A Personal Quest

It has been three days since my last post.

I'm feeling guilty. I had intended to be more consistent. I had intended to put aesthetics over practicality on a regular basis -- even if that action takes place only in my mind.

I should make clear that, despite my quest for "freedom," I have no desire to abandon the mundane aspects of my life. Since my last post, I have changed 20+ diapers, loaded and unloaded the dishwasher three times, and done 12 loads of laundry. I have attended one school meeting, one soccer practice, and two soccer games, and I have tucked three boys into bed for three nights in a row. While I could easily live without the diapers, the dishes, and the laundry, I could not so easily survive without the boys who create the dirty diapers, dishes, and laundry.

So when I say that I want to affirm "my need to believe in freedom and endless possibilities," the "freedom" to which I refer has more to do with intellectual freedom and balance. It has more to do with believing in myself and acting upon that belief, while I perform the mundane tasks that are part of life.

Part of my quest involves finding a means to bring the "creative" me into balance with the "day-to-day-I-have-too-much-to-do" me. I took the first step when I chose not to return to full-time employment after the birth of my third son. Instead, I stayed home and I wrote while he slept. All went well at first, but as nap time grew shorter, so did the time I could devote to writing.

I also must admit that exchanging a consistent pay check for freelance was a difficult transition. As my mortgage payment approaches each month, my inner balance leans back toward practicality. I'm still writing, but I find myself once again writing to make a living rather than writing to fill any inner need.

So, it seems my attempt to place aesthetics over practicality is a rather lofty one. Attainable, but lofty. It may take a very long time; my posts may sometimes be spaced several days apart. But life -- and art -- have more to do with the journey than the destination.

The author is a freelance writer, a teacher, and the mother of three boys. Her website, The Writing Tutor, provides writing tips and writing guides, as well as lesson plans and writing assignments.

The Reading Tree Sets Me Free

I suppose my first entry ever should explain my title...

I am new to blogging -- and I am anxious to get started. I've found a host, and I am now staring at the registration page. It is asking me for the title of my blog. I've spent some time thinking about content, but I have not even considered a title. Yet without one, I can't even complete the registration process.

So I sit and think. The writer in me tries to think of something significant, something meaningful. The mother in me looks at the clock and counts the hours until I must wake my kids up for school. Then I calculate the number of hours of sleep I will get if I continue to stare at my computer worrying about significance.

I am also a perfectionist, so I continue to sit, stare, and think.

I have a file of ideas that I keep near my computer. Don't ask me why I don't take it out and read it, but instead, I sit trying to recall the contents.

My mind drifts to a conversation I had with my son this afternoon. He prefaced his request by telling me that he knew it "sounded weird," then he explained that there is a quiet place under a tree at the park where he likes to sit. He explained that he really likes how the wind blows around him when he sits there, and he wanted to know if he could go there to read his book. I told him I didn't think it was weird at all because I once had a similar place where I liked to read.

I grab a pen and paper -- the registration screen is still up on my computer screen -- and I write. The place where I once liked to read was one of the items on my idea list. Here is my significance.

It may sound "weird" to some, but it makes perfect sense to me. I spent hours reading in that tree, and I can still feel the wind gently ruffle my hair. To me, that tree represents freedom and endless possibilities. Without even realizing it, I have passed that desire -- that longing -- on to my son. For a long time, I forgot (or suppressed) my need to believe in freedom and endless possibilities. She Reads in a Tree is my affirmation that endless possibilities do exist and that aesthetics reign over practicality.

The author is a freelance writer, a teacher, and the mother of three boys. Her website, The Writing Tutor, provides writing tips and writing guides, as well as lesson plans and writing assignments.