefully tied down, and driven away. I love that couch; I spent a lot of time looking for it, and knew when I found it that it was THE one. Its style and color was an extension of my personality and I would have worn it like a prom dress if I could.
[click to continue…]
{
by Fawn on April 22, 2011
I’m loosing my patience with the question, “How do I start a raw food diet?” Equally irritating are the inaccurate and misleading responses that claim to answer it. Today, thanks to Google’s kazillionth attempt to force-feed this rubbish to me while trying to research advanced raw food diet approaches, I snapped.
C’mon people … this question is a copout. Why exercise more skepticism about feeding our bodies properly than about eating the junk we’re accustomed to? You don’t hear people asking about how to devour a pint of Häagen-Dazs dulce de leche ice cream during an episode of Survivor, do you? [click to continue…]
{
No one said personal transformation was going to be easy—or pretty. We’ve acquired habits and beliefs like shells, and though their usefulness died on display in glass carafe in our bathroom, we find it difficult to let them go. We may sift through them on occasion, intending to downsize, only to extract the few shells that failed to elicit emotion. We stuff the remaining collection in the closet—next to those size 2 jeans—fearing a part of ourselves might join them in the trash had we tossed them out. But with clear intent, perspiration, and persistence, we can set those pointless shells, habits, and beliefs adrift. Or … we can wait for the proverbial tidal wave to slam us against the rocks. [click to continue…]
{
