motivation

Yesterday I opened my office door to inspiration.

Actually, I opened my office door to Ray's wife, an elderly woman with a Christmas sweater and knee trouble. She brought a bag of cheese-balls, three newspapers, and a sharp sense of humor with her into our tiny space and settled into the leather chair in the corner. She was waiting for her husband to finish his volunteer shift. Her knee kept her from working the floor. She sat quietly in the corner while Aaron, Allison and I dashed in and out, told stories, answered phones, laughed and vented.

Then I found myself talking. She and I were alone. She asked me the usual questions. Where did I go to school? Where does my family live? Do I like Baltimore...and then, what was my major.

What was my major? English Language and Literature, with a bit of Creative Writing dabbled in. Writing.

I always hesitate when asked around here what I studied. It seems to foreign from the rush of setting up and serving an 800-person meal daily. For four years I curled up with stacks of books, notebook paper and two or three (or four) cups of tea and churned out essays, reports, poetry, reviews and journal entries by the binderfull.

I love writing. I used to fill up a thick journal every year. Now I'm writing maybe a page a week.

But not for long!

As it turns out, our visitor is a writer. She has written four books and currently writes and edits children's text books. She told me to write. She told me to write for 15-20 minutes a day. Write anything, she said. Write about the volunteers, about the people you meet. Write essays and journal entries and poems. Write stories. The more you write, the better you will write.

I know these things.
I know that when I go to yoga four times a week I do better, am stronger, and feel better than when I go once or twice a week. I know that when I paint and draw every day the colors and form come out more true and rich than when my sketchbooks sit in the box by my bed, neglected for days.

There's something different between knowing that and knowing how, as Bethany would say.

This year I will know how. Is it too early to make resolutions? My resolution is to be strong. I will be a braver artist, a deeper writer and a stronger yogini. Daily. Thank you Mrs. Ray. You stepped in for a minute and reminded me that some days are about waking up at 6am to write, just so it is there. Some days are driven to last till midnight, surrounded by paints and charcoal on my bedroom floor. Without discipline, skill remains small and weak. Thank you for your motivation.