Sometimes in life, you have to imagine yourself to where you want to be. You have to create where you want to be in your life in your mind first, see what no one else can see, and speak, create, and work what only you can imagine into existence. You especially have to do this when you don't see around you what you aspire to be, see, or do.
The inability to do this is what I would call "poverty of imagination." I see it all around me.
I even accused a dear friend of mine of suffering from this. She was taken aback, offended. I told her that, in imagining all the possible ways a legal conflict could be settled to the benefit of her client, she failed to imagine other options for no other reason than that they had never been done before.
"That, my friend," I declared, "is poverty of imagination."
I then told her the story of my dad and uncle that epitomized poverty of imagination, as told to me by one of my younger uncles.
When my dad and my uncle, his next oldest brother in age, were young children, they picked cotton alongside my widowed grandmother in the rural South during the 1930's. My uncle said to my dad, "When we grow up, we're going to be rich, so rich that our mama is going to pick cotton in a SILK dress, not burlap!" My dad agreed.
Neither of them could imagine the possibility of being so rich that their mother, my grandmother, would not have to pick cotton at all.
Poverty of imagination. And poverty of imagination is worse than poverty of one's real life situation because the failure to imagine yourself out of your present circumstances will keep you in your present circumstances, no matter what they are. Even if those circumstances are not dire, if they are not what you want, and what you want doesn't exist, you have to imagine your way out. Your imagination is the only way out because everything starts with an idea and an intention.
I've seen this with family members who immediately disqualify themselves from a position they're interviewing for because they can't imagine that the hiring powers that be would hire them. I see this in folks who can't imagine doing anything other than the work they're doing that they hate. I see it when I sit in meetings and hear coworkers say, "We've just never done it that way before."
Poverty. Of. Imagination.
I believe poverty of imagination is a sin against one's self. Why? Who gave you that imagination? GOD! HE put that ideas in YOU. HE gives you the ability to imagine something different than your circumstances. When you don't even try to imagine something different or when you reject something different simply because you've never seen it done before, it's like saying to God, "Nah, I'm good. What You, Father God, have in store for me? Nah, I'll pass."
REALLY? Because what HE has for you is for YOU. And HE isn't always going to make it appear in the physical realm. HE puts it in your mind. It's there for you to imagine, if and only if you are open to it. If, in the words of The Rock, you are smelling what the Creator is cooking.
Are you?
I'm as guilty as the next person of poverty of imagination. Right now, there are so many changes happening at my current workplace that I have been asked by coworkers whether I will be staying to see those changes through, whether I have any other plans that would cause me to jump ship, so to speak. They tell me that the skills and exposure I have gained in my current situation make me extremely marketable as an attorney. They say these things with what looks like a mixture of curiosity and fear in their eyes.
I told my coworkers that, no, I have no plans to leave until I finish the projects I started.
And then I broke free from my poverty of imagination and spoke my next phase of life into existence by saying this:
"But this is my last legal job."
Showing posts with label goals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label goals. Show all posts
My Only Resolution for 2014: To Use What I Have
As we approach the beginning of a new year, the default mode for most of us, myself included, is to draw up plans for the coming year. Many of us have fallen away from those plans in the past, myself included. This year, I've decided to keep it simple, making one resolution and only one for 2014: To use what I have.
The idea came to me when I thought about how I had organized my pantry and, to my detriment, had to throw out a lot of food that had expired. I wasted a lot of food out of sheer disorganization. I could have fed myself, BMNB, and a whole host of others if I had donated the food before it expired. I decided going forward to use what I have -- to look in my pantry before making grocery lists or find recipes using what I already have.
The idea of using what you have applies to more than food in your pantry. Many times I think that if I buy this or that new gadget (Zumba DVD) or pay money for something I already have (a gym membership near my new job despite the fact that my neighborhood clubhouse has a well-equipped gym I already pay for with HOA fees), that I'm more likely to use those things. Tell that to the 7-part Gaiam Yoga series tape (yes, I have a DVD player that also plays VHS tapes) and the more than 60 workout tapes and DVDs I have, not counting the elliptical machine, aerobic step, Windsor Pilates strap, dumb bells, two inflatable exercise balls, yoga blocks and countless yoga mats I already have. If I merely used what I have (I have enough exercise DVDs and videos to do a different one every day for two months), I would have already reached my fitness and weight loss goals.
Just as the food was always in my pantry and the exercise equipment always in my house, what I need to accomplish whatever it is I set my mind to, I already have. I simply have to use it.
Using what I have isn't just about accomplishing things; it's also about the joy that comes from using the gifts that God gave me. If I had to describe myself, I would describe myself as a creator. I like creating things, whether through writing, crocheting, cooking, decorating, starting a business, brainstorming with friends or leading. I like figuring out what I need to do to make something out of nothing other than an idea and then doing it. And I'm pretty good at these things and enjoy doing them.
When you think of it, why would God give you a gift if he didn't want you to use it? And what a joy we get from using those gifts! I recently saw a video on Facebook in which the narrator said that the richest place in the world was the cemetery because it was full of all the unused talents and dreams that people had taken with them to the grave. The video exhorted us to, like a car driving a fumes, "end our lives on E," having used up all the gifts and dreams God gave us. Word.
My wish for all of you dear readers and myself is that we use the gifts God has given us. . . as well as all those Billy Blank Tae-Bo VHS tapes and hidden cans of salsa in the pantry.
Happy New Year!
The idea came to me when I thought about how I had organized my pantry and, to my detriment, had to throw out a lot of food that had expired. I wasted a lot of food out of sheer disorganization. I could have fed myself, BMNB, and a whole host of others if I had donated the food before it expired. I decided going forward to use what I have -- to look in my pantry before making grocery lists or find recipes using what I already have.
The idea of using what you have applies to more than food in your pantry. Many times I think that if I buy this or that new gadget (Zumba DVD) or pay money for something I already have (a gym membership near my new job despite the fact that my neighborhood clubhouse has a well-equipped gym I already pay for with HOA fees), that I'm more likely to use those things. Tell that to the 7-part Gaiam Yoga series tape (yes, I have a DVD player that also plays VHS tapes) and the more than 60 workout tapes and DVDs I have, not counting the elliptical machine, aerobic step, Windsor Pilates strap, dumb bells, two inflatable exercise balls, yoga blocks and countless yoga mats I already have. If I merely used what I have (I have enough exercise DVDs and videos to do a different one every day for two months), I would have already reached my fitness and weight loss goals.
Just as the food was always in my pantry and the exercise equipment always in my house, what I need to accomplish whatever it is I set my mind to, I already have. I simply have to use it.
Using what I have isn't just about accomplishing things; it's also about the joy that comes from using the gifts that God gave me. If I had to describe myself, I would describe myself as a creator. I like creating things, whether through writing, crocheting, cooking, decorating, starting a business, brainstorming with friends or leading. I like figuring out what I need to do to make something out of nothing other than an idea and then doing it. And I'm pretty good at these things and enjoy doing them.
When you think of it, why would God give you a gift if he didn't want you to use it? And what a joy we get from using those gifts! I recently saw a video on Facebook in which the narrator said that the richest place in the world was the cemetery because it was full of all the unused talents and dreams that people had taken with them to the grave. The video exhorted us to, like a car driving a fumes, "end our lives on E," having used up all the gifts and dreams God gave us. Word.
My wish for all of you dear readers and myself is that we use the gifts God has given us. . . as well as all those Billy Blank Tae-Bo VHS tapes and hidden cans of salsa in the pantry.
Happy New Year!
What I'll Do Differently in 2009
A new year, a new beginning. Oprah’s getting back on the weight loss wagon and trying to help us all do the same. In less than a month we’ll be rid of W. The winds of change are a’blowin’ . . .
I look at each new year as the chance to get things right. To do better than I did last year. That’s not to say that I succeed, but there’s something about a freshly minted year that makes me think I can.
So, what will I do differently in 2009? Well, I have some goals and some resolutions.
My number one resolution? I resolve to not try to change people. I won’t try to keep my co-workers from drinking day-old warmed over Starbucks coffee. I won’t try to make my husband do his fair share of the cooking because it’s never going to happen. I won’t try to make young parents in my family realize that the education of their children is far too important to leave primarily to the government. I won’t snipe back at family members who launch verbal attacks on me or my husband. I won’t try to get my brother to stop smoking. I won’t try to help solve people’s problems when they are resolutely entrenched in the pattern of behavior that results in those same problems. I can’t change other people, so the best I can do is change how I deal with them.
Which leads to my number two resolution: I won’t be around people who get on my nerves unless I’m being paid to do so. And it doesn’t take much to get on my nerves these days -- snarky family members, stupid people, self-made victims, you name it. And I won’t enable anyone either. Can’t seem to handle your money? Well, you can’t have any of mine. I’ve got my own debts.
Third, I will not organize anything that I wouldn’t want to attend myself. No family reunions, no cruises with people I wouldn’t want to be on land with for seven days, much less at sea with. I will back away from the calendaring function on Outlook and the task list on my phone. If BMNB or anyone else wants a get-together planned, they can pull out their Blackberries and handle their business.
Fourth, I resolve to have more fun. To hop on an Amtrak train just to watch the scenery go by. To watch “Ghosthunter” marathons I’ve recorded and lay fat and happy on my sofa. To get my hair and nails done, get massages, and get facials just because they make me feel good. To work on my novel in the library at the UCSF Med School just to see the panoramic views. To spend the Christmas holidays away from home, preferably in Maui.
As for goals, they are:
1) Lose 40 pounds.
2) Run the Bay-to-Breakers.
3) Finish my novel.
4) Organize my home.
5) Increase my savings to cover x months of expenses (the x is my business).
6) Pay off my credit cards.
Let’s see how it goes . . . . .
I look at each new year as the chance to get things right. To do better than I did last year. That’s not to say that I succeed, but there’s something about a freshly minted year that makes me think I can.
So, what will I do differently in 2009? Well, I have some goals and some resolutions.
My number one resolution? I resolve to not try to change people. I won’t try to keep my co-workers from drinking day-old warmed over Starbucks coffee. I won’t try to make my husband do his fair share of the cooking because it’s never going to happen. I won’t try to make young parents in my family realize that the education of their children is far too important to leave primarily to the government. I won’t snipe back at family members who launch verbal attacks on me or my husband. I won’t try to get my brother to stop smoking. I won’t try to help solve people’s problems when they are resolutely entrenched in the pattern of behavior that results in those same problems. I can’t change other people, so the best I can do is change how I deal with them.
Which leads to my number two resolution: I won’t be around people who get on my nerves unless I’m being paid to do so. And it doesn’t take much to get on my nerves these days -- snarky family members, stupid people, self-made victims, you name it. And I won’t enable anyone either. Can’t seem to handle your money? Well, you can’t have any of mine. I’ve got my own debts.
Third, I will not organize anything that I wouldn’t want to attend myself. No family reunions, no cruises with people I wouldn’t want to be on land with for seven days, much less at sea with. I will back away from the calendaring function on Outlook and the task list on my phone. If BMNB or anyone else wants a get-together planned, they can pull out their Blackberries and handle their business.
Fourth, I resolve to have more fun. To hop on an Amtrak train just to watch the scenery go by. To watch “Ghosthunter” marathons I’ve recorded and lay fat and happy on my sofa. To get my hair and nails done, get massages, and get facials just because they make me feel good. To work on my novel in the library at the UCSF Med School just to see the panoramic views. To spend the Christmas holidays away from home, preferably in Maui.
As for goals, they are:
1) Lose 40 pounds.
2) Run the Bay-to-Breakers.
3) Finish my novel.
4) Organize my home.
5) Increase my savings to cover x months of expenses (the x is my business).
6) Pay off my credit cards.
Let’s see how it goes . . . . .
Seasons of Noes, With Apologies to Jonathon Larson
Fifty thousand six hundred forty words
How do you measure, measure a month . . .
Measure in Noes . . . . .
Adapted from "Seasons of Love" from the Broadway musical "Rent" (With apologies to Jonathon Larson)
Well, I did it. With 50,640 words, I crossed the National Novel Writing Month (nanowrimo.org) finish line. I completed the competition, like thousands of others, winning nothing more than a PDF'd certificate and bragging rights.
But I won so much more.
This is my first "Nanowrimo," and, in my estimation, you cannot finish Nanowrimo unless you fully embrace the second syllable of the quasi-acronym -- that is, the word "no." In order to make time to work on my novel, which has been kicking around my head and in various short stories for more than nine years, I had to say a lot of "noes" to a lot of people and things:
No, I won't be cooking Thanksgiving dinner this year, but I'll bring a bottle of wine to yours if you invite me.
No, I can't attend the neighborhood association ordinance committee meeting.
No, I won't be coming to family games night -- but I'll catch you the next time around.
No, I won't be driving to Oregon with you for your birthday, but here are the car keys -- knock yourself out with the satellite radio.
And with each "no," I became a more conscious consumer of my own life. For the past few years, I've carried more than my fair share of the burdens that come from living connected to others, through calamitous events, occurrences not of my choosing, and some bad choices I made. With each moment that I failed to say "no" and reclaim some of my life for the pursuit of my own goals and dreams, I started living less consciously, less aware of the choice I had effectively made to trade off time from my life to make others happy, even if I didn't achieve my own goals and dreams. Not acceptable.
I found that once I started saying "no," not only did it get easier to say "no" more often, people starting respecting my "no." They stopped trying to negotiate with me or reason me out of my "no." The more often I said it, the less I had to say anything more than "no."
I also found that when you state your goals and dreams to others, they often will put aside what they're doing to help you. Let them. Lord knows you've probably done more than your fair share for them. Once I explained Nanowrimo to BMNB and why finishing it mattered so much for me, he put aside some of the things he was doing in order to pitch in and keep the household running in my absence. Because he knew it mattered to me. He's a gem, I tell you.
Finally, I learned not to "waste my pretty." I came across this aphorism from the MySpace page of actress Terri J. Vaughn, whom you may remember from the "Steve Harvey Show." Her website features a documentary she directed on black actresses entitled, "Angels Can't Help But Laugh," and in it, one the actresses dispenses this advice she received from one of her elders: Don't waste your pretty. Whatever your "pretty" is -- a gift with children, sculpture, dance, corporate mergers, whatever, don't waste it. Don't waste your pretty. I think writing is my gift, and I'm determined not to waste it.
So, how many of you are "wasting your pretty" because you can't seem to say "no" and make your dreams and goals a priority? And don't give me that "I'm too old" excuse. Anna Julia Cooper, the noted African American woman scholar, earned her Ph.D. from the Sorbonne at the age of 65! She then had the audacity to live for another 40 years, leaving this world at the ripe old age of 105. No matter your age, don't waste your pretty, even if it means saying "no" to things that get in the way and don't really serve you.
I received the following message from the folks at Nanowrimo upon completion of the competition:
So it's official.
Our word-counting robots have analyzed your November novel, and they've delivered their final, binding assessment: Winner.
You did it! You did it! You did it!
This was, without a doubt, one of the hardest years on record for NaNoWriMo participants. At some point in the literary marathon, most of your fellow writers fell by the wayside. They lost their books to work, to family, to school, and to the hundreds of other distractions and interruptions that tend to shutter creative undertakings like NaNoWriMo.
But not you. Not this year.
This November, you set out with the ridiculously ambitious goal of bringing an entire world into existence in just 30 days. When the going got tough, you got writing. Now you're one of the few souls who can look back on 2007 as the year you were brave enough to enter the world's largest writing contest, and disciplined enough to emerge a winner.
We salute your imagination and perseverance. The question we ask you now is this: If you were able to write a not-horrible novel in 30 days, what else can you do? The book you wrote this month is just the beginning.
From here on out, the sky's the limit.
Indeed, it is. With a trail of "noes" behind me and my goals and dreams ahead of me. I'm thinking of doing "Scriptfrenzy," the television and stage script version of Nanowrimo, held each April.
Whatever your pretty is, don't waste it. Even if you have to tell a whole lot of people "no."
How do you measure, measure a month . . .
Measure in Noes . . . . .
Adapted from "Seasons of Love" from the Broadway musical "Rent" (With apologies to Jonathon Larson)
Well, I did it. With 50,640 words, I crossed the National Novel Writing Month (nanowrimo.org) finish line. I completed the competition, like thousands of others, winning nothing more than a PDF'd certificate and bragging rights.
But I won so much more.
This is my first "Nanowrimo," and, in my estimation, you cannot finish Nanowrimo unless you fully embrace the second syllable of the quasi-acronym -- that is, the word "no." In order to make time to work on my novel, which has been kicking around my head and in various short stories for more than nine years, I had to say a lot of "noes" to a lot of people and things:
No, I won't be cooking Thanksgiving dinner this year, but I'll bring a bottle of wine to yours if you invite me.
No, I can't attend the neighborhood association ordinance committee meeting.
No, I won't be coming to family games night -- but I'll catch you the next time around.
No, I won't be driving to Oregon with you for your birthday, but here are the car keys -- knock yourself out with the satellite radio.
And with each "no," I became a more conscious consumer of my own life. For the past few years, I've carried more than my fair share of the burdens that come from living connected to others, through calamitous events, occurrences not of my choosing, and some bad choices I made. With each moment that I failed to say "no" and reclaim some of my life for the pursuit of my own goals and dreams, I started living less consciously, less aware of the choice I had effectively made to trade off time from my life to make others happy, even if I didn't achieve my own goals and dreams. Not acceptable.
I found that once I started saying "no," not only did it get easier to say "no" more often, people starting respecting my "no." They stopped trying to negotiate with me or reason me out of my "no." The more often I said it, the less I had to say anything more than "no."
I also found that when you state your goals and dreams to others, they often will put aside what they're doing to help you. Let them. Lord knows you've probably done more than your fair share for them. Once I explained Nanowrimo to BMNB and why finishing it mattered so much for me, he put aside some of the things he was doing in order to pitch in and keep the household running in my absence. Because he knew it mattered to me. He's a gem, I tell you.
Finally, I learned not to "waste my pretty." I came across this aphorism from the MySpace page of actress Terri J. Vaughn, whom you may remember from the "Steve Harvey Show." Her website features a documentary she directed on black actresses entitled, "Angels Can't Help But Laugh," and in it, one the actresses dispenses this advice she received from one of her elders: Don't waste your pretty. Whatever your "pretty" is -- a gift with children, sculpture, dance, corporate mergers, whatever, don't waste it. Don't waste your pretty. I think writing is my gift, and I'm determined not to waste it.
So, how many of you are "wasting your pretty" because you can't seem to say "no" and make your dreams and goals a priority? And don't give me that "I'm too old" excuse. Anna Julia Cooper, the noted African American woman scholar, earned her Ph.D. from the Sorbonne at the age of 65! She then had the audacity to live for another 40 years, leaving this world at the ripe old age of 105. No matter your age, don't waste your pretty, even if it means saying "no" to things that get in the way and don't really serve you.
I received the following message from the folks at Nanowrimo upon completion of the competition:
So it's official.
Our word-counting robots have analyzed your November novel, and they've delivered their final, binding assessment: Winner.
You did it! You did it! You did it!
This was, without a doubt, one of the hardest years on record for NaNoWriMo participants. At some point in the literary marathon, most of your fellow writers fell by the wayside. They lost their books to work, to family, to school, and to the hundreds of other distractions and interruptions that tend to shutter creative undertakings like NaNoWriMo.
But not you. Not this year.
This November, you set out with the ridiculously ambitious goal of bringing an entire world into existence in just 30 days. When the going got tough, you got writing. Now you're one of the few souls who can look back on 2007 as the year you were brave enough to enter the world's largest writing contest, and disciplined enough to emerge a winner.
We salute your imagination and perseverance. The question we ask you now is this: If you were able to write a not-horrible novel in 30 days, what else can you do? The book you wrote this month is just the beginning.
From here on out, the sky's the limit.
Indeed, it is. With a trail of "noes" behind me and my goals and dreams ahead of me. I'm thinking of doing "Scriptfrenzy," the television and stage script version of Nanowrimo, held each April.
Whatever your pretty is, don't waste it. Even if you have to tell a whole lot of people "no."
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