by Sara Barry | Feb 10, 2015 | Uncategorized, what I love, winter, writing
Right now I’m loving:
- This gift from my neighbor and its reminder that spring will come eventually
- Gaiters and long johns (since spring is no where near here yet)
- My wonderful neighbors—and their snowblowers
- These cookies (equally good made with coconut oil instead of butter)
- Seed catalogs (more spring dreams)
- Anne Lamott’s Small Victories
- My moka pot
- Our latest batch of chili (in a bowl with rice, as a dip for blue corn chips, or on homemade pizza)
- Seeing people joining me for Write What You Love
There’s still time time to join us. We start tomorrow! Sign up here.
What are you loving right now?
by Sara Barry | Jan 21, 2015 | garden, winter, writing
The garden is covered in snow and a sheet of ice. Stonework, fencing, the plants I didn’t cut back the only things showing where it should be. Garden books and seed
catalogs are stacked by my chair. It’s time to dream
I dream of green:
Lettuce and spinach
Peas
Cilantro
I wonder how my garlic, planted in the fall, is doing. I imagine where the tomatoes will go. I contemplate new beds for fresh strawberry plants.
My garden sleeps, and I dream.
This time of year, I read about new projects, new things to grow, new ways to grow it. I choose seeds. I just dream of warm days, moist earth, and green growth. And I wait.
This dormant time, this slow down, this dream time matters. The garden needs it. We do too. I tend to forget this. I need to turn off the computer and get outside for a walk (that one’s been tough lately). I find new energy as I move slowly through yoga again and go to bed earlier. I soak in hot baths and am mesmerized by the fire.
It looks like doing nothing, but a lot is happening. Resting, gathering energy, letting things move within you that are too busy when you are busy busy busy gogogo. Take time to daydream. Let yourself rest and go quiet like the garden does. Let your energy gather for more growth.
Take a walk, in woods or by water if you can. Mediate or do some yoga. Shut off your computer and tablet and phone. Let go of your list. Pour yourself a cup of coffee or tea or wine. Sip. Contemplate.
Then if you want, doodle, draw, or write in a journal.
For your journal
Try one of these prompts or words:
Imagine
I dream of
Garden
Grow
- Write the word or phrase at the top of the page and create a list or freewrite starting from it.
- Write it in the middle of the page. Circle it and add other words and ideas branching off it.
- Write it in the middle of the page and spiral your thoughts outward.
Be dreamy, be open. Don’t edit or censor. Just write and see what comes out.
What are you dreaming of these days?
by Sara Barry | Jan 14, 2015 | writing
Last year I intended to write a lot. Journaling and freewriting. Essays and articles—I even had ideas for them. Mostly, though, I wanted to draft the memoir I’ve been working on for years.
What happened?
I put my book project last in that list, just like I put it last on my to do list throughout 2014. 
I wanted to do it, but it felt frivolous. I had other work to do, paying work or potentially paying work, that had to come first right?
My kids needed me. I had other family stuff to deal with. Dinner to make. Laundry to fold. Running. I was too busy.
It made a good excuse. The truth was that I was stuck. I had written lots of material, but I couldn’t quite figure out the scope of my story. I had an easy answer, but it wasn’t the book I wanted to write. So I let the project fall to the bottom of my list every day. Until it wasn’t even on my list at all.
Sound familiar?
In the fall, energized by a new schedule and the new start of September, I asked one of my writing teachers for help. She looked at some of my recent work and made a few suggestions.
I started to see the pieces come together. I was eager to jump in. And then work deadlines loomed and the project sat neglected. Again.
Now, here we are, a new year, a new page, a new chance to focus in on a goals.
Tomorrow morning, before I check email, before I jump into client work, I will focus on this story. I’ll sit in the chair whether the words flow or flounder.
I’ll come back next week and do it again. I’m starting small. Once a week. More than last year. A start.
What are your goals this year? What are doing to put them first? What do you need to make them happen?
I needed time, which I now have with my kids in school. I just need to use it well.
I needed inspiration, which I got originally through classes and writing challenges.
I needed help getting past my own hurdle—what do I do with all this writing I’ve done, how do I mold it into something more than a bunch of scattered files? I got that from my writing mentor.
Now I need to do the work.
What project will you focus on this year? kind of help do you need to meet goals? What will you do today to get started?
by Sara Barry | Jan 7, 2015 | writing
I love the idea of a word of the year, though I often struggle to find one. Nobody is carving my word in stone. If it doesn’t work or no longer fits, I can change it or just let it go.
2015 is my year to open.
Open
I want to be open to possibilities and new ideas and experiences, to keep an open mind and not jump to the reasons why something won’t work.
I want to keep my eyes open to see the beauty around me, notice what is happening in my life, be present.
I want my heart open to joy and wonder.
I want to get back to yoga and open my body and inner channels that are stuck.
I want openness around me—open space, less clutter—and open space in my schedule to reflect and dream and play.
I want to be outside in open places under the broad sky. I want to remember to look up at that sky, to scurrying clouds playing hide and seek with the moon or settling of rose-gold behind the branches as daylight settles out.
And I want to be open to new ways to see this word in my life as I move through the year. It’s a new year, and I’m open to change.
Your openings
Think about openness in your own life. Where could you be more open? What would openness or openings look like for you? Freewrite about the word open or openness or openings.
Do you have a word of the year?
Did you choose your word, or did it choose you? Tell us about it.
by Sara Barry | Nov 26, 2014 | gratitude, writing
What are you thankful for? I’m thankful for many things that aren’t people dependent:
A cozy home, flexible work, a good run, a yummy dinner . . .
A little quiet, a gorgeous sunset . . .
I’m grateful too for many people things people do or have done:
Snuggles from my girls, visits from old friends, an unexpected note in the mail . . .
Sharing their stories, listening to mine . . .
Today, rather than simply build my gratitude list, I’m going to send some love and thanks out to those people who have made a difference.
Who are you going to thank today?
Maybe they changed your life or just made you smile. Maybe they did something today or ten ten years ago. It doesn’t matter. It’s never to late for thanks.
Write a note of thanks, and send it.
by Sara Barry | Nov 12, 2014 | grief, writing
The summer after my son died, I got a massage. I was naked on the table ready to begin
and Courtney asked me to do a brief visualization before we got started.
“Imagine all your fears and worries and sadness are a bunch of balloons. Put the balloons outside the door. Tie them up. They’ll be right there when you come out, but leave them out there for now.”
I began to cry lightly. I’m not sure why. Was I afraid to let go of the fears and sadness? Was I relieved to put them down for a while? Did it feel that strange to even try to leave them briefly?
I knew grief was a long, convoluted process, but it took me a while to learn that letting go is a multi-step process too.
I let go of my expectations.
I let go of Henry’s spirit and then his body.
I let go of stuff he used and stuff he never did.
I let of the need to remind people that I’m sad and hurting.
And I learned that sometimes letting go is really just loosening your grip a little.
When Courtney is done with the massage, I moved slowly. I felt lighter and looser, but drained. And when we stepped out the door, she was right, my fears and sorrows were right there waiting for me.
I thought how good it would feel to take them outside and let go of the string, watch them float up into the sky away from me. Hard to imagine they float at all. But I held tight to the string, not ready to loosen my grasp, somehow reluctant to release the anxiety fully, afraid of losing the joy and the love that might be tangled up in it.
Since that day, I’ve loosened my grasp, let go of more, found that what I want to hold onto isn’t so easily lost. Still, I see those balloons hovering ahead of me in the darkness of mid-December and I wonder what else I can let go of.
What have you let go of? What would you like to let go of? What stops you?
