It may have been a short work week, but it has been a long and busy none the less. Lots of work, and more than a few late nights and early mornings have left my batteries low. During the week, I take a break every 52 minutes, but you can only sustain the pace for so long. What I need now is less work and more time doing nothing.
I have learned downtime is just as important as working hard. You know, work hard, play hard. It is time for a relaxing cup of tea, a blazing fire in the fire pit, a good book, and perhaps a nap. No, I am sure there will be a nap. Then I know I can return to my work and be productive.
Evening temperatures drop, and chilly air promises autumn is approaching. My neighbors ignite their firepit and raise a glass to toast the day. I light a candle to celebrate my favorite time of year. Candles have a soothing effect. Their yummy scents fill the house, calm my mind, and they make me smile.
With the requirements we wear masks when we can’t be physically distant, there is one thing I have missed — smiles. When you smile, the world smiles in return. A Swedish study revealed when test subjects were shown an image of a smiling person and the researcher asked them to frown, the subjects imitated the face in the photo, smiling instead of frowning. Your smile is contagious, and it changes everything.
A smile makes us more attractive, lift our mood and the moods of other people, and it extends our life expectancy. Yes. Smiling can actually help you live longer. And can we talk about the exceptional party a smile gets rolling? Smiling floods our brains with neuropeptides, dopamine, endorphins, and serotonin. Drugs, baby. They are all-natural, 100% organic, create no negative side effects, don’t require a doctor prescription or a dealer, — and wait for it — they are FREE.
Buddha was a smart man. By sharing a smile, you get tremendous benefits, and you can transmit happiness to random strangers. Chances are, they will smile at the next person they meet. These days I go out my way to substitute my unseeable, masked smile with other uplifting gestures, I give others the thumbs up, and I wave to everyone. My neighborhood walkers were initially suspicious, but they are now returning my visible greetings. And I can now detect a twinkle in their eyes. With any luck, a smile-chain may travel around the world today.
A red-tailed hawk visits my house. I often notice him soaring overhead on cloudless afternoons. I admired him as he catches air currents and drifts in slow circles. One day I arrived home to find him resting on my garage roof. I stepped from my car, and we regarded each other for a long time.
He has perched on the gas grill on the patio, in the maple tree outside my window, and the white fence post on the property line. Other days he does a fly-by, swooping past my windows to let me know he is watching. He is a very serious fellow, but I enjoy our talks. Our discussions are not lengthy, but nothing interrupts them. He occupies my undivided attention.
Writing is like speaking with the hawk. It consumes my thoughts. It demands focus and concentration, the ability to see the adventure as it stretches to the horizon, and each word that leads the reader down the chosen path. On bright afternoons the words slip from my mind, flowing through my fingers and onto the page. The story twists, turning in novel directions, the plot sucks me in until it is the only thing that matters. These are my favorite times.
I had an English teacher who taught grammar with song lyrics. She used printed copies and had the class parse the stanzas while the songs played in the classroom. Grammar was never my favorite subject, but identifying parts of speech to popular tunes was not unpleasant.
Many studies suggest listening to music aids divergent thinking. It is a technique that uses free-flowing thoughts to generate ideas and solutions in a short time. One study reported that replaying a song multiple times blocks mind wandering and increases focus. Other benefits include reducing stress, improving sleep, reducing symptoms of depression, and raising IQ and academic performance in young children.
With that impressive list, I figured it was worth doing a few experiments. So, I queued my playlists and hit repeat as I composed stories. The results surprised me. While not scientific, I noticed words and thoughts seem to flow better, social media is less distracting, and my productivity per session has increased. I have even experienced a phenomenon where the lyrics provided the exact word my mind is seeking.
While I’ve not determined if my stress levels are lower, the ability to get more accomplished in my scheduled writing sessions makes me a happy camper.
The weather is rainy, and the evening air is chilly. While the trees haven’t shed their chlorophyll to reveal their brilliant foliage, leaf-peeping people will soon busy. The other season harbinger has hit the streets – Pumpkin Spice Lattes.
They make me laugh since there is no pumpkin in Pumpkin Spice. They should correctly call it Spiced Coffee. The seasonal seasonings typically include cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, clove, and allspice, or some combination. The other trick they play to create an olfactory illusion is to mix in the aroma of a browning butter and sugar mixture.
It turns out that we learn to recognize odors through associations. The traditional spices used to highlight the taste of pumpkin pie form a link to our memories of warm cozy fires, gatherings of family and friends, and the bounty of an autumn harvest.
They say eighty percent of flavor is in the aroma. Maybe that is what I love about autumn, the perfume of leaves, a crackling fire, fresh-baked treats, spiced candles, and my morning cup of hot, black coffee. It must be time to enjoy a brisk walk and maybe a Pumpkin Spiced sugar cookie.
Do you gaze at our brilliant blue atmosphere as clouds drift by, and imagine pirate ships, cannon fire, and pirates swinging from the yardarm? Do you see creamy silver-lined bunnies chewing dandelions and carrot tops they pilfered from Mr. McGregor’s garden?
I spy an elephant ankle-deep in a river, using its trunk to splash water on its back. I have watched puffs of white cotton run from the approaching tempest and wondered if they found a place to hide. Or did the slate gray, rain-laden thunderheads swallow them whole?
The night sky conjures images of galaxies light-years away with extraterrestrials orbiting their planet. I wish upon the north star, plastered against velvety black heaven, and I wonder if someone in another universe is seeking confirmation from this same illumination. Are they alone, frightened, in need of a friend? It is human nature to chart the skies. Daytime clouds and nighttime stars demand answers to impossible questions. Energy crackles through the cosmos that sparks our imaginations and conjures fantastical explanations that change our world.
What worlds do you discover when you look upwards?
My childhood included a steady diet of fairy tales. I remember a thick volume of The Brothers Grimm Complete Fairy Tales Collection, and another of Aesop’s Fables. They fueled my love of reading and introduced me to the mystical power words possess to whisk me to fantastical, far-away lands. Devouring those books, I graduated to The Secret Garden, The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Hobbit. In high school, The Iliad and The Odyssey curated my foray into Greek Mythology, while The Once and Future King left me spellbound.
I am under no illusions that Prince Charming is racing to my rescue, and to this day, no magical forest animals have materialized to help clean the house or create a couture ballgown. The darker aspects of “Once upon a time,” is common adult knowledge. Yet, I search for not just one fantasy story, but an entire series. Fantasy offers a refuge from life’s stress, and they let me root for the hero and condemn the villain.
At their best, they explore real-life issues and provide a platform for discussions while they entertain. They offer universal lessons and make us reflect on ways to improve our world.
Labor Day Weekend has always been an annual pivotal marker. It delineates summer’s end, signals a return to school, and heralds shorter days and cooler nights. It reminds us we must return to the business of work… tomorrow. Traditionally, this weekend is a national tribute dedicated to the American worker’s achievements. We honor everyday men and women whose daily contributions enrich everyone’s lives. This Labor Day promises to be a tremendous departure from past festivities.
The traditional last splash at the water park isn’t possible when the attraction never opened. The backyard BBQ with lawn games, friends, and family will undergo significant changes. The new guest list is limited to your bubble of safety. Required face masks make eating corn on the cob more awkward than usual, and you eye your favorite sloppy sauce with suspicion rather than lip-smacking anticipation. Villages, towns, and municipalities everywhere have canceled the annual parades, concerts, and fireworks.
While the activities may be different, I have already noticed an uptick in traffic as people hop in their cars with plans to get out of town. Friends are opting to travel in RVs or to rent a place at the edge of a secluded lake. As a pre-COVID introvert, I try to avoid crowds. I’ve stocked the kitchen pantry. The weathermen predict pleasant weather, and I plan to work on getting some writing accomplished.
I have a ritual I invoke at the beginning of each month. I evaluate my progress, review my accomplishments, and congratulate myself on what worked. That’s the easy part. Next, I determine where I fell short and devise ways to fix underperforming areas. Then I sweep it away.
Turning the calendar means a clean slate and an opportunity to start again. But a do-over isn’t a free pass. I hold myself accountable and reschedule unfinished tasks. By letting my failures guide me, I have learned valuable lessons. My mistakes point out miscalculations.
Dissecting the errors allows me to make course corrections, adjust my workflow, and I get another chance to be better. The one thing I keep in mind as I establish my new schedule is: my past performance is not an indicator of future outcomes. Instead, I set myself up to outperform last month’s wins.
I remember laying in the grass with deep darkness painting the sky. Millions and trillions of lights stud the canopy. I oriented the heaven’s guidebook above my head and located Ursa Major. There I identify the Big Dipper. Using the bowl’s pointer stars, I trace their alignment to the North Star, Polaris, at the end of the Little Dipper’s handle. It is a pulsing yellow supergiant, and while its intensity varies, I can locate its position with ease.
Letting the stars point me in the right direction, I turn to find Cassiopeia, Perseus, Pegasus, Lyra, Hercules, and Draco snaking its way between the bears. The fall and winter skies are my favorite. Orion hunts just outside my bedroom window. He and his dogs Canis Major and Canis Minor, stand guard keeping me safe. Now I live in a large metropolitan region, where bright light obstructs the view of celestial objects. I sense their presence even if I rarely see them. I have lost the lesser-known stars as they fade, masked by the glare.
Tonight, I wonder if my inability to see every star in the sky limits my options and prevents me from seeing the whole array of opportunities. Do the limited choices force me to choose? Compel me to act? Light pollution has blotted out dim alternatives, and the pool of possibilities is smaller. Orion’s call is constant, and it gives me strength. I know he has my back. He protects me, guarding me, as I ignore everything else and focus on my North Star. When morning sunlight streams through my window, my path forward is unmistakable.
Jo Hawk 