Merry scribbler. Monsters rescued; knights slain.

Category: quote

What lies behind you and what lies in front of you, pales in comparison to what lies inside of you. - Henry Stanley Haskins

Apparently, this is regularly misattributed to Emerson.

I’m feeling overwhelmed by the lack of hours in the day and the number of things I feel like I need to do. I’m just trying to hold on to the meaning in this quote and feel it: that there’s really something inside me that’s really got what it takes to overcome my challenges.

Pictured: a field split between green and purple with a knight in the lower left corner and a dragon in the upper right corner. Between them are the words "We're our own dragons and our own Heroes, and we have to rescue ourselves from ourselves. Tom Robbins."

Playing with the horizon line within the square. The quote is one of my favorites. It reminds me that I’m my own worst enemy, but I’m also my best protector. I burn myself and my work down more effectively than anyone else can, but I can take control of my thoughts and actions to build myself up, too.

MAJ: Wow. Our backyard looks creepy.
Me: Yes. Yes, it does.

This is what my back horizon looks like now. Without the leaves, it’s easier to see the sheer devastation.

I know the city has sent people to evaluate cleaning up the debris in the flood plain, but other areas have higher priority.

If nothing else, it’s good for giving me decidedly creepy inspiration.

Pictured: a gray-green sky past a distroyed railing, several wind damaged garden structures, and dozens of downed trees within and past the fence line and the text: The cloud never comes from the quarter of the horizon from which we watch for it. Elizabeth Gaskell.

I’d been expecting that Covid-19 would be the thing that waylaid our home and changed my horizon in 2020. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I had 15 minutes of warning before the derecho hit Cedar Rapids, Iowa on August 10, 2020, just enough time to call the dog-walker and let her know: bring the doggo home and go get hunkered down yourself.

I took this from my back deck as the winds were dying down. The branch showing in the foreground on the right of the picture came from the 40+-year-old ash tree, the trunk of which should have been blocking my view from that angle.

I still cringe when the winds start to howl, can still hear the crack of its rootball breaking, sharp and clear like a bat against the horsehide of a softball you didn’t expect to hit.

My roof was finally fixed in November. The deck repairs have to wait until the spring. Too many other people needed new roofs. There simply weren’t hands available

I can see all the way across the wooded area behind my house now, a green space defined by where Dry Creek flooded in 2008 on its 1000 year flood plain and a safety margin beyond where no one may build. I can see apartments I knew were there but were hidden by trees. My horizon has been expanded at the cost of the trees and I’m not comfortable with the view.

I’m learning to live with discomfort for the sake of expanding my horizons.

Pictured: stormy skies over the ocean on a black lava beach that goes nearly to the horizon line with the text: No matter how far a person can go, the horizon is still way beyond you. Zora Neale Hurston

I took this picture in Hawaii, on our first and last trip of the year. It was March and the first news of Covid-19, the novel coronavirus, was still sketchy at best. My gut said “stay home,” but as a group, we decided to go with whatever the travel recommendations were from the CDC.

I was the one tasked with doing the checking because I was the one most concerned. When I checked the CDC website, there weren’t any travel restrictions or recommendations unless travelers were heading to China. Those restrictions started coming the day after we landed.

We spent the whole trip with our planned activities either closing on the say we planned to do them, or the site planning to close the day after we visited — like it was chasing us. Only being with good friends made any of it tolerable. The things we didn’t know then.

The rest of the year felt the same way: Like we just needed to get over the horizon and we’d be safe. Just get back to the hotel. Just get through LAX. Just get home. Once we’re there, everything will be fine and then we could go back to normal.

That’s not what happened, though. By the time we got home, new challenges were navigating a world with masks, social distancing, essential workers, and Zoom meetings, to add to the challenges that already existed (some of which I had the privilege of never having to experience personally, like systemic racism, but other familiar ones, too, like our fractious society in general.)

Last year, it became evidently clear that the horizon is a moving target. By the time you’re to the point where you thought the horizon was, your perspective has changed. The next mark is set, but the goal of going “beyond” can never be attained.

Nothing can wait until we get around the next bend or over the horizon. The best anyone can do is adapt, keep moving, and make time for the things we want right now, however doing them in this present moment looks.

Horizon 1

A picture of the Grand Canyon cloaked in morning fog, with the text "If you are depressed, you are living in the past. If you are anxious you are living in the future. You find peace when you live in the present. - unknown"

The Creative Every Day challenge theme for January is “Horizon.” I’m starting small, working from my collection of travel photos. This one is from my first trip to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. I think about the view from there often.

The quote got me through 2020 when little else worked. I missed being able to go places and do things with friends, but I’ve put the time into useful introspection about how I want to shape what I put into the world going forward.

Whatever else 2021 brings, I hope it brings physical, mental, and societal healing.

About Time

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it trying to live someone else's life." -- Steve Jobs, text on a purple background.

For 2021, my word of the year is Creativity.

I’m giving my blog a brand new start for 2021. After two years without blogging, or really much in the way of art at all, I find I miss this outlet.

For years I’ve tried to live the role I’ve found myself in as I’ve gotten older and I keep trying to push myself in to fit the mold, but I don’t fit. It feels like living someone else’s life. I feel angry. I’m not happy. I’m not even content.

I’m wasting my time on things that don’t mean anything and don’t make the world a better place. It’s taken some reflection, but I know why: I need to create to feel alive.

It’s about time I figured that out. I’ve spent the last two weeks writing and I have felt the best I’ve felt in ages. I don’t want to lose that feeling, so I’m working on a plan to build my art into my life. I’m going to actively work to be creative every day, to spark my creativity, and to write for publication beyond this blog. I’m planning to join the Creative Every Day Challenge for 2021 as a way to challenge myself to keep up a daily creative practice.

Beyond that, I’m leaving things flexible.

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