Feeling a bit uninspired, I turned to a favorite book about creativity, Big Magic, Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth Gilbert. One of my favorite lines in this book is "I firmly believe that we all need to find something to do in our lives that keeps us from eating the couch." (p. 172)
During this challenging time, I suspect many of us are "eating the couch." We are frustrated by what needs our attention now or takes our energy. We are distracted or fearful or sad or angry. This is not what we envisioned for ourselves.
I thought I would be close to finishing the draft of the last part of my memoir by now, but I have not written a word since the beginning of March. Of course, I understand that the bulk of my daily energy has been and still is directed towards my father as he continues his journey towards death, but I also wonder how much I would be affected by the swirl of the adjustments and emotional chaos caused by the pandemic. Would I be "eating the couch" instead of writing?
It is time to meet Maria.
Maria, who is 12 or so, I think, lives in our neighborhood. Her life has been turned upside down, just like the rest of us. I don't know what she would be doing if she wasn't sheltering in place. Perhaps she would be going to baseball or play practices, singing in the church choir, planning sleepovers with her friends, maybe babysitting in order to earn some money for summer camp. What she isn't doing is "eating the couch."
Instead, she is making masks. Wearing a mask, she sits behind a sewing machine on her deck and makes and sells masks. $5.00 each and $1.00 from the sale of each mask goes to the Minnesota Food Share program.
How could I resist? I bought two and then asked her how long she had been sewing. She scrunched her eyes, as if in deep thought and then after a pause, said, "Last week." Of course, I would love to know more details, like whose idea was this or how many have you sold, but instead I just thanked her for her contribution.
I continued on my walk, walking a bit longer, inspired by Maria's alternative to "eating the couch," and when I returned home I opened my journal to jot down a few thoughts about what I don't want to forget about this time.
I don't want to forget Maria.
If you can't do what you long to do, go do
something else.
Go walk the dogs go pick up every bit of trash
on the street outside your home, go walk the dog
again, go bake a peach cobbler, go paint some
pebbles with brightly colored nail polish and put
them in a pile. You might think it's procrastination,
but --with the right intention--it isn't; it's motion. And
any motion whatsoever beats inertia, because inspiration
will always be drawn to motion. Big Magic, p. 254
Invitation
What are you doing, instead of "eating your couch"? I would love to know.
We have restored the house to non-holiday order. As much as I love
all the Christmas decorations, how good it feels to put them away and discover a bit of space in the house. Arranging new vignettes and filling in shelves in a new way is a form of creativity for me, and I love shopping the house for a new look.
I often start with the table in the entry way.
And then fill the shelves of the old painted cupboard in the living room.
I wander from room to room, picking up a book here, a vase there. I test them, turn them, stand back and look. Nope, not quite right, and continue the process. Yes, I know it takes time--time when I could be sitting at my desk writing, but creating a atmosphere that is pleasing and interesting and unique to our home, the ways we live and open ourselves to others in this home is important to me.
Elizabeth Gilbert says, "...creative living is where Big Magic will always abide."
I suppose I could blame this on my mother, but, instead, I thank her. She liked to create change in her home, too. In fact, I remember her commenting once, and not in complementary way, about a neighbor whose kitchen table had the same centerpiece season after season, year after year. That didn't happen in our house. I loved seeing what was new on the family room mantel or coffee table when I returned home after an absence.
We moved frequently when I was growing up, and she and my Dad quickly created home for us each time we moved, unpacking boxes even before the moving van had shut its big doors and pulled away from the street. Just because a piece of furniture was in the living room in the previous house didn't mean that's where it would be in the new house. She looked at her possessions with fresh eyes and matched them to each new space.
I try to do that too.
Unlike my sister, I am not good with my hands. You won't find me at a sewing machine whipping up new curtains, and Bruce is the painter in the family. But I am an arranger. Re-arranger. (In a way that's what I do on the page, too.) I have a good sense of space and color, and our home is my playground.
Some may say this is a form of distraction, but this process doesn't take away from my writing or teaching time, but instead it feeds it, nurtures it, and along the way, energizes me.
Again, Elizabeth Gilbert in Big Magic, Creative Living Beyond Fear:
Go walk the dog, go pick up every bit of trash on the
street outside your home, go walk the dog again, go
bake a peach cobbler, go paint some pebbles with
brightly colored nail polish and put them in a pile.
You might think it's procrastination but--with the
right intention--it isn't; it's motion. And any motion
whatsoever beats inertia, because inspiration will
always be drawn to motion.
For now everything has a place and I like the way the house looks and feels, but that may not be true by this time next week. In the meantime, however, I will be at work at my desk, playing with words and ideas.
An Invitation
Where does your creativity live and thrive? I would love to know.
Last week I entered a time of "writing recovery," a term Louise DeSalvo uses in her book The Art of Slow Writing. I had not worked on my book project for several weeks. A road trip followed by planning for a retreat took precedence. No regrets, but that hasn't made the recovery process any easier.
I had no idea where I left off and what I had written and what the next step should be. I had passed the stage of missing my writing time and had entered a time of wondering if it just might be easier to let the project go. I could easily keep myself busy and even feel productive and purposeful. The retreat itself led to a number of other ideas to pursue. In other words this was a dangerous time; a time when it was important to sit and listen to the various voices trying to make conversation with me.
Fortunately, I had Elizabeth Gilbert who wrote Eat, Pray Love, and her new book Big Magic, Creative Living Beyond Fear, to cheer me on or was it to slap some sense into the voice that said, "Why bother. You don't need to do this."? Gilbert spoke recently in Minneapolis and over 700 of us heard her encourage each of us in our creative endeavors. Someone in the audience asked her about how to stay focused and Gilbert suggested the importance of knowing the difference between curiosity and distraction. In other words when does an Internet search for some essential piece of information for the article you are writing (curiosity) turn into a lost in time, one website leading to another till you forget what your initial question was waste of time (distraction)?
In my life distraction disguises itself as busyness, as in a need to wash floors and polish silver. Sometimes as opportunities. Sometimes as flattery, as in "You are the perfect person to do x, y, z." Sometimes as laziness, as in a pile of magazines beckoning me or another episode of Miss Fisher's Mysteries. (Netflix--great fun and a little racy!) Sometimes another name for distraction is fear.
Gilbert says, "Everyone's song of fear has exactly the same tedious lyric, 'STOP, STOP, STOP, STOP.'"
That's the voice I was hearing. The voice wasn't telling me to stop because I might die if I continue or I might contract a catastrophic illness or I might lose our entire savings or I might totally alienate everyone I love and hold dear. The voice I was hearing was undermining my own creativity and my desire to use that creativity. The voice I was hearing, frankly, was not very trustworthy, for over the years that voice has gotten in the way of growth and openness.
When I brushed that voice aside, of course, there was room for something new and far more interesting. I still had no idea how to return to my writing, but teachers are often right there when you need them. Louise DeSalvo says, "And beginning anew requires us to be patient with ourselves." Patience vs distraction.
She also mentioned somewhere in The Art of Slow Writing that when she is working on a book she keeps a separate notebook for each main section of the book. That was it--that was the clue I needed to get back to work.
Without further hesitation I drove to Target and bought 5 new three-ring notebooks, one for each section in my book, and a bunch of dividers, which I labelled "drafts," "feedback," "journal entries," "notes," etc for each notebook. (My labelmaker, one of my favorite toys, got quite the work-out!) I reorganized all the material I have amassed these past months in a way that is far more accessible and in the process, I re-acquainted myself with what I have done so far and what I need to do next.
Sometimes organizing can be a distraction for me, but this time it was a step forward, and because I spend time getting to know my various voices, I knew that would be the case.
That was last week, and this week I have been writing. Actually working on a new chapter and I now have several pages of what Anne Lamott calls the SFD or "shitty first draft." It's a start, and I am definitely in writing recovery.
An Invitation
What does distraction look like, sound like in your life? What do you do when you recognize it? What is waiting to be recovered in your life? What's keeping you from setting aside distraction and moving forward into your own creative living? I would love to know.
Resources
Elizabeth Gilbert's Big Magic
Louise DeSalvo's The Art of Slow Writing
Anne Lamott
I am about to embark on a big adventure, and I must admit I am a bit nervous. Nope, I have not signed up for skydiving or kayaking down the Mississippi. I am not doing yoga on a paddle board as our daughter did this past weekend. I am not walking across the desert--walking in our neighborhood suits me just fine, thank you very much. Nor have I decided to buy a Harley and go on a road trip.
Those of you who know me understand I am not much of a risk taker, especially when it comes to physical feats. I so admire my friend who recently went to Mongolia and stayed in a ger, also known as a yurt, a portable round tent covered with skins, and other women I know who grab zip lines in the jungle or who live and breathe for the next challenging ski run. That is not me.
My big adventure doesn't involve leaving home or wearing special gear or applying for Visas. Preparation and hard, everyday work have been involved, however, and will continue to be necessary, along with the ongoing presence of a guide.
If you have been reading this blog for some time, you know that I am writing a book. This past year I have spent focused time on this project, especially this summer when I have been taking an intense online twelve week class, Your Book Starts Here, Part 2, offered through The Loft. (I took Part One last fall.) A major aspect of each week has been to submit the draft of a chapter from my book to my small group of three other memoir writers for their feedback. At first that was scary, and I felt unsure and vulnerable and sometimes I was ready to turn and run back down the mountain, but I trusted my guide, the most excellent her royal highness Mary Carroll Moore, and opened myself to all the feedback my fellow writers have suggested. I am grateful for their support and camaraderie.
This week we are embarking on the next part of this trip, one that causes me to hold my breath and wonder if I am strong enough for the challenge. Our assignment this week, along with continuing to write and also submitting a chapter to our group as we do every week, is to read our entire manuscript from beginning to end.
I have compiled, organized, and printed every chapter, every piece of unworked free writing into one document of about 71,000 words, 235 double-spaced pages, and it is now sitting on my desk. Waiting for me to take the plunge.
Why is this so scary? Well, what if I hate it? What if I feel I have totally wasted my time? What if I regret spending the four hours or so every day this summer working on this project? And then there is the other side as well. What if I basically feel good about the direction of what I am doing? Do I then have the stamina and the courage and commitment to see this book to its fruition? Will I ever be able to find an agent and if that happens, will a publisher want it? Or should I self-publish it? EEEEK--I'm a writer not a publisher. Do I have to learn all about that, too? Well, the list of fears and what ifs can go on and on.
How easy it is to jump ahead when all that is required of me in this moment is to grab this stack of paper and sit in a comfortable chair with a Diet Coke next to me and a pink highlighter in my hand and begin to read.
Before reading, however, I will close my eyes, lightly, not tightly, and I will breathe, first deeply and then more evenly, as I find my own rhythm. I will rest in the quiet for a few minutes, listening for that inner voice that called me to show up and to do what I have said I have wanted to do--to write. I will listen again to that voice, the voice of Spirit who lives within me and gently supports me as I attempt to be the person I was created to be. I will listen to the difference between Spirit and my active Inner Critic, who thought it would be a good idea to stop working on this pipe dream of writing a book when I didn't get the grant I applied for this last spring. That inner critic who urged me to stop working so hard. "For what? You'll never get this book published any way and you might not even finish it. You don't have to do this?"
Julia Cameron, as quoted in Creative Authenticity, 16 Principles to Clarify and Deepen Your Artistic Vision by Ian Roberts says,
Creativity is really a spiritual issue, point blank!
Period! It takes courage. Another word for courage is
faith--and scripturally we say "faith without works is
dead". Creatively, it is exactly the same thing, so the
whole trick is to get people into action, to take creativity
out of the realm of theory and into the realm of practice.
What that means is to show up, to take the next step, however scary and uncertain. For me, today, that means daring to read what I have written. Just that. The next part of the adventure will unfold, I am sure of that.
Therefore, I have packed my backpack for this big adventure, and I bring the following with me for sustenance and inspiration:
I cherish my own courage. I salute myself for the
brave action I undertake in my life. I focus with
clarity and appreciation on the choices I have made
which have required courage and self-determination.
I applaud myself for my strength and my daring. Rather
than belittle myself for my fears, I choose to honor
myself for the bravery with which I have often walked
through my fears. I count back in specific ways and
enumerate for myself examples of my own courage:
the new friendship I have undertaken, the steadiness I
have shown in a difficult job, the honesty I have
displayed in opening a difficult conversation. I honor
myself for my bigheartedness in the face of challenges
from which I could have--but did not--shrunk back. My
courage brings blessings in my life. My courage blesses
the lives of others.
Blessings, Prayers and Declarations
for a Heartful Life, pp 74-75
Julia Cameron
An Invitation
In what ways are you asked to be courageous in your life right now? Is there a Big Adventure that is calling you? Is there an Inner Critic or Naysayer who gets in your way? What words do you have for that negative, nagging voice? How is Spirit guiding you and what is the next step? I would love to know.
Resources
The Loft Literary Center https://www.loft.org
Mary Carroll Moore http://www.marycarrollmoore.com
Julia Cameron http://juliacameronlive.com
Ian Roberts http://www.ianroberts.com
I love writing, reading, and working in my garret, and I know how lucky I am to have this space. Bookshelves line the walls. I can see the top of the maple tree bending towards garage roofs, and inbetween the homes across the alley from us catch a glimpse of the occasional walker on the next block. When it rains, I hear it on the roof and when it gets cold, I wrap up in a shawl and pretend to be a starving, but brilliant artist.
Lately, I have spent most of my daytime life here. Bruce says he never sees me, and true, I head up the stairs first thing in the morning and come down only for food and drink and the bathroom and when other aspects of my life require it. I need the time here since I am taking a demanding online writing course and a theology class, and I need the quiet solitude and freedom from distraction to move through the material. However, those are not the only reasons I have focused my writing and study life here in the garret.
I thought after being homebound when I broke my ankle the end of March and finally, being able to be out and about that I would overcompensate for the forced time home. I am not a hermit, and I am so happy I can enjoy a more normal and routine life once again, and at first, I did feel sprung from the physical restrictions, but for the most part I am happy to be home. Introverts often are.
Part of the reason is that for almost a year and a half I was at the mercy of potential buyers for our home in Madison. I had a nice office in that home, too. My desk was the over nine feet long harvest table formerly our dining room table in our home at Sweetwater Farm. I could spread out on that expansive space and stack piles of books without interfering with my laptop and legal pads. Plenty of room. My current desk was once the vanity table in my walk in closet--a perfect space for hair and make-up gear, but a little limited in work space. I don't care. I am making do. I am doing that because no one else dictates how long I can be here. The potential of people walking in our home and making judgements about the space and the color choices and the use of rooms is over! A phone call to schedule a showing during my prime creative time is a thing of the past. I no longer have to pack up my laptop and notebooks and whatever else I think I may need and leave the house in the middle of a time when ideas are flowing. I revel in the fact that I can sit here in my flannel pajamas and slippers for as long as I want to on many days. Why would I leave?
Every morning Bruce leaves the house first thing in the morning and heads to his new "office," Grand Central Cafe. He takes his laptop and does his morning work while enjoying his coffee. Sometimes his good friend joins him. Sometimes our daughter is there, too. Occasionally, he asks if I would like to join him or meet him there, but so far I like this arrangement.
Sunday afternoon, however, I decided I needed a change. I had a notebook full of handwritten freewriting for my book project, and I needed to transcribe each piece into a computer file. Creative thinking was not involved nor was the need for quiet and stillness. In addition, I felt a need to be a writer in the world again. To feel myself part of a larger community, a visible community, even though I would not know anyone else sitting at nearby tables. I needed to eavesdrop, unconsciously, of course, on conversations about life and love, joy and sadness, the extraordinary in the ordinary. I needed to see connection --girl meets boy, women friends, families with little ones in strollers, students with bulging backpacks and headphones. I needed a different kind of energy from one I have created in my solitary garret.
What a good idea! I spent the entire afternoon at Grand Central, which seems to be combination study hall for students at Macalester College and an extension of a workplace for others. I observed three students, each absorbed in their homework, only one on a laptop and the other two reading texts, underlining and taking notes the old-fashioned way. After an interval of 45 minutes or so, they would chat for a few minutes about their professors and their classes and worries about upcoming midterms and then they returned to their individual work. An easy, congenial rhythm.
Not only did I finish the task I needed to do, but along the way I gathered a number of ideas for my book and noted ways to develop what I have already written. I felt stimulated. Natalie Goldberg, http://nataliegoldberg.com a huge proponent of writing in restaurants and cafe's, says in her writing classic, Writing Down the Bones, Freeing the Writer Within, "…the cafe atmosphere keeps that sensory part of you busy and happy, so that the deeper, quieter part of you that creates and concentrates is free to do so. It is something like occupying a baby with tricks, while slipping the spoon full of applesauce into her mouth. Mozart used to have his wife read stories to him while he was composing for the same reason." I felt spoon fed with stimulation I didn't know I needed.
Sometimes when I write in a cafe I pretend I am in Paris, especially if I have ordered chocolat au chaud, which is hot chocolate to all of you who are not sitting in a French cafe. Even before we planned our trip to Paris I was intrigued by a book called A Writer's Paris, A Guided Journey for the Creative Soul by creativity coach, Eric Maisel. http://ericmaisel.com I know I could write stunningly if I lived in Paris and so why not imagine myself being there. "Remind yourself that writing in Paris is a brilliant way to make meaning and that you are absolutely on track... If necessary, treat yourself to chocolate." p. 50. See why I love that book!
I probably would have finished the task I set for myself even if I had stayed in my perch at home, but I suspect on that particular day, if I had not responded the the whisper of restlessness, I would have slipped into distractions along the way. A load of laundry, time reading the New York Times Book Review, maybe a few games of solitaire online. What I needed was a slight change--one that wouldn't take a huge effort to make happen. I needed the nudge that often comes with a different place, sounds and views, and it worked. Monday I was back in my garret and happy to be there, but my Sunday experience reminded me how important it is to listen to one's self, to become acquainted with what adds to one's growth and what speaks to one's purpose and essence.
An Invitation
Does my experience speak to you? How do you recognize and respond to some rising restlessness within you? Is there a call for new stimulation, a slight change? I would love to know.
It all started with a yearning. I love this house, but one of our requirements when we were looking for a house was the existence of a front porch. This house, however, does not have the desired front porch, nor does it have several other "must have's," such as central air conditioning, a fireplace, and a double garage. Oh well, compromise is key when looking for a house, and this house fits the bill in many other ways, especially proximity to our grandkids.
Back to the front porch. I love front porches, and in many ways the front porch at our home in Madison was my favorite feature in that house. We ate meals there, entertained there, napped, read, and I plugged in my laptop and wrote many blog posts there. The porch was spacious and had just enough privacy so people walking by often didn't notice we were there. Many of the homes in our "new urbanism" neighborhood have gracious front porches, but not many residents seemed to use and enjoy that space as we did.
The home in St Paul where we raised our children all those years ago was built in 1906 and was also in a neighborhood where most of the homes had wide front porches. In those homes porches became additional living space for both private and public gatherings. In the more formal 19th century and early years of the 20th century, a front porch "served as a kind of holding station when unannounced visitors came to call." (Porch Presence, Interior Design for the Exterior Room by Sally Fennell Robbins, p. 17) At that time in our history front porches also represented a break from the constraints of the Victorian era with its dark, dimly lit rooms. (p.17)
Living there, we learned front porch etiquette. If someone walking by greeted you, you, of course, greeted them, too. If you remained in your comfortable wicker chair with your book on your lap, the stroller continued passing by, but if you rose from your seat and leaned over the railing and stood by the steps, that was a sign you were ready to engage in more conversation, and might even extend an invitation to join you on the porch. It was all very genteel!
This house does not have a front porch, and I miss it. It does have a front stoop and when I was able to move around a bit more as my ankle was healing and when the weather became warmer, I moved a chair on the stoop and sat and read and watched the neighborhood. That was not a permanent or even very satisfactory solution to the porch issue, for when not in use, the chair needed to be folded and set aside to make the front door accessible. However, that became Step One in the evolution of a garden.
Step Two: The front yard does have a lovely tree, providing shade and a setting for a couple chairs and a small table. Voila! Outdoor living space. I did sit there on occasion, but frankly, I felt a bit too exposed for my introverted nature.
Step Three: On my walks in the neighborhood I found myself coveting other people's front porches, wondering if I could rent space occasionally. I would bring the lemonade, and they wouldn't have to entertain me. They would hardly know I was there as I sat quietly and read my book. And then inspiration struck in the form of an inviting side courtyard. I started noticing other examples in the neighborhood where a side yard had become an inviting and yet private space. Could we do that? We had a narrow side yard lined on the neighbor's side with arborvitae and at the back was our fence and a gate to the back yard. With the house as the third side, we had three "walls" already in place, and it was just big enough for a couple chairs and a small table.
Step Four: What would the master gardener in our house, my husband Bruce, think of this idea? I cunningly mentioned the house a block away that had so creatively used its side yard, making it a real feature of the house. After steering him past the house on one of our walks, he, too, became enthusiastic about doing something similar for our house. Off we went on field trips to various nurseries looking at structures to create an entrance to this garden. Most of the arbors we saw were too big or too flimsy or too expensive or just not right, but then one gorgeous Saturday we went on a day trip down the Great River Road on the Wisconsin side of the Mississippi.
At one time we owned a one-room schoolhouse built in the 1860's in that area. It was our getaway, until we moved to Ohio in the 1990's and sold it, but we have never quite let go of an attachment to that area. After lunch at a favorite spot, Harbor View Cafe http://www.harborviewpepin.com in Pepin, we stopped at another favorite place, Stockholm Gardens http://www.stockholmgardens.com. While Bruce was getting reacquainted with the owner, I found a place to sit and rest my slightly throbbing ankle. And what did I see? The perfect arbor. Wrought iron painted a vintage green with lots of natural patina. Not too many curlicues, a rising arch, and just the right size. The price was even right. When I could get Bruce's attention, he agreed. This was it!!!
Step 5: Here's where Bruce's fun really began, for moving in the chairs and setting up the arbor at just the right spot only set the stage for digging up a small space leading to the arbor and planting with daisies and other perennials. And then there is all the space close to the house and making that even more pleasing with additional plantings and then moving two planters and a fountain and other garden "junk," as he calls the ornaments he enjoys collecting. I remembered a lantern in the basement I thought would be a nice welcoming touch for the arbor, and Bruce thought a mirror hanging on the gate would make the space seem larger. We just happened to have a vintage mirror gathering dust under a bed. All of a sudden our 1920's bungalow has an additional room, our St Paul version of a Cotswold garden. This is a space that balances privacy, but also opens us to interaction with our neighbors. I am delighted.
Steps 6, 7, 8……This cottage side garden will continue to evolve. I am not sure the chairs and table are the right ones, and isn't it too bad that I sold the ceramic garden seats/tables we had on our deck in Madison? Bruce talks about window boxes on the side windows and, of course, more plants and flowers will be added, and then there is the issue of a "floor."
In the meantime, this space is a symbol of creative collaboration, where yearning and inspiration cooperated to create something new, something vibrant and pleasing. True, it is not a front porch, but instead of being stuck in what was, we decided to move to the Cotswolds, and who knows what the time spent there will open for us.
An Invitation
When has a yearning fed by inspiration led to something new in your life? With whom do you have a creative collaboration and how does that work? When you are inspired, how does that happen, and what is the springboard of inspiration for you? I would love to know.
Stay tuned for additional posts about gardening--gardening as spiritual practice and gardens as sacred space.
I feel a surge of creative energy. Ideas are flowing:
* Topics for this blog,
* Possibilities for additional blogs,
* Plans for groups I would like to start here in Madison and/or in St Paul--a circle of women exploring their retirement years, a reflective writing group combining spirituality and writing practice, and spiritual direction groups,
* Visions of writing projects, large and small,
* Ways to do life review or journal writing workshops in senior living facilities.
I am almost hesitant to go for a walk or to meditate, for those quiet times often result in even more ideas, but then so does sitting on the front porch doing classwork for the online class on blogging I am taking or transcribing journal entries for one of my writing projects.
Where is this surge of creativity coming from? And why right now?
Perhaps the robin knows. Often when I am on the front porch and I glance away from my laptop screen or book page, I notice a robin perched on my car's side mirror. I have started greeting this robin when I see it. "Good morning, Robin." "It's already afternoon, Robin." "I've had a busy day, Robin. What about you?" I enjoy its presence, and I wonder if the robin has a message for me.
Totems and Their Spiritual Messages
One of my most consulted books is Animal Speak, The Spiritual and Magical Powers of Creatures Great and Small by Ted Andrews. When I felt the frequent presence of a wolf in my dream life, I discovered that wolves are a symbol for "teacher," and I became more aware of how my essence is a teacher. When I realized how often I noticed hawks when I was walking or driving, I consulted the book yet again and learned that the hawk is a "messenger." The message has not always been clear, but I have been reminded to open to what was on the wing. At other times I have read the pages about herons, eagles, turkeys, and bear.
According to Native American spirituality, wolf and hawk and the others are my totems. Totems are sources of energy with which you may feel closely associated for a lifetime or for certain periods of your life. Totems can create awareness of yourself and your connection to Spirit.
I wondered if Mrs. Robin is a new totem in my life. Robin, says Andrews, is a symbol for the "spread of new growth." If a robin appears in your life, "expect new growth to occur in a variety of areas in your life." The book mentions the fact that robins can raise more than one brood a year, symbolizing the "activation of the creative life force."
I feel a resurgence of the creative force in my life.
I thought surely we would be moving from this house and downsizing into another by now. I thought my creative energies would be engaged fully into settling into a new home, but, alas, that has not happened. Instead, it seems I have an opening in the creative energy department. I have "found" time in which my creativity can thrive again. Perhaps I am coming out of the retirement cocoon I have experienced since moving to Madison five years ago.
My husband says Mrs. Robin has a nest in the neighbor's magnolia tree. I accept that, but I also think she has an encouraging message for me. "I am here to remind you that you are not done and creativity is alive and well within you." "Thank you," I say.
An Invitation
I invite you to pay attention to animals that often occur physically in your life or when you meditate or dream. Consider the message they may have for you. And if your creativity needs a boost, look to the nearest robin!
Feeling a bit uninspired, I turned to a favorite book about creativity, Big Magic, Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth Gilbert. One of my favorite lines in this book is "I firmly believe that we all need to find something to do in our lives that keeps us from eating the couch." (p. 172) 
