Monday, March 17, 2014

Using pen and paper, write down three goals.  Use full
sentences, for example: This week I will
train a lion. 

Now, write down three things you have on your calendar
tomorrow—doctor’s appointment, a trip to the bank, grocery shopping, whatever.  Again,
be sure and use full sentences.  Example: Tomorrow
I will catch the train to Walla Walla. 

DO NOT READ AHEAD UNTIL YOU HAVE WRITTEN YOUR GOALS AND TASKS! 

Now carefully consider the difference in your handwriting. 
Notice anything?  Are there spaces between the words of your goals?  Did you know
that you can tell if someone is lying by their hesitations?  According to
professional handwriting analysts, the same hiccoughs happen when we write.  If
you’re lying to yourself, your subconscious knows it and your words will have extra
spaces.  For example: This week I will
train a lion. 
As opposed to: Tomorrow I will catch
the train to Walla Walla. 

Did the experiment work for you?  It totally worked for me. 
Consider this when making goal, make your goals absolutely realistic—things you
know you should do, but, for whatever
reason, you aren’t, and things you know you can do. 

Years ago my sisters and I attended Education Week at BYU. 
(If you don’t know what that is,click here).  Each morning, we would coordinate
which classes we wanted to attend and when we would meet for lunch.  Sometimes
our schedules matched and sometimes they didn’t and that was okay. 

On a whim, I decided to ditch one class and attend another.  According
to the schedule, the class was based on the Old Testament scripture, Jeremiah
1:5

Before I formed thee
in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I
sanctified thee. 

(Want to know why I was taking this class?  Because I thought
it would be relevant to my current work in progress, Beyond the Pale.  I was
wrong. ) 

It was held in the Marriott Center—a conference center with 22,000
seats.  I walked in and found my sister sitting directly in front of me.  Neither
of us had intended to take this class, and it was surprising to find her so
easily in such large building filled with thousands of people. 

Turns out, the class had little to do with what we had thought
and everything to do with the dangers of perfectionism.  As we left the
building, my sister and I both commented on how disappointed we were in the
class as neither of us considered perfectionism something that we struggled
with.  Just then a very large, noisy bus rumbled by.  Plastered on its side were
the words “Perfectionism: are you ready?” 
(It was an ad for a housing
development.)  My sister looked at me and said, “I think someone is trying to
tell us something.” 

It made me reconsider perfectionism and the way it may be
holding me back. 

I love this poem by Shell Silverstein.  It’s called the Little Blue Engine

The little blue engine looked up at the hill. 

His light was weak, his whistle was shrill. 

He was tired and small, and the hill was tall,

And his face blushed red as he softly said,

“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.” 

So he started up with a chug and a strain,

And he puffed and pulled with might and main. 

And slowly he climbed, a foot at a time,

And his engine coughed as he whispered soft,

“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.” 

With a squeak and a creak and a toot and a sigh,

With an extra hope and an extra try,

He would not stop — now he neared the top —

And strong and proud he cried out loud,

“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!” 

He was almost there, when — CRASH!  SMASH!  BASH! 

He slid down and mashed into engine hash

On the rocks below… which goes to show

If the track is tough and the hill is rough,

THINKING you can just ain’t enough! 

Shel Silverstein. 

It’s important to try.  Growth requires stumbling, falling,
and getting back up again.  To be successful, we need to be patient with
ourselves, our blunders and our weaknesses. 
We need to remember to counsel with the Lord and not to take counsel
from our fears.  It’s okay to make mistakes.  It’s okay to be weak. 

Consider a candle, even the brightest flames flicker.  We never know how brightly another’s flame can burn or what
darkness they are trying to overcome, and I love that we don’t need to know. 
All we need to do is do our best to shine as
brightly as we can. 

Monday, March 3, 2014

When I was 12 I faced a dilemma.  For years I LOVED—read and
reread— the Little House on the Prairie series by Laura Ingalls Wilder.  And in my twelfth year the book series was
going to become a television series!  And here’s the problem—the television show
conflicted with our Wednesday night church activity.  I had to choose, Little
House on the Prairie or church. 

To be honest, my parents made that decision for me and I
went to church.  Looking back, it was a silly dilemma, but it was
wrenching at the time.  How could I know that for many LOOOONNNGGG years later I
could watch my fill of Little House on the Prairie reruns?  How could I know
that in just three years at age 15 I would consider the TV series hokey and
trite?  How could a television show even compare to the experiences and
relationship I shared with the young women at church? 

A realization came to me yesterday while I was at church. ( Yes,
I still go, even though my mom, the driving force behind my choice between
Little House and church, is gone.)  Someday, maybe 40 years from now, will I look back at all my book-selling angst with same kind of head-shaking wonder as
I now have for my Little House on the Prairie vs. church dilemma?  Will I wonder
why I watched my books’ rankings rise and fall so often and why I cared so very
much?  Will I remember the poor reviews and wonder why I let them hurt me? 

This poem by William Martin is real life. 

And this poem by e.e.  cummings is real love and death.  And in
the end, I don’t think anything else really matters.  We live, we love and we
die.  And if we happen to watch a TV show or sell a few books along the way—that’s
nice—but it’s not why we live.  We live to love and be loved.  Period (or if you
happen to e.e.—then no periods at all). 

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did
Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain
children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more
when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was
all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes. 
Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain