a theme for the new year

Why I need an attitude adjustment


Did you see that? I almost started this post by bitch-slapping myself. Self-judgement, self-loathing, self-fulfilling masochism. Begone!

An article that I read on the Huffington Post a few days ago was intriguing - enough so that I still remember it:  Why a New Year's Theme Works Better Than a Resolution says that specific goals don't work because they're too - well - specific. You want to lose a particular amount of fat tissue, and redistribute the remainder to fit into some arbitrary manufacturer's sizing schema. Or you want to make more time for .... something. Or you want to spend less time on .... something. You are choosing a result, not a path.

Instead, the author suggests, choose "a word that resonates with you and embodies something that has been missing... Keep your theme in mind and allow your days to unfold from there." Her examples of theme words include mindfulness and nourishment.

When I shared the article on Facebook, my family and friends loved the idea. My glorious and generous aunt said she'd need several words, or a sentence... One word isn't enough for me, either, so I shall give myself two, taking the sub-theme of generosity from my aunt.

My theme words for 2014 are hope and courage. Hope, Emily's "thing with feathers," reminds me to open my heart to the possibility of good outcomes - not an easy thing for a lifelong depressive. Courage clasps hands with the hopeful self, saying "take the step, begin here, have a little bit of faith that you can do this."  These are huge and scary concepts to a survivor of childhood trauma, one whose energies have been aimed at finding a safe place, a nook, enough.   

Remember: these are themes, not goals. If they have been missing, they can be added to the batter, even now. Even tomorrow. 

Hope and courage to you, all who are reading this. Let's see where this goes. And here is Emily Dickinson to start the new year.


Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Emily Dickinson, for poem in your pocket day -

Once a year, the Academy of American Poets invites each of us to carry a poem to share.  This is my choice. 




I dwell in Possibility –

A fairer House than Prose –

More numerous of Windows –

Superior – for Doors –

Of Chambers as the Cedars –

Impregnable of eye –

And for an everlasting Roof

The Gambrels of the Sky –

Of Visitors – the fairest –

For Occupation – This –

The spreading wide my narrow Hands

To gather Paradise –

done, and done

No, not the blog, although one might think so, since my posts have been so infrequent . My career. Buh-bye. New York State offered an incentive I couldn't refuse, and I didn't. I'll be over and done, 10-4 good buddy, on 10 September, at least in this incarnation of a career.

I was dithering until last Tuesday, when my therapist provided me with clarity, and a mantra. Should I leave now, should I wait until November, blah blah blah... and she said, "Teabird, you're done."  She's right. (She doesn't really call me Teabird.) I'm done.

I.Am.Done. I.Am.Done. I.Am.Done. I.Am.Done. 

Done is good. A job well and truly done is good. Time now to breathe, and move on.

What have I been doing? Reading, some. I've read the first two Sookie Stackhouse novels on my eReader, and I'm listening to Saturday by Ewan McEwan. I bought the e-book of Lives Like Loaded Guns by Lyndall Gordon, the new biography of Emily Dickinson, and started to read it today.

Writing, some. Mostly letters, some rather tardy. My friend Stoneview inspired me to join Postcrossing, which I did today, and my friend Madame Purl inspired me to take up crewel embroidery, which I shall as soon as I get the design I've been drooling after considering on eBay for a month. 

Spinning, some. I've spun another big hank of the Teddy Bear roving and more of the AbbyBatt, and almost finished the shawl I was knitting when last I mentioned knitting.

Spending, some. I've just ordered a tiny inkle loom from here, and I'm looking forward to some loomtime with Penny (not to mention scritch 'n' snuggle time with Shadow Ninja).

Fretting, some. That's my nature.

And - beginning to see possibilities for adventure, learning, growth, facetime with friends, and maybe even productive uses of precious time. Just beginning. I don't want to jinx anything.

Over to you.  Are you retired? Are you going to retire soon? What does "retire" mean to you? I really want to know.

Oh, by the way: this spindle was designed for me by Yorkieslave, whose purse puppies have become an obsession (and a growing collection). This one depicts a fossil, in amber, one of my favourite things. Amber is wonderful for a spindle, for jewelry, and for an object of contemplation. It's also good for a reminder of what not to be...

p.s. - this post is for Carrie, who prodded me to write it... go over and wish her a belated happy birthday!

Happy birthday, Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

wisdom from Emily Dickinson

A Man may make a Remark

A Man may make a Remark —
In itself — a quiet thing
That may furnish the Fuse unto a Spark
In dormant nature — lain —

Let us deport — with skill —
Let us discourse — with care —
Powder exists in Charcoal —
Before it exists in Fire.

Forgive me, please, if I find political meaning in Emily's
decidedly nonpolitical poem. I'm afraid that some of the
remarks that have been made in the Democratic primaries will
smoulder, return as sparks in the fall, and ignite the political
process into fiery idiocy. 

If we the people are content to discuss whether Barak Obama's 
patriotism should be measured by whether he wears a
particular piece of jewelry on his lapel, or if we are content
to vote for a woman who proposed a constitutional amendment
banning flag burning, or if we are content to allow reactionaries
to try to indict Barak Obama as a Muslim (and I use the word
"indict" on purpose, as yet another instance of mass bigotry and
stupidity) --
well, we may, perhaps, deserve what we get.

I am too depressed about yesterday's primary to embody the
audacity of hope.  In fact, hope doesn't seem audacious today -
it seems preposterous.

Please tell me why I'm wrong - or if I'm wrong.

Wordless Wednesday (click for the words)