You Need to Drink the Wine to Hear the Stories, #365StrongStories 43

Glasses clink and voices rise and fall. Sudden laughter startled the toddler whose trying to sleep hours after her bedtime. It's a family gathering, and though too many of us are missing, it has its own perfection.

Stories poured with wine are infuriating and hilarious in turns. It's best that one doesn't try to recount them while that wine is still flowing.

Lessons in Creativity and Survival from the Skies, #365StrongStories 42

Yesterday while I was drinking tea – my morning ritual when life isn’t too chaotic – a sudden flutter of shadows dappled the wall. I jumped up and turned to the window to see a huge flock of birds settling in the trees outside, their noise audible through glass and wood. It felt like a revelation, like a benediction. Things are on the wing. Change is coming. Good change, I think. If I had lived in another time, I would have been an ornithomancer. I study the flights of birds for wordless messages, their calligraphy etched dark against the winter sky.

Brenna Layne wove these words in a post about silence and writing, about being seen and getting published, about writing for the crowd and writing for the sake of story. This woman is steeped in magic and knows the spells that turn inner dreams into shared adventures. I trust her and her birds.

We’re all plagued with the doubt Brenna explores in her post…

• Will my work be seen?
• Is it worth all this devotion and occasional sacrifice?
• Would it be easier to live in a pre-internet age free of digital distraction and devoted to intimate conversation and a bit of bird language?

When in similar creative and/or "what am I supposed to do with my life confusion," I too turn to tea, to silence, to frantic writing, and the messages in the skies. (I also turn to wine and television, but that’s another story.)

Here’s what I know of bird medicine and the creatures that guide a writing mother concerned with making a living and making an impact:

I know the crow helps us spy magic and the power of creation. Of course they do - they’re our spiritual watchmen and the smartest of all the birds.

I know the heron, that unique introvert, gives us the power to focus and find balance. This is how we explore the depths and still stay firmly rooted into the earth.

It’s the hawk that brings the visions and bravery and the ability to fight when you must.

And finally, the cardinal teaches us equality and the right to be seen. The female sings as loudly and sweetly as the male. When it’s time to breed, the daddies mute their bold colors to better keep the nest safe and share in the care of the young.

When we’re feeling too empty and too full of stories all at once, let’s look to the skies and to our own soaring hearts.

An Invitation to Create Rather Than Sacrifice for the Next 40 Days, #365StrongStories 41

“Oh, Marisa!” exclaimed a new client. “We worked together so long ago, but I have had your name filed away in my mind. When I saw one of your Strong Stories I knew that I had to call you.”

Right there - that is the proof that forty days (and, often, nights) of collecting experiences from daily life, current events, and my own memory and sculpting them into stories has been worthwhile. Writing all these stories is in fact good for business. Gee whiz, content marketing does work!

Thing is, I’m not just powering through #365StrongStories to impress potential clients. My dedication to marketing just isn’t that robust!  No, in order to devote up to an hour of each day conceiving, writing, image wrangling, and posting these stories, it’s got to more than a visibility gimmick.

I have dedicated myself to writing and sharing a story every day in 2016 because I want to show you that it’s possible.

You can look at the world with fresh eyes each day and tell a meaningful, authentic story that changes the reader in some small, vital way.

A Creative, Rebellious Act

But there’s another reason I launched this project. Let me share an an anonymous quote that has been following me around the internet:

“In a society that profits from your self doubt, liking yourself is a rebellious act.”

Here’s my truth: I’m writing and posting a story a day because I like what I write. I also happen to like the act of writing and the satisfaction of having written something.

And damn, to like myself and my writing enough to do it each day without fail is a personal rebellion for me right now.

It’s rebellious to send my two year-old to go find Daddy in the kitchen because I’m trying to get all the ideas on paper before dinner. It’s a rebellion against what mothers are “supposed” to do when I train my first grader to “respect the hand” and walk quietly away so mama doesn’t lose her train of thought.

This creative rebellion may just be about survival in a distraction-plagued world.

Thanks to 40 Days of Experience, Here's Some Insight into the Next 40 Days

It’s a delightful coincidence that I can speak from 40 days of creative practice at the moment we begin another 40-day cycle. Today is the first day of Lent, a time that is generally about sacrifice rather than creation.

To be honest, there has been an element of sacrifice inherent in this project. Giving up wine with dinner, Netflix and a snuggle with my husband, and desperately needed sleep - sometimes I do that grudgingly. Not infrequently, I’ve had to chose my commitment to my own project over my kids. And sometimes we’ve eaten frozen pizza so I could hit publish before I hit the pillow.

Guess what? Everyone still knows I love them and still manages to eat a balanced diet. And I’ve never had to give up anything that was too precious to lose. There’s a really good chance I would have spent that “quality time” sneaking peeks at my phone anyway!

Overall, #365StrongStories has been a creative celebration - even on the days I curse myself and this terrible, demanding project.

When you honor a daily promise to show up to the page and actively partner with the muse, you’re actively erasing self-doubt.

This is your invitation to create rather than sacrifice

It doesn’t have to be a yearlong project. It doesn’t even have to last 40 days. It doesn’t have to be about stories or even about writing.

But do consider how this period of the year that is significant to so many people can help you start a personal creative rebellion and kick meaningless sacrifice and self-doubt to the curb (regardless of religious affiliation).

I'm just inviting you to doing something every day that makes you like yourself a little better.

Have you seen the stories in my series? Subscribe to the weekly #365StrongStories Digest so you can catch up on these quick reads each Saturday morning.

Confessions of an Undecided Voter, #365StrongStories 40

Midday on Super Tuesday 2008 we were still undecided. I paced in front of the Vassar library on my lunch hour, flip phone pressed to my ear. “I feel like Hillary is my favorite teacher from high school. How could I possibly vote against her?” “I know,” said my mom who was in her car outside her polling place on Cape Cod. “But Teddy endorsed Obama.”

This poli sci grad had raised her daughter to believe that politics mattered. We didn’t run for office (except for my mom’s near miss at town government when she was 25), but we never skipped a vote and we always watched too much MSNBC during campaign season.

Pundits say that endorsements don’t influence  outcomes, but when Hyannis Port is in your home town and Rose, Ethel, and Ted frequently sat just a few pews away on Sunday, the Kennedy opinion mattered. For all his flaws and alleged secrets, we felt like we knew the man. And Ted knew the candidates in a way that the viewers at home never could.

But we live in a different world now in 2016. We elected Teddy’s guy and made history, but it didn’t really change our lives in any tangible way. Senator Kennedy has since died and I have no trusted D.C.  insider to turn to. My mother has died too, so I’ve lost my electoral confidant.

This election year, it’s like being a child lost in a great city. I don’t know the way home and I can’t guess which choice leads to the best possible future.

This just reveals a truth that was always there: no candidate can promise safety in a shifting world. Stump speeches can’t make the economy treat us nicely and not even the wisest, most compassionate politician can deliver what you really want : a promise that the good things in life will last forever.

Viewing the Super Bowl through an Innocence Filter, #365StrongStories 39

We’re a football family, but I feel there should be an asterisk beside our names. At our house, there’s a love for the game and even for the hype. But there is also a whole lot of ambivalence.

If not for my husband, I probably would never watch. That said, I admit to being completely obnoxious when my team is on the field.

We love losing ourselves in the drama of 4th and inches and we’re suckers for a good Hail Mary pass. Because the kids aren’t old enough for many movies that capture parental interest, we rely on 300 pound men to entertain us and help pass cold winter Sunday.

And yet, we’ve programmed our six year-old daughter to avert her eyes whenever a “bad” commercial comes on.

I've laughed when my husband says to me “It’s not television, it’s football!”  But how can I blame him for saying something so silly when I'll let the girls sit on the couch with him, exposed to the kind violence and sexism and commercial idiocy that I usually protect them from? (Such is the price of some time to myself!)

Feeling like a hypocrite is never fun, but last night’s Super Bowl freed me from that stress. I was able to see that we’ve struck a balance that works for who we are and what’s important to us.

You couldn’t miss that it was the “Pepsi Halftime Show.” When I asked my daughter if she new what Pepsi was she looked at me with wide-eyed certainty: “It’s a beer with lots of Pep and See in it.”

Clearly, football ads are not responsible for soda addiction in children.

And during Beyonce’s Formation on the 50 yard line, our toddler stared up at her and asked “Riverdance?” We rushed everyone up to bed before there was a full scale tantrum over the fact that the show did not include Irish step dancing.

The tides of mainstream commercialism are fast and insistent, but we seem to have created a little raft for our family that allows us to safely navigate those waters and have fun on our own terms.

What about you - can you make peace with the football menace and all the madness that surrounds it? (Yes, I know I am opening Pandora’s box considering all the ugly behavior of the players, but that’s not the sort of stuff that my kids see when they’re watching the ball make it down the field so it’s not part of this particular equation for me.)