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 | Dec 10, 2014 | grief, holidays, parenting, reading, traditions, winter
They sorted through the bags looking for the tags, checking the numbers. This year they can read the numbers on our Advent calendar themselves.
22 . . . 19 . . . 18 . . .12 . . .9 . . . 11 . . . 8 . . . 6
“Six!”
Even before the book is out of the cloth bag, jolly with gingerbread men, they start exclaiming, the little one peering over the big one’s shoulder.
“Oh, I LOVE that book!”
“Me too! I luv it”
And then “Can we read it now?”
I sit on the couch and snuggle in on either side of me, a red head resting on one side, the a blond one on the other. I melt into that middle.
“On Christmas eve, many years ago,” I begin.
My big girl half shivers next to me, anticipating the rest of the story, and leans in a little closer. I smile and keep reading.
I heard the bell for many years, but then nothing. I worried that I’d never hear it again, that Christmas would be quiet and dim in our house.
Even though this month is still full of shadows, light has returned—the gentle glow of the Christmas tree, the warming light of the fire, the dancing excitement in my girls’ eyes.
They run around the house sometimes singing “Jingle Bells” and shaking the bracelets they made with tiny bells pipe cleaners. It’s a tinny sound, but in that enthusiasm, I can almost hear the richer, magical tones of that other bell.
When I’m done reading, we sit for a minute in the warmth and light and quiet before, I prompt them, “Time to get ready.”
The sky, and with it the room, has brightened. The bus will be here soon. In the bright kitchen, I stir oatmeal and call out to the girls to get dressed, but throughout the day there is that moment of peace and warm light and maybe a little magic.
Do you hear the bell at Christmas?
In the comments, share something that gives you comfort or joy this time of year.
by Sara Barry | Dec 3, 2014 | finding time, grief, holidays, traditions, Uncategorized, winter
Three kids went home sick from my daughter’s class yesterday. One threw up at school. I’m obsessively washing my hands, reminding the kids to wash theirs, and trying to remember not to eat scraps off their plate.
Still, this morning, my stomach felt off. I don’t know if I’m on the verge of something or if I’m just fearful of getting a stomach bug.
I’ve been thinking about fear and the trepidation with which I approach December every year, and wondering if some of that is just habit.
December pulls me hard between dark and light, joy and sorrow, birth and death. All year I hold these things together, but in December, the tension is strong.
Next week I will celebrate my older daughter’s birthday. A few days later, her little sister will blow out her own candles.
And on the 17th, we mark the day Henry died.
I still feel trepidation when this month rolls around. My body tenses as we move into December, wrapping tighter as we move closer to that day.I feel the pressure of birthdays and holidays on either side of Henry’s day. I feel that weight sinking in the center between them.
I have slowly reclaimed this month. I moved from having no tree to putting up a mini tree to telling my girls the stories of the ornaments as we hang them together on a big tree. I’ve slowly reintroduced traditions like baking cookies and making ornaments. I’ve added new traditions like our Christmas story advent calendar.
Along the way, I’ve found light again and joy. My girls have helped a lot with that, their enthusiasm and excitement lighting my way. I want to follow their light, bask in it’s glow.
I want to let go of the trepidation this month brings.The weight, the darkness, the sorrow may come—surely will—but I don’t want to give it extra time.
The past few Decembers have been about building—adding in traditions and celebrations. This year, I want to start to let go of anxiety and anticipation, so even more light can come in.
What can you let go of this December? What can you make room for?
Maybe you’ll let go of a tradition you never liked or an event you grumble about every year to make room for a new tradition that brings you peace or joy.
Maybe you’ll let go of getting “perfect” gift and enjoy spending time with loved ones instead.
Maybe you’ll cull your Christmas card list and write a note to a few friends.
Maybe you’ll throw out the to do list and sit by the fire and sip your eggnog.
Not sure? Try journaling about what you love most about the holidays.
Whatever you do, I hope you find more joy and peace and light in this season.
Share in the comments what you want to make room for this month and one thing you can let go of to get there.
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.
