“Pike’s Peak or Bust!” That was the slogan uttered by would-be miners who contracted gold fever after Green Russell and Sam Bates mined twenty troy ounces of gold near Little Dry Creek in current day Englewood, Colorado. The phrase embodies a “do or die” mentality, and the sense of desperation is palatable. There is no other option, no further recourse, no viable alternative, and no Plan B. The prospectors knew the odds and prepared for back-breaking work in search of precious golden flakes.

Today, we hear people tell us impressive achievement emanates from a big dream. Visualize your heart’s desire, and attraction brings it to you. Success requires more than good thoughts. You can imagine your six-pack abs, but they won’t materialize unless you commit to doing the reps. Completing a regular exercise regime guarantees results. Many individuals say they wish to become a writer. You must determine how desperately you crave the title of author. You must want to write.

The daily grind is arduous. No one is born a master of their field. Practice, patience, perseverance, and dogged determination are the qualities required to get through the learning curve. Mastery feels like a never-ending journey. Every day we decide whether we keep going or if we quit. For me, quitting is not an option.

How desperate are you?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

A pandemic, lockdowns, social distancing, and general anxiety upended my established routines. Tied to my regular morning, afternoon, or evening schedules were many of my good habits. I didn’t think about them because they worked on autopilot. Everyday events created the desired activity—fix dinner, clean the kitchen, and pack the next day’s healthy lunch. At lunchtime, my brown bag reminded me to fill my water bottle and hydrate. The sudden switch to working from home broke my daily patterns, and chaos ensued. I needed to reinstate my lost habits.

Researchers tell us the simplest way to form new habits is to structure our environment to make the desired choice likely and the poor choice more difficult. I made it my mission to reorganize my life. It was not an easy project. There were false starts, missteps, blunders, and total failures to navigate before I found success.

I also stumbled onto a habit-tracker. It is a low-tech grid with the tasks on one axis and the days on the other. At first, I thought the idea of putting a star next to each completed job was rather childish, but I had nothing to lose. The habit tracker prompts my OCD impulse to want each box filled with colorful stickers. On another level, it forces me to be honest. We, humans, tend to believe we act better than we do. Of course, I took my medicine every day. Didn’t I? It’s hard to fudge the data when it is staring you in the face.

I track twelve chores. A few were habits that had gotten lost in the shuffle, while others were things I always wanted to do. The first month was rough, and there were lots of blank squares. I realized changes don’t happen overnight, and I kept plugging along. I’m still not perfect, but I see progress, and that is okay for today.

Have you used a habit tracker?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

I’m on a mission to shed my anxiety-induced increase of survival poundage and return to my Pre-Pandemic weight. It all sounds so easy in theory—control stress and spend more calories than you consume. The real-world application of theoretical logic isn’t quite as simple, and what works for one person doesn’t always work for someone else. On my quest to lighten my load, I have adopted a try it and see strategy. I’ve added walks into my weekly plan, increased my activity level, instituted intermittent fasting, and visited “healthy” websites for tips and tricks.

Most of the sites offer the same general guidelines, but occasionally I stumble across a helpful tidbit, and I hoped for some insight when I popped onto a motivational site. It began on a sour note. It suggested if I had my motivation screwed on straight, it would tell me to get out of bed early to exercise. Yeah. No. Next, it said calibrating my motives would make me appreciate a sweaty exercise routine. What? Nope, sorry, never going to happen. Passing on a donut and skipping an order of French fries was a direct tie to solid motives. For the record, I’m not giving up my favorite fries, I do not wake up any earlier than necessary, and I take precautions to ensure I never sweat. But I have been losing weight, and being motivated wasn’t the reason for the moving needle. So what was it?

I started unpacking my weight loss mindset, and I found my why. Bottom line? I was sick and tired of being fat, of my clothes not fitting correctly, and facing the number on the scale every morning. I wanted my old body back, and I wanted it now. There are plenty of roadmaps. I didn’t need to recreate the wheel, I needed to suck it up and do some things I despise. I want my pants to fit again more than I loathe walking and moderating my food intake. My projections indicate I will reach my Pre-Pandemic weight by the end of June.

This realization about wanting the result enough to tackle the jobs I hate got me thinking about writing. I’m working on an experiment. Let’s see if wanting to win really is everything.

What do you want?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

May God bless everyone who is mourning the loss of a loved one today.

Be strong and cherish every moment of happiness.

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

I have a favorite mug I reserve for Sunday mornings. The cup is a brilliant sunny yellow and has room for a substantial amount of coffee. While I’ve never measured, I suspect it holds more coffee than two of its dainty porcelain cousins. The walls are thick. They rate it safe for both the microwave and the dishwasher, and my coffee stays hot for hours. The handle fits my hand perfectly and keeps my fingers and knuckles far from the scalding contents, reducing the chances of unintentional burning and the potential of accidents.

My sturdy friend and I have been through countless Sundays of garden workouts. She doesn’t complain when I set her on a cement step, balance her on the edge of a raised bed, or wedge her into a spot between my gardening gloves and my trowel. I’ve misplaced her more times than I can count. But she stands out in green grass, muddy soil, and on the shelf with my garden gear.

There are hazards associated with drinking coffee outdoors. I’ve plucked stray leaves I noticed floating on my coffee’s surface. Her bright color attracts bees and wasps, though I doubt they enjoy coffee as much as I do. On more than a few occasions, I discovered dirt smudges on the rim. But there was still enough clean space to sip my brew.

Do you practice a Sunday ritual?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer