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Learn it, The Artist's Way

20 Goals for 2020

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Sure, it may be cheesy.

It may be cliche.

BUT who can resist a good numbers game as we kick off a new decade?

And so, here I am, finally back into the writing groove and ready to set some goals, because next to godliness and cleanliness–goal-setting should always be a top priority.

Photo by Estée Janssens on Unsplash

Goal 1: Write More

I didn’t list these in any particular order, but I wanted to start with writing, because, let’s face it–that is what this blog is all about. I’ve always loved writing, but when I first started this journey, one of the main things I learned is that writers don’t just write when it is convenient, but they make it a priority. I have not been making it much of a priority lately–there are other things going on and I just kind of push the writing off to the side. I realized recently what a terrible idea that is, because writing is how I process and release. The other day I couldn’t figure out why the past couple of years have felt like such a backslide in personal growth–then it struck me: duh! You aren’t doing what you love, what comes as naturally as breathing, what helps you make sense of the world and express the emotions that you often find so overwhelming that you shut down, you turtle into something nearly unrecognizable as you shut people out. So I need to stop making excuses and make a concentrated effort to write more.

I know, that’s vague, so the next few goals are really kind of subgoals for this one.

Goal 2 (or 1a): Do Your Morning Pages

A few years ago, I read The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron with a group of writer friends. It really opened up some passionate ideas and projects, so I’m going to rewind and go through this again (I did some posts about it on here too #TheArtist’sWay). I cram a lot into my mornings as it is, but this was always a successful way to start the day–not exactly journaling, but just getting thoughts and ideas on paper. I’ve never been a good journaler, but filling up notebooks with ideas was a useful way to start my mornings back in my writing prime, so I want to get back to that.

Goal 3 (or 1b): Set aside a least 15 minutes per day for writing

Sometimes I complain that I don’t have time for anything, and then I realize I spent time on an electronic device, or staring at the TV that I could have easily spent on something more productive; again that is cliche. I don’t love how much screen time I use–my excuse has always been that I am so tired of thinking by the end of the day I need something mindless to relax. On some level, that’s still true. On another, it is just an excuse for laziness. And that’s not okay. Especially when I have such big goals that have yet to be accomplished.

Goal 4 (or 1c): Finish What You Started

At the moment I have 3 books completely written, but I haven’t taken the time to gut and edit them–or I’ve been putting it off–or I’ve been busy and overwhelmed with other things in life. But now is the time to finish what I have started and stop with all the meh.

Goal 5 (or 1d): Find your Niche

I moved to SC a few years ago and it was absolutely the right move, but I miss the writing community I had when I lived in NC. I’ve tried a couple of different things here, but I haven’t been able to find the right fit yet. So, I’m going to make a concentrated effort to find that community again.

Goal 6 (or 1e): Don’t abandon the blog

Blogging is not my passion, but I think the public sharing of my writing is kind of an important step that I took a few years ago, so I want to keep maintaining it. Sometimes, as you know, I will go months without posting. Not on purpose, but just because, you know, life. Putting it on the priority list, will help me ensure it doesn’t fall by the wayside. I hope.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Goal 7: Read More

I read a lot. Trust me, I do. But this can always be a goal for me, because even when I read a lot, I can always make time to read more–or maybe what I really mean is to read more diverse things. I read a lot of fiction. I need to balance that with a healthy dose of non fiction and books I might not have chosen for myself, but that open up something new for me to learn.

Goal 8 (or 7a): Read at least 75 books (Goodreads)

Last year the goal was 60–so I’m upping the ante…

Goal 9 (or 7b): Of the 75 books at least 25 will be non fiction

That sounds pretty silly, but that’s saying a lot for me, so it’s attainable, but challenging.

Goal 10 (or 7c): Write reviews for at lest 50% of the books I read

Sometimes, I’m re-reading so the 50% accounts for that, and also for the times I read series and have pretty much the same thing to say for each of the books and don’t want to be redundant.

Photo by Christin Hume on Unsplash

Goal 11: Monitor Emotional Health

I bought a mood journal, and it was a good move. It’s a planner, but it always asks great reflective questions at the end of the week that help me focus on the good and process the bad. I know, at 34 you’d think I’d have this all figured out, but I’m a work in progress. So yeah.

Goal 12: Be Ready for God to Move

God is mighty and powerful. Sometimes though I underestimate just how powerful He is. That is dangerous. So, for my 2020 word, I chose (with a little prompting from the Holy Spirit) a Hebrew word: Hinneni. This roughly translates to Here I am or I am Ready, but the connotations take it further and deeper–it requires an enriching trust, a bond between father and child. This is what I want to build this year on.

Goal 13 (or 9a): Seek after God by spending more time in His Word

I think the Bible is beautiful. In addition to a weekly Bible study and morning quiet times, I want to seek to organize what I learn in new ways, which interestingly enough helps with goals 1 and 7 and even 8.

Goal 14 (or 9b): Don’t just say you are praying–spend more time in focused prayer.

One thing I know about relationships is they don’t grow unless you spend time conversing–and that requires a sacrifice. Those times when I feel like I need to escape into mindlessness are a great place to start.

Goal 15 (or 9c): Let go of the doubt, Embrace the promises

I have a hard time, sometimes, seeing past the tangible and trusting in the intangible. Especially if it isn’t the plan I expected or wanted. Those doubts can choke the life out of me. I need to make a concentrated effort everyday to choose what I will serve: doubt or truth.

Photo by Steve Halama on Unsplash

Goal 16: Drink more water

I know, health goals are cheesy. And honestly, I make this a goal most weeks–sometimes I stick to it; other times I don’t. But writing it down, that’s what helps make it more of a probability rather than an afterthought.

Goal 17: Move more

I’m constantly moving from about 8am to 3pm. After that I have no desire to move. That’s not very healthy, so I’m adding it to the goal. Yes, I know this is vague, but saying “I’ll exercise at least 30 minutes a day” is pretty unrealistic for me (I’m just being honest), so I’ll keep it vague and see where it goes–then if needed, the goal will be adjusted.

Goal 18: Eat more vegetables

Fruits are easy. Vegetables are hard. Enough said.

Goal 19: Take an “artist date” at least 6 times

This goes back to the book, The Artist’s Way. I used to do these all the time and had such fun, so I’m going to add those back to my goal list.

Goal 20: Seek out real connections, even when (or maybe especially when) it feels uncomfortable.

Social events make me anxious. Partly because I struggle so much with feeling unwanted–making small talk is so hard for me, and that is half of what a social event is all about. After I attempt it, and kind of fail, I feel an irrational sense of contempt from others, even though I know it is really just that annoying voice in my head that wishes I didn’t have any failings–but this is a big one. So the goal, even when I’m uncomfortable or worried about feeling unwanted or ‘weird’ or overlooked or whatever–I will still strive for those connections.

Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel on Unsplash

Your turn! What are some of your goals? List them in the comments! I love to learn from you

Learn it

Quit Fighting Battles that Aren’t Yours to Fight: Psalms 13-14

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Psalm 13-14
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How long will I wrestle with my thoughts?
I’ve always been my own worst enemy. Cliché, I know, but it’s true. Perhaps that is why I don’t like conflict with other people, because I have enough in my own mind that having it outside my head is just too overwhelming.
Each day we wake up to a spiritual battle field, an unseen war waging all around us. Some people are more in tune with it than others, and the only hope we have in in the triumph of God.
Last night I had a dream. It was so vivid I woke up, gasping at the reality of the imagery. I don’t think the dream is coming true, but there is prodigious truth in dreams regardless of their ‘coming true’ or not. I was swimming in a pool with a little girl, and it didn’t occur to me until after I woke up that this little girl looked remarkably like me as a child. Adult me and child me swimming together. Child me squealing in delight, adult me cautiously watching; ensuring that child me doesn’t drown. And then I look up. In the sky a rocket has just launched into space, but something went wrong and instead of heading into space, it’s heading straight for our pool.
Yes, I recognize the randomness of a rocket heading for a pool with two people swimming in it, but I step back from the literal and begin to think about it on other levels too. I don’t dare begin to interpret it, but just to think about how I reacted in the dream. I watched as this rocket came straight toward us, and I could have screamed, run, cried, or even cursed. I could have woken up. I didn’t do any of these things. I stared as the rocket came closer and thought, hm, this is not how I imagined meeting Jesus. Then I closed my eyes, grabbed the little girl and hugged her tight, and waited praying a simple prayer of: hold us in your arms, Jesus.
I don’t pretend like this is how I might actually act in this situation, but when I did wake up upon impact, I stared into the darkness of my bedroom and adjusted to the reality that I wasn’t actually dead.
I have spent most of my life wanting other people to accept me, seeking validation in what the world says I have to be or who I have to appear to be, but it is exhausting. I’ve spent this week rehashing through some wounds, curses, and influences and I’m ready to be free.
In Psalm 13, the author asks “How long will my enemy triumph over me?” and I realize that my own worst enemy is, well, me. How long will I let this war wage in me? When will I just grab my inner child, hold her to me, pray that simple prayer and let God have full control?
While Psalm 13 ends with trust, Psalm 14 starts with fools–The fool says in his heart there is no God. This juxtaposition shows the consequences of continuing in your foolish ways and not learning from the lessons God teaches.

The Lord looks down from heaven on the sons of men to see if there are any who understand, any who seek God. I don’t want him to find me wanting. I want him to be well pleased.

Questions to ponder:
1) What battles are you fighting that you can give over to the Lord?
2) How can you teach the lessons you have learned from God to the next generation?
3) Why is giving over control so hard?
Learn it

Stop Making Resolutions

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Going into the New Year most people take the time to reflect and review. “R”s that gain almost as much respect as Reading, ‘Riting and ‘Rithmatic (ironic, since upon reflection those famous ‘R’s aren’t actually ‘R’s at all…what do they teach in schools these days?). As a highly paid educator, I’ve found this time of year becomes quite valuable—if it is used wisely. Once upon a time, I spent the majority of the holiday rushing around, trying to do a lot which, quite frankly held very little value. I even wound up (gasp!) working over the holiday. So instead of returning to the second half of the school year refreshed—I returned more like pack animal, just piling on ‘one more thing’ so that by the time the end of the year rolled around in June I was ready to call it quits.

That’s not how I approach this time of year any more. It became too exhausting. My new approach—one of self-reflection and re-orientation, is liberating.

Some people make resolutions: pie-crust promises to themselves for improvement over the upcoming year. But before the end of January they’re typically off the treadmill and first in line at the Cinnabun stand just like they were the previous January. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love a good Cinnabun, and I have nothing against weight-loss goals. But a pie-crust promise, easily made is easily broken. So I don’t tie myself down with useless resolutions, but rather I set achievable, measurable goals for the upcoming year, that measure ways that I want to grow for the next five or ten years. I learned a very important lesson about myself in the past few years: I need to change. We all do. It’s part of the evolutionary process of life. Not Darwinism, but the adaptation necessary to survive. Species survive when they adapt and change. Humans are the same way. We don’t like change, but we need it. It’s the only way that we can become who we are created to be—living breathing CHANGING organisms. Making resolutions is admirable, but turning them into a goal-oriented, driven lifestyle full of ambition. That is productive.

During this process of change I’ve learned to do two things.

  • Write down my goals.
  • Find accountability.

Writing down your goals:

Writing down your goals may seem stupid, but there is something binding about having a written plan. Legal documents are written, witnessed, even notarized. Shouldn’t you take your future just as seriously? Don’t just say you want to lose weight, write this goal down and make it measurable and achievable.

Goal # 1: Over the course of the next three months I will lose 10 pounds by eating healthier and going to the gym at least three times a week.

Then you can map out your plan (If you need help, may I suggest Ruth Soukup’s blog, Living Well and Spending Less. She has some fabulous resources, including a free ebooklet about setting measurable goals.)

Finding Accountability

I’m single, so being held accountable for anything can get, well, difficult. But even if you are married, asking your spouse to keep you accountable for your goals can put a strain on your relationship (honey, does it look like my diet plan is working? Seems like a loaded question and a great way to set yourself up for a dishonest response or a fight). Accountability doesn’t have to be with someone you live with. In fact it is a great way to help build relationships, and there are many ways to be held accountable for your goals, but if you don’t have someone to hold you accountable—chances are you’ll begin to make excuses little by little until the goal seems less and less important.

If you’re a writer, try a critique group or a writing group in your area. If you’re looking to meet spiritual goals, find a small group to join (church is a great place to start, but small groups are where real relationships are built and where accountability happens).

Zig Ziglar said it best: “Lack of direction, not lack of time, is the real problem. We all have 24-hour days. “

Creating a plan, sticking to the plan and having accountability for that plan is how people accomplish great things. And how I plan out my new year.

Imagine what we could accomplish this year if we Taylor Swift the negatives and the bad attitudes and “Shake it Off”. What if we ALL pull a Frozen  on the bad habits and “Let it Go”. If each and every one of us determine to use the next 366 days (yes, it’s a leap year!) to accomplish something great, well we might just change the world.

Ashley M. Carmichael is the author of Valerie’s Vow published by Indigo Sea Press. She has a Bachelor’s in English from UNC-Wilmington and currently teaches 9th, 11th and 12th grade Language Arts. Ashley lives with her dog, Emma, near Columbia, South Carolina.

 

Live it

With your head in the Dryer…

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This week was kind of a disaster.

I dried a pen. Yes, you heard that right. I put a pen in the dryer (not on purpose, I’m not that dumb, people), but as you can imagine, the results were pretty horrendous).

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All that blue…yeah that’s the ink. It did eventually come out…but when your heads down in there you don’t think it ever will. Just ask my mom.

Then I walked into a painted doorway. Yes, you heard that right too. A painted doorway. Paint all down my arm. The doorway had no damage. My sweater on the other hand, DOA.

The printer at work decided to stop working, I was late to a meeting, I fell—twice (that’s not really uncommon, but it still sucked), and to be frank, I was tired all week long for no real reason.

And yet, I’m still alive. I have a great place to live. I’m healthy. I’m having brunch after church with my best friends. I had breakfast yesterday with my parents and grandparents (yes, my grandfather who had surgery just a couple of weeks ago on his stomach had breakfast with me yesterday morning!) and I still managed to write 13,000+ words in Clara’s Chance (and I’ll be a toothless monkey if I don’t hit 20,000 today by gum! I had an AWESOME dream last night!). Jimmy, my aloe plant, is even still alive and kicking and growing another little sprig!

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Jimmy and his new sprig–can you see it?

My point is this: Yes, some weeks seem to be mired in the dregs of disaster with your head stuck in a dryer scrubbing for hours (thanks Mom for helping out with that yesterday—she’s really the only reason I didn’t throw the whole thing out–yes I did consider this. I went through a whole lot of scrubbing before she fixed it. And that’s kind of what Moms do.), but your heads only in the dryer for so long. Once you pull it out, you realize how bright the world is outside and there is so much more to life than ink stains and scrubbing.

And that’s what we really have to live for.

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Mom, Dad and me at my book launch in August–heads out of the dryer (a picture of our heads in the dryer really wouldn’t have been very flattering)

 

 

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Maybe It’s Just Me…

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Maybe It’s Just Me

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inside restaurant Pan e Vino

Tick…Tick…Tick…Tock…My life clock continues louder with every little tick and each resounding tock it chimes and chirps wand each day rotates just a little bit fast.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” responds the girl in the salon. When did I become a “ma’am”?

I wonder…

Maybe it’s just me but…

I thought my life would be different. At sixteen I had a plan. I knew how my life would be at 28.

Maybe it’s just me but…

Everything seems so mundane, blasé, not at all what I had in mind.

Maybe it’s just me yet…

I know I am blessed beyond measure with beautiful people, meaningful work, and wonderful space.

Maybe it’s just me yet…

I am grateful, I should be grateful, I have forgotten how to be grateful. I am lost in a world of self-deprecation disguised as a sort of humility. I want to be proud. I want to own my pride. I don’t know where to begin.

Maybe it’s just me and then again, maybe it’s not.

 

These are just words, thoughts strung together as I reflect one Friday evening. I’m not even sure what form you’d call this. Maybe it’s verse, but I think it’s a kind of stream of consciousness. Really, it’s just me. Wondering. I’m not unhappy with my life. In fact most days I’m very content. But sometimes, especially recently I begin to wonder if maybe, just maybe I’m letting life pass me. And after I get done with all this wondering, I start to pray. My conversation with God is not exactly thrilling, it more just wondering about two little words: too late.

Are those not the most devastating combination of words? Too late—lost hope, dreams and future. They taste bitter on the tongue, as sour as the poison their power holds because once someone believes it is too late…

What is left to them?

That’s when God reminds me of Lazarus. (I started to say “I’m reminded of” then I realized it is no coincidence that this story launches into my brain).

The story is in John 11 and the NIV reads this way:

“Now a man named Lazarus was sick […] so the sisters sent word to Jesus. “Lord, the one you love is sick.” When he heard this, Jesus said, “This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.” […] he stayed where he was two more days.”

HE STAYED! He heard the news that his loved one is sick. Jesus knew what this meant, to the family. He knew what pain it would cause them. Agony, anguish, mental torment—not to mention what the physical illness did to Lazarus himself. It must have been painful to have ended in even a temporary death. And still, he didn’t go. He waited two days. Two of the longest days of his friends’ life (I’m sure they were no picnic for Jesus either).

Then the story continues with Jesus telling his disciples they are returning to Judea. His friends are worried because of the trouble brewing there, which makes me wonder if Mary, Martha and Lazarus didn’t question Jesus’ loyalty and love. I know I would have. Hardly able to understand why he didn’t come help their brother, they search for an explanation—even an irrational one. I imagine they might have thought that he cared for his own safety more than the well-being of their brother. Can you imagine the sick feeling of disappointed hopes and dreams? Maybe it’s just me…

Jesus tells his disciples they are going to see Lazarus who is dead and I love Thomas’ reply, but it is so sad. “Let us go that we may die with him.” Caustic, bitter, untrusting. Thomas doesn’t see the point in visiting the dead man. It’s too late. There are those words. It’s too late for him! Why put ourselves at risk?

When he finally arrives at Mary and Martha’s home, they greet him with the same response; although they greet him separately they are of the same mind. “If you had been here, Lord, my brother would not have died. “

You’re too late, God.

Ah, ye of little faith.

Too late, oh so devastating to us mortals—as Alexander Pope said “born but to die.” Of course we will lose our hope and our faith with those words.

Restoration comes from one place alone.

And it’s never too late for God.

We may not like his timing. We may not understand his timing. But He’s never too late.

“Lazarus ,come forth!”

How I want to be raised from the deadness of disappointed hope and resurrected into the life of gratitude each and every day.  But, maybe it’s just me…