Butterflies in the Head

The other day I read a post at Broadside expressing frustration at the number of posts out there where we complain about having writer’s block.  I am guilty of it myself on numerous occasions.

This is not one of those posts. I do not have writer’s block, as I proved to myself yesterday by writing a post about books, a Hub about multi-tasking, and a guest post for The Idiot Speaketh. Today, I’ve already written two rather long-winded e-mails (sorry A.Hab). 😛

No, I currently have a disease that is the complete opposite of writer’s block, which I am calling Butterflies in the Head.

Each butterfly represents an idea, a thought, a word, an image, a story. If I focus too long on one, however, it flits away and another one moves into view. I cannot capture their fleeting beauty.

So today I thought that I might share some butterflies, with the hope that, by putting them on the page I might clarify my focus and find the most magical one of all. Please bear with me as my mind flies with the butterflies, and then comment below on the topic you would like to see me pursue more deeply.

  • Unless you live in a cave with no access to the internet (which means you wouldn’t be blogging) you heard about the passing of Steve Jobs, and most likely have seen the quote I’ve posted below that speaks volumes to my current life journey. I wonder, however, what my intuition is saying, as sometimes it is muffled by the sound of butterfly wings.

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” ~ Steve Jobs

  • This morning, as I was writing my Morning Pages, Sarah bounced into my bed with her “journal” and asked me to read what she wrote about her dreams. Recently she has really embraced reading and writing, and that excites me.  In Bird by Bird Anne Lamott suggests that writer’s should write a book as a gift. Perhaps I need to start a project as a gift to my daughter.
  • Of course, a long time ago I had intended to turn this blog into a book as a gift for Sarah. Should I do that? The concept of that sounds overwhelming.
  • Am I selling my soul trying to write for gain on HubPages? Or am I wasting my time?
  • How do I create the career I want?
  • Even though I am all for freedom of speech, there is a line that can be crossed when someone starts spouting vitriol and libel. We all know what I am referring to. Yet, WordPress will not ban this person from this site.  Why do we allow haters and those with the loudest voices to continue to control society in the name of freedom?
  • I think I need to revisit The Story Teller and The Moon Calls to expand them somehow.
  • Puppets, Nathan wants a show with puppets!

Okay, that’s enough. My butterfly list can go on forever. Yet I still can’t seem to focus. Perhaps I will be able to as I let this post sink in. Thanks for being patient with my babbling butterflies.

I will now leave you with this lovely song I found by an artist called Blossomhead. Enjoy:


All Stories Have Value

I spent yesterday in a car, driving Nathan up to Okoboji, IA for the summer. Well, he did all the actual driving, I just watched the scenery go by along with the intimidating clouds and lightning strikes. It took us about 9 1/2 hours, including stops to walk the dogs and a quick trip to Trader Joe’s in Omaha.

On the way we listened to downloaded NPR shows including “Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me” and “This American Life,” and “The Moth.”

I heard stories. Stories big and stories small. Stories that affect the world, and stories that affected only individuals. And I realized, all stories have value. My story has value.

I want to be a storyteller, because through stories life gains value.

The trip hasn’t been without a little angst. I bring Nathan to a place that wants him, values him, but doesn’t really want or value me. I don’t really belong here, despite the fact that I have a lot to offer this place.

Last summer in Okoboji

But, I now realize that is part of my story. My story involves me learning to let go of jealousy, resentment, frustration. My story involves learning from the journey and learning from others.

My story is all that I have to offer you. In exchange, I hope you will share your story with me. Together our stories have power, beauty, and life.

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