It’s time for a cool change.
When I wrote overhead messages for companies in Chicago – pizza parlors, dental offices, bakeries – I’d rearrange my desk, once a month. I’d wipe it down with disinfectant wipes, switch decorations, and move my monitor. I sought a fresh start to every month.
I didn’t do away with pictures or trinkets.
I just moved them around. Gave my eyes new sightlines. I’ll do that with other things, including coaching, parenting, and blogging, right here. What could I do better? What can I give up? How will things look from here?
The A to Z Challenge in April allows me to gain a new perspective.
Last April, amid life-held happiness I’d never known, I simply wrote. No editing apps. No agonizing rewrites. I wrote, I posted, I read, I shared. I learned. Soaring high anyway, I let go of elements that weighed down my writing process.
My life process, since, took on a starboard torpedo.
The words came easily; then, they dried up. They opened some doors, yet caused others, important others, to become slammed shut. I folded my hands, I cleared my mind, and I wrote some more. Words for me usually come with cookie crumbs all over them.
So it was strange to find them doused with tears.
My theme for the 2016 A to Z Challenge: Renewal. Renewal isn’t an abandonment of what defined our former. It’s recognition of its good, it’s anticipation for tomorrow’s possibility and most importantly, the importance of what lies before us, in this very moment.
I want this renewal to build on the beauty of yesterday, not vanquish it.
Why amputate parts just for something new? I want the next step, not ground zero. Not square one. I’ve lived and loved and lost too much to toss it aside and ask for a fresh start. That would deny the lessons and experiences, wins and losses, I endured to get here.
We grow out of certain ideals, yes? Sometimes you’ll want to draw upon the details of your former self. What happens if you’ve wiped the disc clean?
It’s a reason I abhor New Year’s resolutions.
We take opportunities to start anew by tossing out our former ideals. We grow out of them, yes? Sometimes you’ll want to draw upon the details of your former self. What happens if you’ve wiped the disc clean? I’ll wear the lucky socks. I’ll believe in magic, instead.
I’ll write on the things closest to me.
I’ll try those tired and true (yes, tired) tricks to make my girls laugh, stuff they say got old “a long time ago, dad,” because what if they laugh? What if the socks work? What if magic happens, in ways I don’t even know yet?
These posts in April – they’re on topics I picked, sometimes years ago.
I want to go back and clean them up. Give them life. In the same sense, it’ll give me renewal, new old subjects toward which nature has certainly shifted my trajectory. Don’t worry, it’ll make sense. Thank you for becoming a part of the journey.