Photo courtesy Dominik Martin

Introduction by Ted Kooser: If you’ve followed this column through a good part of the...years we’ve been publishing it, you know how hooked I am on poems that take a close look at the ordinary world. Here’s a fine poem by Eamon Grennan, who lives in New York state, about bees caught up against a closed window.

Up Against It

It’s the way they cannot understand the window

they buzz and buzz against, the bees that take

a wrong turn at my door and end up thus

in a drift at first of almost idle curiosity,

cruising the room until they find themselves

smack up against it and they cannot fathom how

the air has hardened and the world they know

with their eyes keeps out of reach as, stuck there

with all they want just in front of them, they must

fling their bodies against the one unalterable law

of things—this fact of glass—and can only go on

making the sound that tethers their electric

fury to what’s impossible, feeling the sting in it.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2010 by Eamon Grennan from his most recent book of poems, Out of Sight: New & Selected Poems, Graywolf Press, 2010. Poem reprinted by permission of Eamon Grennan and the publisher. Introduction copyright 2013 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004- 2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Visit the Authentic Happiness website for a selection of questionnaires to help you evaluate different aspects of happiness.

Take a Happiness Quiz at The Pursuit of Happiness website. 

See how the Brits evaluate happiness by filling out the Oxford Happiness Questionnaire. 

I got a B+ on the Blue Zones True Happiness Test. 

Happify.com provides happiness testing every couple of weeks for members, as well as a host of activities designed to improve happiness levels. “Tracks” focus on the concepts of Savoring, Thanking, Aspiring, Giving, and Empathizing. Access to the basic happiness tracks is free.

The benefit of these questionnaires and quizzes, in my opinion, is that they help you think about your life in specific terms. What is going well? How many stressful events have you endured lately? What types of emotions have been surfacing? What could be improved? They can also help you notice how good your life really is by helping you to focus on the positives. A little reflection can go a long way towards improving your overall happiness.

Your mission today, should you choose to accept it, is to be happy. Not just for yourself, but for those around you (there is proof that happiness is contagious).

Why today? Because March 20 is International Day of Happiness, established by the United Nations to celebrate and promote “the happiness and well-being of all peoples.” Truly a cause I can get behind!

Of course, there are a number of official happiness events, and even a Facebook page, but you can celebrate in your own way.  Take the chance to think about what makes you happy—and do it! True happiness is not about what you have or only about seeking your own pleasure. True happiness stems from, among other things, meaning and appreciation. I know I’m happiest when I’m working at what I believe to be my true purpose, while at the same time noticing and appreciating all the good things in my life.

So go ahead—be happy. (And do share on social media using the hashtag #InternationalDayofHappiness.)

Here are three links to inspire you:

25 Inspirational Sayings About Joy

“7 Ways to Celebrate International Day of Happiness”

Happy music!

How will you celebrate happiness today?

“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.”

My dog Scout will be 16 years old on Sunday, and as you might expect, she has some health issues. One of them is that she can’t always sleep through the night without having to relieve herself. Her bed is on a chair on my side of the room, so I’m the one who hears her jump down, and I’m the one who slips on her leash and takes her outside. Usually, I try not to wake up all the way so that I’ll stand a chance of going back to sleep, but this morning, at 2 a.m., I found myself looking up at the stars while I waited for Scout. The air felt cool and fresh, Orion’s belt twinkled in the night sky. The neighborhood was silent, peaceful. Scout was quick, and I returned to my warm bed and quickly fell asleep. What could have been (and often is) an annoyance turned into a moment of delight for me.

I’ve been working on going with the flow, relaxing my death grip on life and paying more attention to little moments of delight when they’re presented to me: when my favorite song comes on the radio, when Prudy jumps up on my desk for some attention, when I grab my book and steal some reading time in the afternoon. It’s easy to find delight in things like that—not quite so easy to find delight when woken at 2 a.m., and I admit that I’m more likely to complain about that situation than to recount how lovely the stars look sparkling in the velvety darkness… Just this once, though, I was able to let go and admire the night sky. It was unexpectedly delightful. I’m not sure I would have found it so without my recent focus on delight. Which goes to show, I guess, that you find more of what you focus on.

Introduction by Ted Kooser: Here’s a fine poem by Heather Allen, a Connecticut poet who pays close attention to what’s right under her feet. It may seem ordinary, but it isn’t.

Grasses

So still at heart,

They respond like water

To the slightest breeze,

Rippling as one body,

And, as one mind,

Bend continually

To listen:

The perfect confidants,

They keep to themselves,

A web of trails and nests,

Burrows and hidden entrances—

Do not reveal

Those camouflaged in stillness

From the circling hawks,

Or crouched and breathless

At the passing of the fox.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©1996 by Heather Allen. Reprinted from Leaving a Shadow, 1996, by permission of Copper Canyon Press, www.coppercanyonpress.org. Introduction copyright 2014 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

I hope you had as pleasant a weekend as I did. My mother-in-law came for an overnight visit, which gave me an excuse to drop my usual routine and go with the flow. I don’t know about you, but I too often become slave to my schedule and to-do list (out of fear that I’ll slack off and get too far behind to catch up!) instead of staying in the moment and doing what feels right. This weekend, I relaxed more, spent time talking with Mom and followed my instincts regarding the things I did.  Despite “losing” an hour to Daylight Saving Time, I ended up having the most delight-ful weekend, as well as accomplishing the following:

Ate at a new local restaurant we’ve been meaning to try for breakfast Sunday.

Repotted plants. A few of my orchids needed attention, and I had a new rosemary plant to take out of its peat pot as well as some tiny basil seedlings that needed transplanting.

Trimmed catnip leaves to dry for Prudy (and a few of my friends who also have catnip-loving cats).

Cleaned and refilled the birdbath.

Refilled the squirrel bird feeder outside my office window.

Bathed Scout and washed her dog bed.

Took Prudy on a supervised wander in the back yard.

Picked some volunteer Florida Everglades tomatoes (and ate them).

Watched an episode of The Gilmore Girls from a library DVD while I planned my week.

Sorted through some old magazines, keeping the few pages I wanted and letting the rest go.

So often it’s the little things, the simple pleasures, that add up to happy days—both now and in the future. Even though I did only what I felt like doing, I still got many things done. And I’ll enjoy the results, when my orchids bloom, when we eat the fresh herbs, and when I watch the squirrels birds on the feeder.

What did you do this weekend?

“The most empowered place we can be is not, ‘I’ve got it all figured out.’ It is to be brave enough to ask the questions over and over, ‘What am I not seeing that’s limiting me? What do I need to see that’s new for me?’ We’re afraid to ask that, because we’re worried about what we might have to confront and deal with as a result. But that’s what frees us: facing what we need to face, giving up what we need to give up, and being a yes for what’s next.”

I’m determined to do a better job of living my word of the year in 2015—why not when it’s such a nice one? So I plan to review my progress every month or so, and see how much delight I’m allowing into my life. Since I am the “gatekeeper of delight,” so to speak, here are three ways I’m exploring the concept:

Noticing

Instead of blindly rushing through my day, I have made deliberate attempts to slow down both my movements and my thoughts so I can pay better attention to the details. That first sip of coffee in the morning—delicious! How relaxed and strong my body feels after yoga class. The deep pleasure of climbing into bed at the end of the day. I’m blessed with more delightful moments than I recognized.

Seeking

It can feel really selfish to seek out delight, but I am letting go of the guilt feelings that arise when I “indulge” myself. Last month, I made the mundane more delightful by picking up a cinnamon dolce latte and a new book to read while I waited for an oil change. I played music every chance I got—using my iPod while vacuuming and mopping and listening to Pandora while working in my office. I’m also making sure I take short breaks during the day, rewarding myself when I complete a task, especially if it’s one I don’t enjoy. When faced with any choice now, the go-to question is, “Does this delight me?”

Sharing

I’m also working on becoming more mindful of ways to share delight with other people, through acts of kindness, thoughtful words, or sharing something (book, movie, website, food!) that will bring pleasure to someone else. There’s much delight in sharing delight!

So far, the first life lesson “delight” has given me is this: It’s OK to enjoy my life. To take delight in simple pleasures and everyday adventures. I don’t need to feel guilty or uncomfortable because I have such a good life when so many people do not. It has been repeatedly pointed out to me that my suffering or unhappiness doesn’t help anyone else. In fact, it can add to the unhappiness of those who care about me. Instead, I dare to feel more delight, more happiness, and to spread it to others every chance I get.

When and how do you dare to feel delight?

Happy Friday! You know what that means: the weekend is almost here. Time to play! If it’s too cold to play outside, or you just feel like playing online instead, here’s a dose of Link Love. Enjoy!

If you don’t have much time to practice your passion, you need to make that practice smarter. Leanne Sowul’s guest post “5 Ways to Practice Smarter When You Don’t Have Much Time to Practice” explains how.  I used several of these principles during my recent 31-Days-of-Sketching experiment. 

This old (2013) post on Raptitude contains some solid common sense. But like David, I don’t always live what I know. I’m looking at you, number 10. For even more common sense advice, click here. 

Leo Babauta consistently posts thoughtful and well-written pieces on Zen Habits. Two of my recent favorites: “Getting Lost in Just Doing” and “An Addict’s Guide to Overcoming the Distraction Habit.”

“Busyness is a lie that will break you.” So much to love about this post.

I already have too many hobbies, but I know people who are looking for something new to try. If you’re one of them, check out Hobby Club.  Every month, you’ll get to try something new, and the cost is only $12 for the entire year!

Meerkat cam! 

Introduction by Ted Kooser: Kansas is flat and we all know that. So, where does a boy go when he feels like sledding down a hill? Casey Pycior, raised in Kansas, tells us.

Sledding in Wichita

As cars pass, laboring through the slush,

a boy, bundled against the stiff wind

in his snow suit, gloves, and scarf,

leans on his upright toboggan,

waiting his turn atop

the snow-packed overpass—

the highest point in town.

First one car exits, and then another,

each creeping down the icy ramp.

The brown grass pokes through

the two grooves carved in the short hill.

As the second car fishtails to a stop at the bottom,

brake lights glowing on the dirty snow,

the boy’s turn comes.

His trip to the bottom is swift—

only a second or two—

and he bails out just before the curb.

It’s not much, but it’s sledding in Wichita.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2011 by Casey Pycior and reprinted by permission of the poet. Introduction copyright 2013 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

A simple pleasure for many book lovers (including me) is reading about 1) What other people are reading, and 2) Why other people read. I’m quite curious (not to say nosy) about others’ books and reading habits. (If I come to your house and you momentarily lose track of me, you’ll find me poking through your bookshelves.) I extend this to reading books about books and reading, not because I need more recommendations for what to read, but because reading fascinates me, and it adds to my enjoyment to share it with like-minded (and sometimes not-so-like-minded) readers.  Judging by the number of books about books and reading, I’m not the only one. I have a small collection of these on my own shelves (which you are welcome to explore) and a several more on my TBR list.

I bring this up now because I just finished reading Nick Hornby’s  The Polysyllabic Spree, a collection of his “Stuff I’ve Been Reading” columns for The Believer. I enjoyed it so much I’m now on the hunt for the three other collections of his columns: Housekeeping vs. the Dirt, Shakespeare Wrote for Money  and More Baths Less Talking all of which I want to read right now.  I’ve put Shakespeare and More Baths on hold with my library, but they don’t have Housekeeping, unfortunately. I loved Hornby’s chatty and personal tone, and though we mostly read very different types of books, he made me laugh out loud, and there were several passages that resonated with me, including this one: “…I suddenly had a little epiphany: all the books we own, both read and unread, are the fullest expression of self we have at our disposal….with each passing year, and with each whimsical purchase, our libraries become more and more able to articulate who we are, whether we read the books or not.”

The problem with reading books like this is that I always come away with more books to read—an ongoing problem for me, as you all know. I may have checked this one book off my TBR list, but I’ve added at least three more. Oh, well.

But back to books about books, which, if you remember, is the theme of this ever-lengthening post. If, like me, you love reading about others’ reading habits, I offer this incomplete list of books about reading, beginning with books on the subject that I have already read:

Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader, Anne Fadiman. Eighteen essays, and (oh, dear) a recommended reading list. She writes beautifully, and just looking at the table of contents makes me want to reread this book. These pieces are also compiled from a column written for a magazine, and what I want to know is: how do I get a job writing a column about reading? 

Ruined by Reading: A Life in Books, Lynne Sharon Schwartz. I could have written this snippet, so well does it describe what often happens to me:

“In a bookstore, I leaf through the book next to the one I came to buy, and a sentence sets me quivering. I buy that one instead, or as well…. A remark overheard on a bus reminds me of a book I meant to read last month. I hunt it up in the library and glance in passing at the old paperbacks on sale for twenty-five cents. There is the book so talked about in college—it was to have prepared me for life and here I have blundered through decades without it. Snatch it up quickly before it’s too late. And so what we read is as wayward and serendipitous as any taste or desire. Or perhaps randomness is not so random after all. Perhaps at every stage what we read is what we are, or what we are becoming, or desire.”  Oh, and I bought this book for a quarter at my library’s used book store.

So Many Books, So Little Time: A Year of Passionate Reading, Sara Nelson. Another library bookstore purchase, this chronicles a year in Nelson’s life when she determines to read a book a week and record how reading intermingles with life in the “real world.” 

Book Lust: Recommended Reading for Every Mood, Moment, and Reason and Book Lust to Go: Recommended Reading for Travelers,Vagabonds, and Dreamers, Nancy Pearl. Pearl is an author, book reviewer and public librarian. Her lists of books, with short descriptions and critiques, are great fun. Read with caution unless you want your TBR list to explode beyond all reason. It’s too late for me. Save yourself.

The following books are on my TBR list:

Reading in Bed: Personal Essays on the Glories of Reading, Steven Gilbar. I haven’t gotten to this one yet, but plan to read it this year as part of my Mt. TBR challenge.

Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and For Those Who Want to Write Them, Francine Prose. Another book I haven’t read yet, this one is close to the top of my what-to-read-next list because I want to be both a better reader and writer.

A History of Reading, Alberto Manguel. “Manguel brilliantly covers reading as seduction, as rebellion, and as obsession and goes on to trace the quirky and fascinating history of the reader’s progress from clay tablet to scroll, codex to CD-ROM,” according to Amazon.

The Novel Cure, Ella Berthoud and Susan Elderkin.   I know I’ll end up with another long list of books I want to read when I get around to this one, but I still want to read it.

Bound to Last: 30 Writers on Their Most Cherished Book, Sean Manning (editor). 

My Reading Life, Pat Conroy. 

Tolstoy and the Purple Chair: My Year of Magical Reading, Nina Sankovitch. 

Rereadings: Seventeen Writers Revisit Books They Love, Anne Fadiman (editor). Similar to Bound to Last, perhaps, but I want to read this nonetheless.

And, scariest of all to the TBR list, 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die, Peter Boxall (editor).

Today is Tank’s 20^th birthday! In just a week and a half, I will have owned him for 11 years—longer than anyone before me. He is truly “mine” and I am the richer for it.

We rode together yesterday, all by ourselves, while the wind shook the trees and rolled a blue beach ball around the jump field, while a neighbor helped our barn owner move some large items with a piece of heavy equipment. Any one of those situations would have been a recipe for spooking and running when I first got Tank. Yesterday, he didn’t even bat an eyelash. I guess we’ve both matured in the past 11 years.

This quote sums up for me the miracle of a relationship with a horse:

“Riding is a partnership. The horse lends you his strength, speed and grace, which are greater than yours. For your part, you give him your guidance, intelligence and understanding, which are greater than his. Together, you can achieve a richness that alone neither can.” –Lucy Rees, “The Horse’s Mind.”

Thank you, Tank, for 11 years of simple pleasures and everyday adventures. Your birthday “cake” is on its way!

I found the second reference in this piece, written by Amanda Stuermer, on Jennifer Louden’s blog (emphasis hers): “I believe we choose the direction of our days, and that choice begins with our first waking thoughts. If I wake up worrying how I will ever get my to-do list done, I will feel rushed and pressured the whole day through. My words, actions, and habits will reflect that sense of anxiety. If instead, I wake up grateful for the opportunity to pursue my passions, I will feel inspired and my words, actions, and habits will reflect that. I would so much rather that my character and my destiny be guided by inspiration than anxiety.”  

We can also use the rhythms of the day to infuse inspiration into our lives. Rather than check email or social media (or, even worse, the news), begin the day with something that lifts us up, such as music, inspirational reading, meditation, a walk, or a few yoga poses. When we take a break during the day (and you are taking breaks, right?), use that time for further inspiration—flip through a magazine with beautiful images, get out in nature if possible. Even five minutes away from “to do” will help. At bedtime, we can turn off all our screens and end the day with the practice of writing down good things that have happened or what we are grateful for. Keeping our minds constantly tuned to what inspires us will help us through times of stress, struggle and change.

Inspiration looks different for everyone. Some of my sources of inspiration include the “Acoustic New Age” radio station on Pandora; my Pinterest boards Truth, Beautiful, and Isn’t That Cool?; blogs like Zen Habits , and inspirational speakers like Brendon Burchard.

I just came across the following idea in Chellie Campbell’s The Wealthy Spirit: Children have “I can hardly waits” while adults mostly have “I can hardly stand its.” Children are usually looking forward to something—school being out, a birthday, an exciting milestone. While adults, well, we are more often NOT looking forward to something—often those same somethings the kids are looking forward to!

I don’t know about you, but I thought being an adult would be more fun. Instead, I’m having my roof replaced, having the leaky dishwasher fixed and fighting the traffic while the county repaves the road that runs just outside my subdivision.  Fortunately, I’ve just remembered that I am the boss of me—and it’s time to follow Campbell’s advice to those of us with “I can’t stand its”: “Find something to look forward to with joy and focus on that.” 

But what if there’s nothing we especially look forward to? It’s time to schedule something! Maybe plan a summer trip, or buy tickets to a show or sporting event we want to see. If that’s not possible (and even when it is), schedule something smaller in the meantime. Plan to rent a movie and eat popcorn on Friday night with your spouse. Make a lunch date with a friend. Decide that at 8:30 tonight, you’ll curl up in bed with a good book. Just choose something you’ll enjoy and look forward to. Write these anticipated pleasures down in your calendar or on your to-do list.

I’m willing to bet you’re all fine, upstanding, law-abiding, tax-paying individuals. You give to those around you—now give to yourself. Give yourself something to look forward to. Simple pleasures and everyday adventures don’t plan themselves, you know. As for me, I’m looking forward to a visit from my two sisters-in-law, a Field Trip Friday involving a flea market, and a production of Annie at the local performing arts center. 

Introduction by Ted Kooser: Stories read to us as children can stay with us all our lives. Robert McCloskey’s Lentil was especially influential for me, and other books have helped to shape you. Here’s Matt Mason, who lives in Omaha, with a book that many of you will remember.

The Story of Ferdinand the Bull

Dad would come home after too long at work

and I’d sit on his lap to hear

the story of Ferdinand the Bull; every night,

me handing him the red book until I knew

every word, couldn’t read,

just recite along with drawings

of a gentle bull, frustrated matadors,

the all-important bee, and flowers—

flowers in meadows and flowers

thrown by the Spanish ladies.

Its lesson, really,

about not being what you’re born into

but what you’re born to be,

even if that means

not caring about the capes they wave in your face

or the spears they cut into your shoulders.

And Dad, wonderful Dad, came home

after too long at work

and read to me

the same story every night

until I knew every word, couldn’t read,

                                                                                                  just recite.

Saturday I completed my 31 Days of Sketching challenge—and I’m proud to say I didn’t miss a day! On most days I spent at least 15 minutes sketching and/or painting, and there were only a couple of days that I scraped together a few minutes and a few pencil strokes just so I could say I’d sketched. Winter Interrupted came at a good time and helped me add watercolor sketches to my sketchbook. I posted all my sketches on Flickr. (Belle of Belle, Book, and Candle took up the challenge as well, and you can see her sketches here.)

I wanted to become more comfortable sketching, and to make it more a part of my life instead of just done every now and then. I’m still not as comfortable as I’d like, and I did find that I didn’t experiment as much as I would have if I weren’t posting my sketches publicly.  Of course, I could have chosen not to post, but that felt like cheating. This tells me that I still care too much what others think. I don’t like to share my mistakes or what I think will be perceived as not very good. I will continue sketching, though probably not every day. I have several ideas for more sketchbook pages from Winter Interrupted, as well as (ahem) pages I want to complete from our New England trip a year and a half ago.

The month-long challenge seems to work well for me. It’s both finite and concrete; long enough to see progress, but short enough not to be overwhelming or boring. These challenges keep me focused when my natural tendency is to be easily distracted by new and shiny ideas or projects. So what’s next? I’m leaning towards a horsemanship challenge for the month of February. I’m off to a poor start because I did nothing horse-related yesterday—but I could still pick it up today. Do I need that concrete, I-will-do-this-every-day structure? I suspect yes. I could easily do a horsey thing every day, whether it’s play with Tank, finally watch the horsemanship DVDs gathering dust in my bedroom, or delve into the books, articles and internet research on horse topics that I seldom seem to have time to get into. There is tack to clean, or ground work exercises to try, and, of course, February is a lovely month for riding. I’d love to see my riding and horsemanship skills take a big leap forward.

I’ve had mixed success with the word of the year concept. While I’ve learned from and tried to permanently incorporate the connotations of my previous words of the year (open, light, passion, and the “secret” word I never wrote about in 2014, brave), I have not always felt that I fully embraced the concept. I tend to set a word of the year and mostly forget it, rather than draw on it for inspiration and guidance throughout the year.

In contemplating this situation, I realized that previous words had something in common: they were ways in which I wanted to change myself. And while self-improvement and change are good, and I’m certainly not saying I don’t need to continue to change and grow, I am, frankly, tired. In 2015, I need less struggle and more flow. Just for a little while, I want to leave myself alone and become more accepting of who I am right now.

So this year’s word of the year is…

—drumroll—

Delight.

Delight does not require that I struggle to be something I’m not. I don’t have to strive for it. I just have to pay attention to the delight that already exists in my life, and to actively seek delight in all that I do. Delight gives me permission to enjoy life, to turn my attention onto what’s going well rather than focus on what I want to be different. With delight to guide me, I’ll be more likely to say yes to what sounds fun, as well as look for the pleasure in all the everyday tasks and responsibilities I have.

I don’t have to look far to find things that delight me: my wonderful animals, a stack of books to read, blooming orchids, a good cup of coffee, the jumble of art supplies stacked in my office. I’m easy to please, and choosing delight as word of the year seems like something to look forward to!

I’ve read that we attract what we focus on. I’m eager to see just how much delight I can draw into my life in 2015. I’ll keep you posted.

What delights you? Have you chosen a word of the year? Do share.

Friday I returned from Laure Ferlita’s artist’s beach holiday, Winter Interrupted. Along with a suitcase full of dirty laundry and sand in my shoes, I came home with new friends, new sketches and great memories. Eight of us spent four days sharpening our sketching-on-location skills at various places in the St. Petersburg, FL, area. Each day we had a new destination: John’s Pass, Clearwater Marine Aquarium, the beach itself, and Sunken Gardens. Laure offered instruction and demos, then turned us loose to sketch. Most of us had never met in person, but had taken online classes together and/or connected through our private class blog. It didn’t take us long to bond, and we ended up spending a good deal of our free time together, too.

Some general observations on this adventure:

Sharing benefits everyone. One of my favorite things was when we shared our sketchbooks after each session. Each person’s take was different—even when two people sketched the same thing, the results were different—the hand of the artist in action. One day we also shared all the items in our sketching kits—so much fun to see each person’s favorite pencil/pen/sketchbook/palette, and we all jotted down tools we want to get our hands on.

“Bad sketching days” happen. I had one when I felt overwhelmed and just “off.” I didn’t like any of my sketches, but I made myself sketch anyway. The next day was better, and I can always go back and sketch from photos if I want a better representation of what we saw that day.

I love sketching palm trees! I added them to several pages, even when they weren’t part of the lesson.

Palm tree practice--my favorite is the one in the middle

Sketching in ink can be fun. My mechanical pencil ran out of lead at Sunken Gardens and I was forced to sketch with a pen—something Laure encourages but I hadn’t yet tried this trip. I’m not confident in my drawing skills and the pencil served as a security blanket. And you know what? I had the most fun sketching that day, and that page is my favorite page from the trip. (I can hear Laure laughing from across town.)

Art instruction is great, but being inspired by fellow artists is even better. Each woman on the trip had something besides her art to bring to the group. I came away energized and eager to make my life even better than it already is. Getaways like this help us to pay more attention to our own wants and needs, and to open up to new people in a way we wouldn’t during our normal, everyday interactions with others. (Thank you Laure, Cheryl, Claire, Clare, Patti, Susan and Terry!)

I’m still working on my pages—and will be for a while—so I can draw out the pleasure of the experience. I’m grateful to have had the chance to escape my everyday routine and add some art adventure to my life!

When was your last getaway? Are you planning one soon?

Introduction by Ted Kooser: During our more than four years of publishing this column we’ve shown you a number of poems about motherhood. Here’s another, beautifully observed by Liz Rosenberg, who lives in New York State.

I Leave Her Weeping

I leave her weeping in her barred little bed,

her warm hand clutching at my hand,

but she doesn’t want a kiss, or to hug the dog goodnight—

she keeps crying mommy, uhhh, mommy,

with her lovely crumpled face

like a golden piece of paper I am throwing away.

We have been playing for hours,

and now we need to stop, and she does not want

to. She is counting on me to lower the boom

that is her heavy body, and settle her down.

I rub her ribcage, I arrange the blankets around her hips.

Downstairs are lethal phonecalls I have to answer.

Friends

dying, I need to call.

My daughter may be weeping all my tears,

I only know

that even this young

and lying on her side,

her head uplifted like a cupped tulip,

sometimes she needs to cry.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2009 by Liz Rosenberg, whose most recent book of poetry is “Demon Love,” Mammoth Press, 2009. Poem reprinted from “Paterson Literary Review,” Issue 37/2009-2010, by permission of Liz Rosenberg and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2010 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

I had a thoughtful blog post planned for today, full of encouragement and wisdom (har), but due to circumstances being what they were, I did not finish it. Instead of giving you nothing (don’t thank me), here is what my day was like:

As I was sitting in my office this morning (which doubles as Prudy’s bedroom at night), I notice something suspicious in her water dish. It was a mouse.

More specifically, my wireless computer mouse.

I snatch it out of the water, remove the batteries, and toss it in the trash thinking it can’t possibly work. On reflection, however, I pull it out of the trash, dry it thoroughly and replace the batteries, thinking just maybe it might still function. Lo and behold, it does! Sort of. Perhaps I can muddle through the day if I am careful. I can always borrow a mouse from my husband if my newly dried off mouse fails me—which it does almost immediately. I can click on things, but if I try to scroll, the screen leaps and stutters until I pull the batteries out of the mouse again. OK then. Borrowed mouse it is. Let’s get back to today’s blog post…

But wait! You say you want to type? No, no, no, no, no. Whether the keyboard decides to take a break, walk off the job in sympathy with the mouse, or just simply make my life difficult, suddenly it doesn’t work. I try rebooting. Nothing doing. Into my husband’s office I go, to use his computer to look up “keyboard won’t work.” I find a solution on a Dell forum that works. Back in business. OK, about that blog post…

[Short interlude in which I eat lunch.]

OK, then, let’s put some nice, soothing music on Pandora for inspiration. Hmmm. I don’t hear anything. What gives? Do my external speakers work? Yes. How about iTunes? Yup. OK, look up “sounds don’t play on web pages.” Try a bunch of things, including clearing my cache and cookies (which means I now have to sign in to everything again). Nothing. OK, I guess I can listen to iTunes—BUT WAIT—now iTunes doesn’t work, either. (Pity poor Laure Ferlita who was getting a blow-by-blow recounting of all this.) I wonder if the laptop has sound and the problem lies between it and the external speakers? Pull the laptop out (it lives on a shelf under my desk and I use a docking station to connect it to an external keyboard and monitor) and find that no, it doesn’t have sound.

No, I do not curse.

I give up. Stare pitifully at my paper. Twiddle my pen. Can’t think of anything to write. Click sadly over to YouTube to look longingly at some silent videos.

And suddenly

A miracle.

Sound.

Don’t know how, don’t know why.

Beautiful sound.

But now it’s 4:30 and I’m cranky. Decide the encouraging and wise (har) blog post will have to wait for a day when I feel encouraging and wise.

Moral of the story? Some days are irritating and unproductive. Some days expose your weaknesses. You just have to put up with them, do your best to get through them, and hope the next day proves to be better.

“There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy. By being happy we sow anonymous benefits upon the world.”
—Robert Louis Stevenson

Chocolate makes me happy.

I’ve been so busy with this and that I feel like I’ve been neglecting this blog. Along with my normal, day-to-day stuff, here’s a little bit of what’s been going on:

Tank is lame and I don’t know why. Later today I have an appointment with the farrier to rule out hoof issues. Our current thought is he’s pulled a muscle. If that’s the case, there’s nothing to do but take him for gentle walks and let it heal.

I’m sketching every day. You can see my sketches on Flickr, but I assure you they’re nothing to make a special trip to see. It’s more about establishing a sketching habit, brushing up and improving my sketching skills and getting over “fear of the blank page.” I’m posting them to keep myself honest. Belle, from Belle, Book and Candle, is sketching with me, and you can see her sketches here. 

I’m helping Laure Ferlita wrap up details for Winter Interrupted: An Artist’s Beach Holiday that will take place Jan. 18-22. (Another good reason to get back in the habit of sketching!) 

And, of course, I’m reading—library books mostly, and nothing towards any of my reading challenge goals. Oops.

So what’s new with you?

Introduction by Ted Kooser: Mark Sanders, who lives in Texas, is not only a good poet, but he’s an old friend to the poetry of my home ground, working hard as teacher, editor, and publisher to bring Great Plains poetry to the attention of readers across the country. Here’s an example of one of his poems.

The Cranes, Texas January 

I call my wife outdoors to have her listen,

to turn her ears upward, beyond the cloud-veiled

sky where the moon dances thin light,

to tell her, “Don’t hear the cars on the freeway—

it’s not the truck-rumble. It is and is not

the sirens.” She stands there, on deck

a rocking boat, wanting to please the captain

Her eyes, so blue the day sky is envious,

fix blackly on me, her mouth poised on question

like a stone. But, she hears, after all.

                                                                  January on the Gulf,

warm wind washing over us,

we stand chilled in the winter of those voices.

With the turning of the year, many of us become more contemplative. We think about the past year, the future, and what we want more or less of in the coming months. Here is a collection of end-/beginning-of-the-year links I found inspiring and helpful, and that you might enjoy also:

Playing off the 12 days of Christmas idea, Laura Vanderkam has come up with “12 Days to a Happier, More Productive You.” 

Sandra at Always Well Within  has prepared a couple of free downloads here: A time-tracking log as well as a worksheet to help you review the past year.

36 Prompts to Help You Plan an Awesome 2015 from Daring to Live Fully. 

Just in case you’re overwhelmed by “have an amazing year” cheerleading, remember that “life isn’t a tidy upward achievement narrative,”—and that’s OK.

How to say No graciously—an important skill we all need. 

Disconnect, do less and be more successful!

And on a lighter note, the folks at Smartpak (no affiliation) have made a series of funny videos with the theme “If horses were people.” Here is a recent one, about blanketing, that made me laugh. (The farrier one is hilarious, too.)