When I Was Little

Me (6, on right) and my sister, c. 1972 

It's so easy to get discouraged about achieving big goals: losing weight, writing a book, running a marathon, for examples. Sometimes they loom so large and feel outside the grasp of any one person living in the real-life world of working, paying bills, mowing the lawn, feeding kids, cleaning house.

I don't have any big achievements to report. However, I keep re-teaching myself the power of consistency and breaking down big goals into small, achievable outcomes.

For the last few months I have been writing twice a week. That adds up to only a few hours of writing and sometimes only a few paragraphs a week that I like. But I feel that through this consistent effort, small though it is, I am setting a good practice for myself. Each time I write it seems a little easier to step into and ride the creative waves.

I love feeling a part of a community of writers in my weekly writing group and the energy we generate at each meeting. I get so much inspiration from the stories I hear in the group. I have this empowering sense of the infinite number of stories there are to tell and ways to tell them. You can read some of these stories at paintedparrot, including a recent submission of mine: "When I Was Little."