Whiskey Women

August 23, 2021 by

Whiskey enjoys a long and storied history. With Irish beginnings sometime around the 12th century, the “water of life” has traveled continents, agriculture, and time periods. Part of that history is heavily intertwined in the history of the United States. The ability to purchase things such as beer and rum where looked at to be a sign of wealth. However, beer was hard to transport with a limited shelf life. The importation requirements and the resulting taxes made rum complicated as well. The ability to produce whiskey from domestically grown ingredients made it a ready choice in early America. Widespread availability created a time in which everyone – men, women, and children – consumed the liquor. When European sophisticates deemed the act of “drunken, uncivilized, and unmannered frontiersmen,” the Americans answered back by hoisting the liquor as a show of American independence and pride (Bellino). Unfortunately, this response did not prevent the attitude towards whiskey from shifting. The popularity decreased while the idea that whiskey was “an old drink for old men” took a strong hold (Rarick and Mich). 

Historically speaking, spirits have always been a man’s game – at least if you believe the stereotype. Unfortunately, the subjugation of women changed their role and their recognition. While women have always been instrumental in all disciplines, their influence did not keep the stereotype of a weaker sex from moving through and gaining popularity in much of the world. The marginalization of women affected the telling of the history and the recording accomplishments in the whiskey world as well. Prohibition, religious organizations, and male dominated legislation focused on keeping women boxed inside the cultural preferences of the time further exacerbated the exclusion. However, women have always been at the forefront of fermented beverages. There is quite a bit of evidence that shows women are responsible for beer, still design, and a host of other advances bring us to what we know today as “adult beverages” (Gilpin).  Now, women are beginning to reenter the industry, both as producers and consumers. No longer is the distillery process or enjoyment confined to the masculine elite. Whiskey has caught the noses and palettes of women. This reemergence of female involvement is creating exciting changes in the process, the product, and the possibilities.   

All whiskeys, regardless of type, follow the same process, thus placing them in the “whiskey” category of spirit. The process begins with the recipe, more commonly referred to as a mash bill. It is distilled, barrel aged, and bottled. The nuances in the different whiskeys occur from variations in addressing each step. These nuances can involve altering characteristics such as adjustments in grain ratios, blending techniques, barrel type, and aging lengths (Rarick and Mich). Most whiskey drinkers are passionate about their preferences. Some, of which I count myself, enjoy a wide variety of offerings. I am far less concerned about the label than I am the taste. And while I love a great whiskey origination story, it is not necessary it enjoy a well-crafted spirit. It is in this variety that female distillers are finding success.  

“I am far less concerned about the label than I am the taste. And while I love a great whiskey origination story, it is not necessary it enjoy a well-crafted spirit. It is in the variety that female distillers are finding success.”

April trepagnier

Even though the process for whiskey making is standard, the route used to go through the process is not. Women are bringing new perspectives into the conversation. Some of these conversations have little to do with the whiskey itself and are concerned with environmental impact. Cheri Reese and her husband, Mike Swanson, have committed to these ideas at their Far North distillery. Reese looks at the process to find ways in which they can produce a whiskey that encourages environmental awareness. They farm their own rye organically and use environmentally friendly techniques throughout the distilling and barreling portions of their process (Polonski). Reese’s commitment to these changes not only adds another flavor profile to the mix (as a process change will do), but it elevates the whiskey game to new consumers. People that may have been interested in whiskey before but put off by the capitalist male stereotype now have options to consider. 

Process innovations are not limited to those of environmental considerations. Whiskey makers of the past were a resourceful bunch. Because people can only work with what they know, trial and error created most whiskeys. Distillers passed on those failures and successes w to the next generation. Today, the whiskey industry has a little more help from science. Many distillers have advanced degrees and training in the different sciences. This training has given the whiskey industry a broader outlook. The understanding of how the chemical make up and reactions of different ingredients, influences, and conditions has allowed whiskey makers to reach into previously unchartered waters.  

Marianne Eaves is one such distiller. The first female master distiller in Kentucky since Prohibition, Eaves earned a Chemical Engineering degree from the University of Louisville. As a woman in the industry, she is using these concepts to bring fresh, innovative ideas to the whiskey making process. But she is finding this to be a challenge. Change is not always easy, and Eaves finds it difficult to convince those around her that variety can be a good thing. However, Eaves is determined to find ways to explore new ways of creating an old drink. Eaves has made the difficult decision to change distilleries, disheartened by the limits put on her. While she was excited to make great whiskey, she was not excited about her inability to innovate once one success was found. Eaves does not want to simply make one great whiskey. She wants to find out how many great whiskeys there can be. Like the drink itself, Eaves knew she could find deeper notes. Setting out to find those new flavors, Eaves is collaborating with individuals outside of the whiskey industry. Most of these collaborators are from the wine industry and, as one might suspect, women (Kimberl).  

Changes of these types do not come without resistance. Another such change happens between the distilling and bottling stages and is creating serious debates among whiskey enthusiasts – the legitimacy of blended whiskies. Understand that blends are not new. In fact, the blending of whiskey is a long-held practice. However, in the new age of whiskey growth, the idea has become hotly contested. The controversy arises from a rising group of blenders who do not (because they cannot) distill their own whiskey. Blenders of this kind purchase barrels from different distilleries, create a mix based on the flavor profiles, and bottle them under their own label. Many whiskey purists believe this type of whiskey making is akin to taking someone else’s hard work and putting your own name on it (Manley and Myrah). However, a compelling argument can be made that the ability to identify those mixes able to render a flavorful and pleasing bottle is an art in itself and worthy of the recognition. Women such as Nancy Fraley are on the forefront of making this claim. Using skills that require a complete knowledge of whiskey and its attributes, women like Fraley are elevating the abilities of the distilleries that choose to acknowledge this technique as one way to create a great bottle (Polinski). 

The whiskey making approach employed by Heather Manley also adds credence to the blending idea. Actually, if addressing the entirety of Manley’s whiskey arena contribution, blending would be a product and not the whole of the contribution. When one looks at the influence Manley has had on the industry, it is important to note who she is as much as it is who she is not. While some may find fault in the fact that she is not a distiller, Manley’s business and technological acumen is bringing a fresh perspective to the industry. Owner of several small businesses, many in male dominated fields, Manley brings both a feminine and an entrepreneurial point of view to making whiskey. These attributes are important points of fact for two reasons. First, an entrepreneur is often finding new ways to bring success to previously untapped, overlooked, or stagnant markets. Second, females in traditionally male dominated industries understand the importance of excellence to ensure acceptance. Because she understands the need to manage overhead while bringing a quality product to the market, Manley embraces the idea of partnership. These partnerships, much like the ones nurtured by Eaves and Franley, have enabled Manley to reduce her costs by forgoing the building of a distillery and time to market by purchasing whiskey that has already aged (Manley and Myrah). While some whiskey drinkers are loyalist to certain distilleries (if Jack Daniels did not make it, my mother is not drinking it), a new rise of whiskey enthusiasts are more concerned with the quality over the label. While blenders such as Franley and Manley may not Eaves’ distiller credentials, they do have market share as the products they produce through skilled knowledge and creative artistry are as enjoyable, if not more so, than some of their grain to glass counterparts.  

Diversity in both process and product is creating a greater diversity in possibility, mostly notably in interested demographic. Reese has accomplished this with environmentally friendly production. Eaves and Manley reach out and encourage women who have not previously felt included. Fawn Weaver is attempting to broaden numbers whiskey drinkers by addressing inclusion marketing. Where women may have found themselves overlooked in the marketing strategies of whiskey makers, Weaver suggests that Black people have as well. As an African American female, Weaver belongs to both underserved demographics. Weaver is the CEO and cofounder of Nearest Green Distillery. The distillery is named for Nathan “Nearest” Green, the first African American distiller. Weaver’s brand has brought attention to the diverse voices that, while not acknowledged, have always influenced the whiskey industry. Moreover, Weaver strives for further inclusiveness by going against the idea that focusing on singular race or demographic is effective marketing. Instead, Weaver chooses to simply make great whiskey and market with an inclusion for all message (Risen). This approach utilized by Weaver and other makers, many of whom are women, is creating a comfort and interest among possible consumers who would not have otherwise considered whiskey as a drink of choice. This increased interest allows for a broadening of capital and resources that continues to whiskey the ability to innovate and explore. 

There can be no question that women have entered the whiskey arena with a fresh perspective that has changed the landscape. This completely unique perspective has had inevitable effect of broad stroke changes. Not only are they literate in the foundational process, but they have innovation and education on their side. Moreover, the need to prove themselves in a male dominated industry has created a focus on excellence in order to be taken seriously by their more established male counterparts. More than just recipes, barrels, and finish, women have brought a whole swath of ideas into an industry improving the process, product, and possibilities. While whiskey is awesome and amazing all by itself, these influences have made it more than that. The reemergence of women in the field has taken a social drink and raised both quality and social consciousness.

Works Cited 

Bellino, Grace. “Whiskey in Early America.” International Social Science Review, no. 1, 2018, p. 1. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=ip,shib&db=edsgea&AN=edsgcl.540541921. 

Gilpin, Lyndsey. “The Secret, 800-Year History of Women Making Whiskey.” The Atlantic, Atlantic Media Company, 14 May 2015, www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2015/05/women-making-whiskey-an-800-year-history/393260/. 

Kimberl, Maggie, and Tony. “Marianne Eaves, On The Move.” American Whiskey Magazine, 21 Feb. 2020, americanwhiskeymag.com/2020/01/10/marianne-eaves-on-the-move/. 

Polonski, Adam. “6 Visionaries Who Are Changing Craft Whiskey.” Whisky Advocate, 24 July 2019, www.whiskyadvocate.com/craft-whiskey-visionaries/. 

Rarick, Charles A., and Claudia C. Mich. “The American whiskey renaissance: The rebirth of an American spirit.” Journal of the international academy for case studies 21.3 (2015): 149. 

Risen, Clay. “Yes, African-Americans Drink Bourbon. You’d Never Know It From the Marketing.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 20 May 2019, www.nytimes.com/2019/05/20/dining/drinks/bourbon-african-americans.html. 

  

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Alone not Lonely (it’s me, except when it isn’t)

August 12, 2021 by

Somewhere in this blog I have discussed calling the monsters out of the shadows because they shrink in the light. I’ve probably discussed it in some capacity in quite a few places. The gist of the idea is articulated, in my opinion, most eloquently by Brené Brown. For us Gen-Xers, it is applying the “punch the bully in the mouth one time and they’ll shut up” strategy to the bitch in your brain, your other voice (voices for some us). In a different way, it is much like the final rap battle in 8 Mile when Rabbit decides while he may be a bum, he will no longer be Papa Doc’s bitch. And we all are “still standing here screaming fuck the free world.”  

I think, in a small way this is what happened last week. A tired sense of excited frustration and intention in the face of a life that is so grand and still gets so sad, a talent that is nothing short of a gift and is still so highly neglected, possibilities that are more endless now than they have ever been that are still judged as limited and impossible, left a feeling of pressure to bursting.

And I am not in the place where I am ready to split myself open.

But, I am in a place where I am ready to let it bleed forth. Not the unhinged manifesto of Jerry Maguire levels – I have burnt my whole life down before. And while I still hold it was necessary, I am not interested in doing it again. But a slower, although substantial, move into getting out of my own damn way is necessary. The alternative is causing gangrene on the inside. Sound dramatic? Then you’ve never been there and I don’t expect you to understand. And that’s okay, we can still be friends.

So, I just said all the things – rational or not, embarrassing or not, vulnerable or not. And guess what? The monster shrinks in the light still stands true. I was able to move through the next few days a bit lighter because I refused to continue to carry that load. I was able to enter into new moments, new ideas, with more headspace, more insight, more clarity. And, as is wont to happen, the path to where I really wanted to be cleared just a little.

The machete came in the form of a book recommended to me by Jordan (told you she was super smart). Process: The Writing Lives of Great Authors by Sarah Stodola takes famous authors – Toni Morrison, Edith Wharton, Joan Didion, Ernest Hemingway, and Margret Atwood are a few my favorites included – and “combines author biography with lively details about writing habits…a sort of group biography through the lens of professional technique.” You can probably see why I am enthralled. I can’t tell you much more about the the format because, as I said, I couldn’t get past the forward and introduction before I had to come here and talk with myself (and you).

First, did you know that Virginia Woolf preferred purple pens? Do you have any idea who else prefers purple pens? I think it’s a sign.

Ok, maybe it isn’t a sign per se, but when coupled with the next quotes, it certainly seems that the right book has found itself into the right hands at precisely the right time.

Noah Charney, PhD is an art historian and a writer. In his forward for the book, Dr. Charney says, “Inventing interesting things to write about, and new ways to convey them, is exhausting…Readers tend to overlook the intricacies involved in bringing a work to completion, and they see writers as a cult of pseudo-magicians, capable of conjuring worlds out of thought, spinning characters from thin air, and surely having a great time while doing so. In truth, a career as a writer is enjoyable, but also lonely.”

Exhausting. It is. It truly is. But it has always felt guilty to say that. It is simply writing after all. – no physical exertion, no physical discomfort, just sitting around with a pen or a keyboard, maybe some chips and a whiskey and you just type. How exhausting is that allowed to be? In true? Very. The validation washed over me. I have found nouns and verbs to be the hardest easiest thing I’ve ever done. More importantly, I am not the best version of myself when I am not doing it.

And my dear readers of which I have maybe five. I get so wrapped up in the production of it all. Will it be good enough, is it worth it, is it too much, have I overstepped, held back, gone too far, been too soft, will this be the piece that creates opportunity, will all of it just be a waste…and on and on. This can be incredibly debilitating. Concern over reception has stopped my hands more than once because honestly, who wants to be rejected, abandoned, criticized. Who wants to be lonely?

“Alone is just where you are. Lonely is a fear that you don’t have an option to be somewhere else.”

April Trepagnier

I had this thought alone on a porch in a different state away from everything familiar. It was then that I realized that, while I was alone, I was not lonely. The difference is important. While I was not in the immediate vicinity of my people, they were still my people. The work that was doing had only separated us physically – not relationally. In fact, this aloneness was supported, encouraged, and recognized as a pretty great idea. In fact, it is so unlike me that some were even proud that I decided to do it at all. I will not be coy, there is always a feeling for me at separation of “what if they don’t come back” or “what if there aren’t there when I come back.” The answer is, of course “while that is highly unlikely, you’ll deal with it when it happens.”

My self-worth is not on the table.

I can be alone when the work requires it. My family will still love me. My husband will still adore me. They don’t expect me to be a martyr to the cause. I can be alone without being lonely.

It is not lost on me that I feel no moral dilemma in skipping book forwards. I am not real sure why I decided to read this one, only that I am glad that I did. It was a pretty good one.

Stodola then takes over at the Introduction, another section of publishing I often breeze right past. And, again, I am thrilled that I didn’t.

While slightly oversimplified, I think one of the defining differences between alone and lonely is fear. Alone is just where you are. Lonely is a fear that you don’t have an option to be somewhere else. I am not worried about being alone when I write. I do, however, worry a great deal about writing making me lonely.

Writing is an intensely personal and intimate activity. I am literally taking the innermost parts of myself and my imagination and placing them in a black and white space for you to do whatever you want to with it. Add to that my preferred style of creative nonfiction, and it is naturally assumed that the writer is always me instead of a created persona that I have created to tell the story. Even in my fiction I have been wary of my words because, well, Stodola did a great job when she said, “You’re never quite sure if you’re writing about someone else, or if in writing about someone else you’re unmasking something about yourself. But maybe that’s the whole point.”

For me, that is the whole point. Whether the creative be fiction or no, I am a lover of those stories that seek to grow understanding between people who want it. In order to achieve that, it is hard (for me at least) to separate myself wholly from the narrative. And even if I could, readers will assume what they want about what’s true and what isn’t. Further, readers will assume what they want about what is about them and what isn’t. For a writer who desires low conflict, this can be a precarious place to be.

The safe idea is to just not write or to just not publish. I really don’t like any of those ideas. I do not know how to achieve connection without vulnerability and I do not know how to achieve vulnerability without just putting myself out there. And while it can be a scary place to be, myself worth is not on the table.

I haven’t even gotten to an author profile yet. If this keeps up, Stodola’s work will find a solid spot on my recommended list.

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A Journey to Self

August 9, 2021 by

Many of my own philosophical questions revolve around the idea of self. Who am I? Why am I here? How can I know myself? Is my self real? We find examples of philosophers discussing these questions throughout history. Attempting to identify the self as something one can know while encountering all the ancillary ideas that each position leads to has been a subject of much discussion. Rene Descartes found himself in an uncomfortable situation trying to satisfy the inclinations of both his religious and scientific mind. He found his answer in an ontological dualism that put res cogitans, the thinking, unextended substance under the authority of God (and thus, the Church), and res extensa, the unthinking, extended substance under the authority of science. In this way, Descartes reasoned, both empirical and rational truths can coexist. However, this idea quickly came under scrutiny as it seemed to make a causal connection between the mind or soul, and the body or physical nature impossible (Mitchell on Descartes’ Epistemology, 236). 

While Descartes tried to produce solutions, as he was certain the mind and the body were linked, he was unable to do so convincingly; his best effort was the pineal gland (Mitchell on Descartes’ Epistemology, 237). Both Physicalists, who identify self as the body only, and Idealists, who argue the self is only an idea, use the mind body problem to refute the dualism defended by Descartes. In fact, David Hume uses the argument as part of his discussion to conclude that there is no actual “self” at all. While I think it is safe to say that the pineal gland is not the linchpin of the mind and body, I also think that, barring a reality I cannot conceive of, denying any idea of self is also inadequate. I am in good company in that idea as Immanuel Kant also disagreed with Hume’s evaluation of self. Instead Kant imagined that there are two separate realities – the noumena that we cannot know, and the phenomena that we can. Kant uses the concept of transcendental ideas to explain how the information passes or shifts from the noumena to the phenomena (Soccio on Kant, 318). It is in these shifts that we develop constructs for our reality. As these transcendental ideas are ignited by experience, forming structures for the experiencer through which the noumena become organized into the phenomena, it is a likely candidate for the mind body connection and satisfactory criteria for personal identity. This idea of construct of self through a perception of experience gained momentum through my encounter with William James’ discussion on consciousness (although I do not pretend to understand the fullness of that piece of work), and solidified with V.F. Cordova’s assertion that self is a constant creation. 

René Descartes

If I may be permitted a caveat: I have been somewhat hesitant to tackle this subject, partly because it covers multiple philosophers. Mostly because, as I have intimated, I am honest about my lack of full understanding of the philosophic positions offered. However, I have decided to take the journey approach to explain my position. As such, I will begin with my first encounter with the idea of self and move through to the most comfortable idea I believe I have ever heard concerning the subject. The errors in understanding are all mine. However, the knowledge gained is valuable to me even in its imperfection. 

My idea of self moved from a casual and obvious fact to a philosophical quest with Descartes’ Cogito. While familiar with “I think therefore I am,” this condensed version had not inspired a contemplation of self. However, the expanded idea, in particular “…he can never make me be nothing as long as I think that I am something,” resonated in such a way that, while I could not be sure exactly how I would get there, I was certain that I agreed philosophically with the existence of a self (Mitchell on Descartes’ Epistemology, 232).   

Because I am unfamiliar with all the rules of philosophy, I am only partly sure that my certainty of destination breaks one of them. That concern only lasted for a moment as Descartes’ offering of the pineal glad and Cartesian circle offering to solve the mind body problem was immediately met by an eyeroll at the absurdity. Hence, I was certain I had my intellectual honesty intact even if I had violated a predestination in research rule (again if there is such a rule). This intellectual honesty had me at a serious disadvantage when I engaged with David Hume who argued against the existence of a self at all. Because of our current inability to scientifically show where the self is, or to define the material of which it is made, there is no way to prove its physicality or permanence. Therefore, it does not exist; there is no self (Pojman on Personal Identity in Locke and Hume, 384). While his argument was compelling, it was not insurmountable. First, Hume’s asserted that every real thing must correspond to one real idea (Pojman on Personal Identity in Locke and Hume, 384). The self does not have any singular impression and is therefore not real. I refute this point with one simple question, “Why must it?” While I am sure Hume has a compelling answer for that, I will continue to go back to “…he can never make me be nothing as long as I think that I am something.” In this particular instance, Hume, not Descartes’ evil deity, is the “he.” 

Immanuel Kant

While I would have resigned myself to this idea to preserve my belief of a self, Immanuel Kant did not let me fight this good fight alone for very long. His Copernican revolution changed the way in which experiential knowledge and personal ideas of such knowledge could be deemed as true. Kant suggested that the mind did not conform to experience, but that experience conformed to the mind. Kant suggested that there were two types of reality – noumenal reality and phenomenal reality. Our experience is facilitated by transcendental ideas. These ideas, Kant suggests, are the way in which experience, the noumena that we cannot know is conformed into the phenomena that we can know (Soccio on Kant, 318). In this singular reversal, Kant provided me with a counterpoint to Hume’s suggestion that self was nothing more than a bundle of perceptions. My self, my cogito, is the is the creator of the perceptions. Without my self, there are no perceptions. As Hume has acknowledged the existence of perceptions, in fact bundles of them, I would insist that he therefore acknowledge my self as the facilitator of those perceptions. is Coperiam Hois 

William James furthers my journey, although in a cursory way. While I understand many of his thoughts, I am having a much tougher time determining his point. His tone suggests that he is directly contradicting Kant’s thoughts on transcendental ideas and sides with Hume on the denial of the existence of self, positioning the self as a “function” versus something real (James – Does Consciousness Exist, 3 – 4). However, I will share how his ideas of experience and his metaphor of both the paint and the room set me up for the apex encounter with Cordova and my final argument that my self does exist and it is real in so far as I identify and understand real. James’ proposal that “things,” e.g., the paint and the room, are real both of themselves and within the context of the being experiencing them situates itself, in my mind, in line with Kant’s description of noumena and phenomena. The paint, the room (noumena) cannot be known by my self outside of the transcendental ideas that shape it into the phenomena. Once I have experienced the paint, the room, there is both the paint, the room as they are and my perception of them in my self. The differences between the actuality of the paint, the room and my perceptions of them may be nonexistent or innumerable; they still exist both in themselves and in my self. James describes this ability to exist in multiplicity as the way a point can exist on two separate lines provided that the lines intersect. To this point, I would suggest that one line being the paint’s, the room’s existence, and the other being my self. Without my self, there is no intersection. Regardless of whether one positions the experience within or without, or considers it by addition or subtraction, and regardless of how many instances of the paint, the room exist based on encounters, if they are able exist outside of themselves at all relies on the existence of my self to interact with it.  

This journey explains why my mind was ready with full preparation to encounter V. F. Cordova. Allow me to venture into the illustrative for a moment and I will conclude with reasoned logic, thus covering, I hope, both the relative and absolute belief I have in my self, and the self of others. I found Cordova’s writing to be beautiful and profound. Her respect of nature and our place in it was complete, whether we as individuals respected it or not. Her ability to confront the human condition as a whole, in parts, relative, and separate had the ability to convey both empathy and straight forward judgements. In her explanation of our relationship to nature, our egg in the womb reliance to that which is around us, I found the final piece, for now, that I needed to put my belief that my existence is real, my self is my existence, therefore my self is real.  

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Hera and Aphrodite: Mishaps in Matrimony

July 12, 2021 by

Beginning the journey to learn about the various, and often contradictory, myths has exposed just how little I know about the different gods and goddesses. In particular, I thought Zeus had a different moral compass with a behavior that modeled a more traditional idea of honor. I thought of Hera as composed, and a respected Queen as the wife of Zeus. I did not realize Aphrodite was married. I always assumed (incorrectly), that she was the beautiful free spirit who inspired but did not participate in matrimony. To add to the intrigue, I have become aware of the lack of cannon in the mythological stories themselves. This is where the contradictions, inconsistencies, and various perspectives come from. Because there is no cannon, there is no way to declare with any certainty which telling is the original one. However, one can deduce from the more prevalent myths that the occupation of the role of wife by both Hera and Aphrodite has many similarities. They have similar origins at the hand of Zeus. While their methodology is different, the chaos created by their wifely circumstances is palpable. Although these similarities exist, the favorability enjoyed by Aphrodite is notably different from that offered to Hera.  

Statue of Hera
The Campana Hera, a Roman copy of a Hellenistic original, from the Louvre

The myths (and subsequent consequences) revolve around the desires of Zeus. Far from the benevolent and chivalrous gentleman, Zeus is nothing if not a take what he wants by any mean necessary deity. Procuring Hera as his seventh wife (although I confess to being a bit confused about how that works in the cosmic timeline) is no exception. I assume that Hera found benefit in being Zeus’ sister since it was he that brought her and the rest of their siblings back from the stomach of their father, Kronos. However, as a wife, it would appear that Hera was reluctant. Not one to take no for an answer, Zeus transformed himself into a cuckoo bird in order to entice Hera to bring him close to herself. The seduction worked and they married. This would seem to be the perfect role for the goddess of marriage (Roman and Roman 12). Unfortunately, the rampant promiscuity of her husband led to many difficulties. Hera is often portrayed enraged and jealous, going to treacherous and murderous ends in attempts to punish both her husband and his consorts. 

One such attempt occurred after the birth of Athena. Because of a prophesy, Zeus swallowed Athena’s mother, Metis, while she was pregnant with the goddess. Athena was later born in epic goddess fashion, full formed and fully ready for battle straight from the head of her father. While not technically a result of adultery (Metis and Zeus were married at the time), the birth of a child that was not hers infuriated Hera. I would suppose that after many slights, transgressions, and disloyalties, Hera would find it impossible to endure any encroachments on her position as the current bearer of Zeus’ children. In retaliation, Hera brought forth a child on her own. In keeping with Hera’s commitment to fidelity, she brought forth her son Hephaistos without participation from Zeus or any other entity. Unfortunately for Hera, Hephaistos was not the specimen Athena was. Where Athena was formidable and grand, Hephaistos was anything but. In her frustration, Hera cast her son from Mount Olympus. As one might imagine, this caused a great resentment in Hephaistos. In retaliation, he fashioned a throne designed to trap his mother in unbreakable bonds (Hansen and Hansen 50).  

Now, whatever Zeus was, willing to allow his wife to remain bound to a chair was not one of them. As Hephaistos was the only one who could free Hera, Zeus offered Aphrodite in marriage to whomever succeeded in convincing the disgruntled son to set his mother free. Ares, Aphrodite’s lover, attempted the mission and failed. Dionysus did not. Disliked by Hera himself, the god of wine convinced the craftsman god that the hand of Aphrodite was worth freeing the queen goddess. Hephaistos agreed and Dionysus found Hera’s favor and Hephaistos Aphrodite’s bed (Theoi Greek Mythology). 

Now, like Hera, Aphrodite found herself in a marriage not of her choosing. Also, like Hera, this arrangement left Aphrodite with a disposition for rebellion. Unlike Hera, however, Aphrodite did not feel compelled to maintain her fidelity to her husband. Instead, as the goddess of love, evidently regardless of martial disposition, Aphrodite and Ares continued their passionate love affair. It did not take long for Hephaistos to become aware of the duplicity. In retaliation, he devised a plan to catch the two lovers in the act and exposed their deceit to all the gods and goddess (Hansen and Hansen 113-114).  

The consequences of an unhappy home life for both goddesses were not limited to only the aforementioned examples. Both goddesses developed reputations for disruption that can logically tie back to their dissatisfaction with their husbands. It is important to note that the jealousy, trickery, and vengeance employed by Hera and Aphrodite are not particular to them. On the contrary, gods and goddess have displayed common characteristics of heightened emotions, sensitivity to slights, jealousy, and a desire for swift retribution when they feel as if they disrespected (Hansen and Hansen 35). However, as Hera is the goddess of marriage and Aphrodite the goddess of love, their behavior in the role of wife coincided directly with their respective honors. Therefore, Zeus’ infidelity is intolerable to Hera while remaining faithful in a loveless marriage was impossible for Aphrodite.  

It is easy to dismiss these love affairs as benign. Really, how much harm can come from people, deity or mortal, falling in love?

April Trepagnier

Perhaps because love is viewed as an invigorating emotion evoking thoughts of blooming flowers and young lovers while marriage is an institution for the adult and settled, the interferences of Aphrodite are viewed with less condemnation that those of Hera. Aphrodite was notorious for creating love affairs between gods and mortals to satisfy her amusement. It is easy to dismiss these love affairs as benign. Really, how much harm can come from people, deity or mortal, falling in love? Well, turns out it is a lot actually. Most notable was the Trojan War.  

While the epic of the Trojan War is often told and relatively well known, the genesis of the event is lesser explored and sometimes debated. One version suggests that Aphrodite’s meddling in the amorous affections of mortals and gods had created unforeseen consequences in the area of the resulting children. Real emotion found its way into some of these god-parent/demigod-offspring relationships. Because the demigods were mortal, this caused great strife for their immortal parents. Zeus was ready to see this era come to an end. He then employed Eris and a golden apple and counted on the vanity of the goddess to do its work. And it did. Tasking Paris with the responsibility of awarding the apple to the most beautiful goddess, Athena, Hera, and Aphrodite all made offers to be chosen. Aphrodite once again used the powers of desire, promising Paris the hand of Helen of Troy. This was the selected offer, and she won the golden apple from Paris thus infuriating Hera and Athena (Hansen and Hansen 82).  

Statue of Aphrodite
“Amfiteatri Afërdita“

Because there are a few events that occur in between the golden apple and the actual battles, it is easy to forget that Aphrodite had a hand in the mayhem. Aphrodite probably benefits from equal parts of romantic ideations and distance in proximity from initial cause to final result as she does not typically reveal her dissatisfaction with her marriage in direct relation to her husband. Hera routinely chooses a different method. Her interventions are, as one would expect of the goddess of marriage, directly aimed at the infidelity of her husband. She was nearly successful with her creation of Typhon. A child Hera brought forth on her own, Typhon was arguably the most formidable monster in mythology. Hera’s intention was for her son to overthrow her husband, thus freeing her from his power and punishing him for his infidelity. It nearly worked until Zeus overtook the monster to end the battle (Hansen and Hansen 233-234).  

More often, however, Hera is not quite so direct, choosing to take aim at the those around Zeus instead of the god himself. As such, there are typically relatively innocent women (even Hera fell victim to Zeus’ trickery), and children involved. Hera attempted to kill the infant Herakles, son of Zeus and Alkmene. She tricks Semele, mother of Dionysos, into destroying herself with Zeus’ radiance (Hansen and Hansen 187-188). This victimology rarely lends itself to sympathetic ideals. The result is a harsher view of Hera than Aphrodite experiences.  

Although Hera is considered strong, beautiful, and desirable, she is also characterized as a bitter housewife fueled by jealousy and overcome by pettiness. It occurred to me that this could be the very reason Hephaistos was born slighter in stature, weak, and unattractive. I think that there could be an argument made that Hera’s son is the embodiment of her inner angst. If, in mythological genealogy, like begets like, and Hephaistos comes from Hera alone at a particular time and for the express purpose of retaliating against Zeus for the birth of Athena, then it stands to reason that this would be the child Hera brings forth. Whether this is the actual cause of Hephaistos infirmary, of course I cannot know. However, it is symbolic of the typical way in which Hera and Aphrodite are regarded differently in their wifely roles considering the similarities in their situations.  

When one is considering the idea of “wife” and what that looks like in the context of mythological deities, it is often difficult to reconcile the manipulation, force, and aggression utilized when dealing with matters typically viewed as more romantic. However, it would appear that the deities are no less immune to drama created by emotional and physical desire than mortals. Hera, the Queen of the gods and Aphrodite, arguably the most well-known goddess are not so powerful as to be immune to the consequences of gods, more specifically, Zeus, behaving badly. Both goddesses were manipulated in their role as wife. True to their natures, these manipulations were answered with matronly punishment and seductive cuckolding. While both women may have desired to illuminate the more positive qualities of their honors, the lack of fidelity and passion prevented this for each of them respectively. While both women acted out against perceived wrongs, Hera’s outbursts, whether warranted or not, will always appear to be less flattering than Aphrodite’s indiscretions.  

Work Cited

Hansen, William F., and William F. Hansen. Classical Mythology: a Guide to the Mythical World of the Greeks and Romans. Oxford University Press, 2005.  

Roman, Luke, and Monica Roman. Aphrodite to Zeus: an Encyclopedia of Greek and Roman Mythology. Checkmark Books, 2011.  

“Theoi Greek Mythology.” THEOI GREEK MYTHOLOGY – Exploring Mythology in Classical Literature & Art, www.theoi.com/.  

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Sit Down and Let Go

June 30, 2021 by

When you ask an author when they started to write, they’ll say the usual, “I’ve always been a storyteller,” or some other vague, profound answer. That’s not the case for me. I had always been a reader, but writing didn’t seem worthwhile until I began to read stories made by my peers. 

These stories sucked me in, telling me fantastically unrealistic twists of our reality while depicting flat, boring characters. Poorly written, filled with tropes and clichés, and horribly formatted on an app that had me under its spell, reminding me that anyone could write on their platform. Anyone. 

While I truly believe anyone has the talent to write and everyone has a story to tell, they just lack the craft or motivation to do it, that couldn’t be said for teenage me. I had to prove that I could write a better story. I spent hours writing stories, just as poorly written and horribly crafted as my peers. I posted them, proud of what I had accomplished, thinking the few hundred words I spent hours crafting was the next JK Rowling. (In hindsight, I am so glad I no longer strive to be like JK or any other author. I’d rather pave my own literary career than try to mimic the success of one.) How far from the truth that had been… 

It doesn’t really matter how a writer starts, though. What makes a writer different from someone who likes writing, is the will to sit down and let go. There are thousands of users on that app that spent years writing stories just to write, but they stopped. They haven’t picked up a pen or opened a word doc with the idea of creating a story to post since.

It’s also the most difficult aspect of writing. Some would say coming up with a new, original idea, but breaking through the fog of writer’s block or lack of motivation is a writer’s true downfall. 

There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.

Ernest hemingway

The past few months, I’ve spent most of my free time writing. Mostly fun, little prompts to get the juices flowing and to work the writing muscle. It hasn’t been easy, balancing other projects and work with a social life. I have goals that I try to meet, deadlines that I strive to, and of course, the end dream of one day publishing my manuscript. 

Camp Nanowrimo starts tomorrow. I’ve always found the Nanowrimo project to be motivational, if only to get me to put words on a page. With Camp, I can set my own goal, choose the pages, the hours, the words that I want to create in the month of July. I can even join a cabin, to meet other writers in the same genre, age range, or region as me to cheer each other on as we all write together. 

It’s as cheesy as it sounds. It works for the first week, somewhat of the second, and then… Poof! I won’t think about it again. 

This year, I’d like to really give it a go. I’ve won them before, just barely making the deadlines, but this go around I’m striving for higher. Instead of the usual 50,000 words, I’d like to aim a little higher. Or… right at 100,000.

It’s an outrageous goal. It’s happened before, where I’ve written that much in the span of two months for one project, but never in a month. 

I’d like to take you on this journey with me, to see if you can hold me accountable without all the gushy rainbows and vain commentary that comes with generic writing groups. I hope you’ll join me and maybe decide to sit down, pick up your pen or open a word doc, and let your mind go to another world only you can see. 

Let it all go and write.

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Jordan, Everybody. Everybody, Jordan

June 25, 2021 by

Jordan Sparks is an aspiring author on the pathway to becoming a teacher, with an education built from a partial BFA in Writing at Savannah College of Art and Design and a Bachelor’s in Secondary Education at Georgia State University.  Until she can achieve her plans of being a published author, with her first manuscript nearly finished, she participates in Nanowrimo and several online writing groups. With a focus on contemporary queer works geared toward young adults, she’s used her experience as a college student and in the classroom as a Deep Writing Fellow to strengthen her understanding of her audience as a writer and a person.

I have a tough time with follow through. That’s not entirely accurate. My problem is patience. It took me longer than I care to admit figuring this out. The challenge is that it manifests itself in so many different ways that the root issue of patience was camouflaged. 

You see, when I get an idea, I am like a dog with a bone – completely consumed, singularly focused, highly passionate. If the bone is a biscuit, a treat, this works for me. It’s consumed easily, quickly, efficiently, all in one sitting. If the bone is a squeaky toy, I can make this work too. I may not see progress in finishing the bone, but it makes a fun noise; I know I am doing something even if I am not completely sure what that something is. 

If it is a real bone, a solid bone, a big bone, this is where I find my challenge. There’s no sign of progress, no way to tell how long the endeavor will take, no certainty that I can finish it or be successful with it. Sticking with this bone in a consistent way is not my strong suit. For a long time, I was tough on myself because I thought this meant things about me that I viewed as shameful. I thought that it meant that I was lazy, fearful, soft, fickle, a quitter. 

This was a tough figure out for me. I was torn between trying to be brutally honest with myself and a nagging feeling that these things were not true about me – even if the evidence suggested that they were. 

One of the first steps to figuring this out was getting some help. I needed someone who could think for me, think like me, but function differently enough to organize my chaos, put me on task, and track what I considered to be untrackable. 

Y’all, I don’t always realize how great my ideas are as soon as I have them, but I realized bringing Jordan on as my assistant was a game changer almost as soon as she agreed to the position.

For nearly three months, Jordan has been my other brain, my scorekeeper, my nudge, my handler, my finagler. When I tell you she is brilliant, trust that it is an understatement. 

It was during the first two of these three months that I attempted and failed to be the task completer she hoped I would be. I was stumped. I imagine she was frustrated (although she never showed it). Here is this perfectly curated plan, brilliantly laid out in exactly the way my brain works. This should be my EXACT type of bone. Yet I am still unable to bite into, to stick with. WTAF?

Patience. I am impatient with myself, I am impatient with the process, I am impatient with the results. The path that Jordan has laid out for me is not a 5-minute quick draw. It is a journey into the productive, creative, academic, successful endeavors I want to participate in. It has always been that. But it took Jordan’s involvement to help me see it. I couldn’t be more appreciative of the discovery and her patience while I find my own. 

Now, I share her with you. I have no idea what she is going to write about, what type of conversations she is going to start, how often, or anything. I just know she asked for space here and I was honored to give it. If she is half as brilliant for you as she has been for me, we are all in for a treat.

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Fixing April

January 10, 2019 by

One of the healthiest decisions I ever made (that I honestly didn’t even realize I was making) was the choice to leave my menstrual cycle alone.

(Edit – keep reading. Turns out we aren’t talking about periods at all today)

I really wasn’t going to lead with that, but I figured I should go ahead and just put it out there. I realize it’s 2019 but there are still some folks who are funny about talking about that kind of thing and I respect it. I didn’t want them to get a little bit in and feel ambushed by hormones and biology.

Anyway, I really thought I was going to start out by telling you about when I started taking the pill. Funny thing about that – I can’t remember. I just assumed that it would have been a pretty big deal to me back in 199whatever and I would recall the memory upon reflection. I can’t. I can’t even tell you if it was high school or the Navy. At some point, I transitioned to the Depo shot, stayed there for a while, and went back to the pill. But I can’t remember the particulars of those times either.

How interesting is it that there was a large chunk of my life I so misunderstood and underappreciated one of my body’s major rhythm and energy centers that I routinely fucked with it flippantly enough that it didn’t even create a lasting memory. Wow. That’s not quite where I thought this was going as it was a detail I hadn’t considered until just now. Makes me even more glad I just went ahead and put the whole period thing out there in the beginning because evidently, I don’t even know where we are headed this morning.

What I do remember is how emotional my second pregnancy was compared to my first. I remember what postpartum depression felt like. I was lucky that it was the second and not the first. Had it been my first maybe I would have dismissed it as normal or labeled it as a failure on my part. It was 2001 after all. The legions of mommy bloggers, Pinterest boards, Facebook groups, and Instagram inspiration weren’t around. Hell, MySpace wasn’t even a thing yet. Double hell, we had just reached the “more adults own cell phones than don’t” mark. Access to information was markedly different.

I knew something was different and it was probably me. April Trepagnier, See the Butterfly

What I lacked in outside information, I made up for in self awareness and experience. I knew this wasn’t what all pregnancies felt like. I knew this wasn’t what bringing home all newborn babies felt like. I knew something was different and it was probably me.

That was my first experience with mental health pharmaceuticals and, in all honesty, it was very helpful. I’m thankful it went as well as it did as it was the time before a person could do a whole lot of research on their own or discuss with a larger group of people. It took the edge off long enough for me to “get myself right” which, gratefully, didn’t take very long. I am nearly certain that can be attributed to my immediate focus on diet and exercise. Of course, I didn’t realize that at the time. I just saw it as the appropriate steps needed to take off the massive amounts of baby weight I had packed on. It worked; the medication was appreciated and short lived.

My head rested on his back, my sobs transferred the weight from my heart to his shoulders. April Trepagnier, See the Butterfly

In 2005 I lost my baby. That was a situation I had no frame of reference for. Again, the internet wasn’t huge. You knew who you knew, and a lot of business was still private. To say I was devastated and unhinged would be an understatement. In fact, it would be 2017, over a decade later, that I would find any comfort, peace, or closure.  On our back porch in the middle of a sunny day, I told him my story, Gracie’s story. My head rested on his back, my sobs transferred the weight from my heart to his shoulders. In 2005 however, I was medicated. Again, it was helpful, and I was thankful. And again, I wasn’t on it for very long. I got pregnant again quickly and stopped taking them.

Prior to that loss would be the last time things were easy for me emotionally. The next decade would bring a roller coaster of life with one real exception – you can see the drops coming on an amusement park ride; not so much with life.

In 2010 I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder II. This piece of information was not devastating. In all actuality, it was a comfort. It settled the air around me for a while. Those who routinely thought less of my personality felt comfortable “letting it be” and were patient in waiting for me “to get right.” It was a box I could step into, a shield I could hold up when judgements got to be overwhelming.

Unfortunately, it required me to agree that something was “wrong with me” and I had to take the steps to “fix it.” For the first time doctors were attempting to figure out which meds would effectively make me, at a person level, “better” instead of supporting me while I worked through a tough spot.

The last go at “fixing April” was Seroquel. It is an antipsychotic commonly used to treat depression, schizophrenia, and bipolar disorder. In my body, it was a nightmare. For three days, from the time my kids left for school until after lunchtime, I would sit, white knuckle clutching the arms of a chair, trying desperately to remember that I did not really want to hurt myself or someone else. After the first day, I called the doctor and was told the meds just needed time to even out. After the third day I flushed it all down the toilet. I didn’t have whatever amount of time those meds needed.

At this point, the internet is moving along pretty good. I start trying to learn if there is a way to fix myself. I refuse anymore prescriptions – even my birth control. I focus again on diet and exercise. I learn about mindful cognitive behavior. I’m vegan for over a year. I finish a 50 mile run. I discover chiropractic care and acupuncture. I get a great therapist. The only medicine I agree to is to control my high blood pressure because, for the life of me, I can’t figure out how to do it on my own. Even then, I am guarded and questioning. The one time the docs tried to increase my dosage as the effectiveness was waning, I declined in favor of giving my acupuncturist a go at it first. She handled it.

I burnt it all down. What would stay would stay and what wouldn’t, well, it just wouldn’t. April Trepagnier, See the Butterfly

I wish I could tell you I got real and strong and balanced. I didn’t. I got scared. The more effective and healthy I became, the more I realized I was never “broken” to begin with. But that truth didn’t coincide at all with the reality I was living. Worse, it was beginning to become very apparent that they never would. I was turning 40 and had been battling with myself for over a decade. I was scared to choose between the woman I was and the woman I was. That is not a typo. So, I burnt it all down. What would stay would stay and what wouldn’t, well, it just wouldn’t.

For what it’s worth, that was not the approach the therapist suggested. In fact, she strongly urged against it. But call it impatient, weak, scared, frustrated, whatever, I did not have one more measured step in me. I was too scared, too tired, and too over it.

What stayed was my desire to be better, my want of happy, my love of humanity, my need to know myself. What didn’t was the box, the shield, and the bipolar diagnosis. It took several months to let the embers of my inferno cool off, but when the dust settled, the diagnosis was rescinded. Turns out I wasn’t cycling through mood swings. I simply had allowed myself to attempt to function in an unfunctioning environment for far too long.

I will include the passage I encountered in my reading this morning that prompted this whole thing…but it probably won’t make any sense. I am already over 1300 words in and I really just wanted to tell you about how acupuncture fixed my damn periods and how embracing my natural cycle allows me to feel more connected to my Wild Woman nature. Oh well, maybe tomorrow.

“Over time, we have seen the feminine instinctive nature looted, driven back, and overbuilt. For long periods it has been mismanaged like the wildlife and the wildlands. For several thousand years, as soon and as often as we turn our backs, it is relegated to the poorest land in the psyche. The spiritual lands of the Wild Woman have, throughout history, been plundered or burnt, dens bulldozed, and natural cycles forced into unnatural rhythms to please others.”

~ Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With the Wolves
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Unused Creativity is Not Benign

September 4, 2018 by

Unused creativity is not benign. It metastasizes. It turns into grief, rage, sorrow, shame. ~ Brene Brown

I am fighting the urge to close the laptop and do something – anything else. It’s not that I don’t want to write; I absolutely do. I am just not sure what I want to say. That’s not accurate. It would be more honest to say I want to write all the things, say all the things, do all the things, and catch up on the every minute of time I have ever wasted before I have to wake the house up in an hour.

Just for clarity, that’s impossible. Because it is impossible, I have the overwhelming urge to just throw up my hands and do nothing – again. Never mind the ridiculousness of the expectation.

Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the intersection of Doubt and Sabotage. It’s a seedy little part of town where no one like to be seen so there’s a quick little cut through to Keeping up Appearances. The shops there are cute but the food is horrible.

There’s is also a pretty good bit of self talk going on that says “FFS, are we really talking about this – again? You are seriously starting to sound like a hack. For over 30 years you have put words on paper, lose consistency, talk about lost consistency, put words on paper – wash, rinse, repeat. Same with running. Same with food. Same with the gym life. Same with your housekeeping. Same with time management. Same with your parenting. Same with your ability to maintain relationship. I am noticing a pattern here and Ape, the verdict is you just suck.”

If you are thinking that’s a little harsh, you’d be right. If you’re thinking it’s a bit overwhelming, you’d be right again. If you think I am unusual in this assault on myself because you yourself have never had thoughts like this, that’s where you’d miss the mark.  This kind of asinine self talk is more common than you think.

So I am here again. Talking about it again.

About a year ago I discovered Gary Vaynerchuck. For those of you familiar, yes, I know I’m late. For those of you that don’t, might I suggest him. While I am not actively attempting to build an empire, Gary’s content regularly resonates. I have found quite a few parallels between growing as a business and as a person. The most recent example has been between Brene’s work on shame and Gary’s suggestion that documentation is just as powerful as creation.

Brene ~

You either walk into your story and own your truth, or you live outside of your story, hustling for your worthiness…Our brains are hardwired to protect and that often means wanting to run or fight. At work that can look like rationalizing, hiding out, and/or blaming others…The most difficult part of our stories is often what we bring to them—what we make up about who we are and how we are perceived by others. Yes, maybe we failed or screwed up a project, but what makes that story so painful is what we tell ourselves about our own self-worth and value.

Owning our stories means acknowledging our feelings and wrestling with the hard emotions—our fear, anger, aggression, shame, and blame. This isn’t easy, but the alternative—denying our stories and disengaging from emotion—means choosing to live our entire lives in the dark. It means no accountability, no learning, no growth.

Gary ~

Documenting your journey versus creating an image of yourself is the difference between saying “You should…” versus “my intuition says…” Get it? It changes everything. I believe that the people who are willing to discuss their journeys instead of trying to front themselves as the “next big thing” are going to win…just start talking about the things most important to you. Because in the end, the creative (or how “beautiful” someone thinks your content is) is going to be subjective. What’s not subjective is the fact that you need to start putting yourself out there and keep swinging.

Starting is the most important part and the biggest hurdle that most people are facing. They’re pondering and strategizing instead of making. They’re debating what’s going to happen when they haven’t even looked at what’s in front of them.

Therein lies a pretty solid road map for avoiding the traffic jam at that Doubt and Sabotage intersection. And that’s all I really need. The truth is most of my journey is going to have to go through that intersection – avoiding it is damn near impossible. Going through it is fine – getting hung up there is the killer.

Interestingly enough another thought just occurred to me – getting hung up there is a killer. That’s what I tell myself. But that’s not really true either. It’s not a killer…I’m still here. And so are you.

Filed Under: Chrysalis Tagged With: , , , ,

Writing and Keeping Receipts on Myself

April 9, 2018 by

Recently I came across a writing folder that contained my earliest works. I mean like 30 years ago early. I experienced a whole range of emotions flipping through the pages. That is a topic for another day. But I mention it because that feeling of holding a piece of you that you had long since forgot about is a part of why this text from a friend struck me as holding way more meaning than she probably considered.

I looked at a few of the pieces. It occurred to me that while they really weren’t that good, maybe they could be. Maybe that could be a long term project of idea mining and rewriting into something that is actually readable. Maybe I could tap back into the spirit and rework the attempt and make it better.

Then I realized I couldn’t remember writing any of it. I know that it was me. I recognize the format, the paper, the typeset. My name is on them. But I don’t remember the act of actually writing them. It occurred to me how different that was from the project a few months back when I went through all the Turn Around Tuesdays I had written. I could remember all of that. Sometimes I could remember too much.

Then this text came through. “Envious” and “appreciate” jumped out at me. The feeling was a bit overwhelming and it has taken a minute to sort that all out. The text, and my feelings towards it, hold a lot of truth, some of them seemingly contradicting.

First, I am appreciative, both of the text and my writing. I appreciated my friend and her willingness to be a positive influence on my life. I know she is a regular reader of my words and it gave me a sense of pride that she sees growth in it. I do appreciate all the bonuses and benefits that come with being a writer. Much of who I am as a person, who I am able to be, comes from the fact that I can put words together in a way that makes sense to me and untangles all the thoughts. It also allows me to taste ideas, experiences, memories, lessons, in a way that I just can’t any other way. I am supremely appreciative for all those things.

I understand envy as well. I have friends that are accomplished in ways I really want to be but haven’t quite figured out yet. I watch people deal with situations, employ a mental flexibility, that I haven’t quite mastered. I am familiar with the want of that not yet obtained. It is interesting to find that my writing catalog has provoked that, especially when the this huge blessing, like most, has a tiny bit of curse hanging around.

Curse probably isn’t the most appropriate word choice. But it is something akin to that. There is somewhat of a burden that comes with having a great deal of your thoughts manifest themselves in a real way so that later, when you are investigating thoughts, you have this tangible thing from the time before. In essence, I keep receipts on myself.

Today, sitting here, I am more appreciative than I am burdened. As I close this one thought, I am already bursting at the seams to begin another. That, my friends, is a good day indeed.

Filed Under: Writing Tagged With: , , ,

Sidetracked

February 27, 2018 by

This is not what I want to write about this morning. But I am not going to ignore the reasons in which I found myself here to begin with. So, I will sit here and do what I do and see where it goes.

I also haven’t had my first cup of coffee yet. As I reach for it, I realize that thought up there may be expressed in a way that comes off a little harder and frustrated than I actually feel. That’s not quite right. A bit side eyed is exactly how I feel, but not because my intentions were so quickly redirected this morning. The more I think about it, I think it’s just the proximity of the redirection to my first cup of coffee. Anyway…

I woke up this morning with the intention of getting back to Daring Greatly. While getting my coffee and settling into the thinking chair, I had a sliver of an idea that suggested writing prompts were a super good idea. It would add some variety to my subject matter. Variety, it happens, has been something I have been thinking about while playing with the idea that my writings as of late have been a bit indulgent and self centered. I’m not sure that I mind that so much, it is my writing after all, and this little blog isn’t the only thing I am working on. But it was a wonder that came from somewhere so I thought it fair to give it a bit of attention.

I grabbed my Writer’s Companion with the intention of just flipping through it a bit while I let the first bit of coffee do it’s thing, before hanging out with Brene. I opened it up to a random, unintentional place, and this is the first prompt I encounter. 

A lot of different things happened in my brain pretty quickly.

First, I couldn’t believe how the opening line resonated with me. This is literally THE thing I have been wondering about most when it comes to my general headspace and tone in my writing. And then here it is. Laid out like permission, insistence even, from the universe to keep doing the work. I understand that I am particularly open to the “follow this inspiration” idea as it is a central concept in Elizabeth Gilbert’s book, Big Magic – the book which is currently blowing my little brain at the moment.

“Holy shit! Would you look at that,” happens next as I read on and see that it is, in fact, Elizabeth Gilbert who gets the mention in this prompt. That instantly smacks of universal confirmation to continue going deep. To continue to write about those hard, fun, interesting, not so different but feels like a battle things I discover or remember about myself. This is a ton of fun and I’m enjoying my little universal tango.

“Leave our lives behind for indulgent travel?” I am sideways smacked with irritation. I mean the shift is instant and jarring. I actually close the book to see what heifer wrote this trash. Seriously. It occurs to me that this a rather extreme response to something that is pretty innocuous. But, dammit, it feels very nocuous. I mean for real. You think the best way to describe a person’s account of blowing up lives and relationships because you literally see no other way to save yourself from being completely obliterated under all the “ought tos” and you’re pretty sure if you don’t do something your soul is going to be lost to the great unknown forever so you pack up and travel to foreign places where you are alone and have to figure out what in the hell you did and what in the hell you are going to do now is with the words “leave our lives behind for indulgent travel?” Get the fuck out of here.

I am beginning to feel something of a temper tantrum toddler, so I slow down a bit. I understand that I hold a lot of appreciation for Elizabeth Gilbert and her writing. Eat, Pray, Love changed the way I look at writing and authenticity and “ought tos.” Committed helped me work through, in pretty quick fashion, a fairly brain tangled spot in the journey from the life before to the life now. And Big Magic, well, that’s just been amazing. So the truth is I felt like someone had said something super judgy and condescending about a girlfriend to my face. That, I recognize, is ridiculous on two main fronts. First, Elizabeth Gilbert is not someone I know personally. Second, neither is Amy Peters. I am currently all up in my feelings about a statement that was probably well intended towards someone who may very well see it as such herself.

But neither do I discount the discord. I have an understanding that not all feelings express truth. All feelings are indicative of a truth, but what is felt on the surface isn’t always the thing. It is my job to figure out the difference and get to the root of the thing.

After I have stepped back from it, I am glad I allowed this momentary derailment of my morning plans to do what it wanted. I am glad I was open to whatever it was. I am glad that when it felt uncomfortable (even if that uncomfortable wasn’t of any real consequence) I didn’t shy away from it. Understand I completely realize what a small thing all of this is. But it gave me an example to draw from whenever I get up in my feelings about assuming someone else’s motive, think I have any control over how things I create are received once I release them, feel like closing myself off from the gentle suggestions of my thoughts. And that is worth a couple hours of sidetracked.

 

Filed Under: The Thinking Chair Tagged With: , , ,