When It Feels Like You'll Never Get There

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you've probably read about my goal of writing a novel.  It's not all that unusual a dream, and truth be told, I'm not completely sure why I have it.

I've always liked writing.  I wrote a bit in my early teenage years - nothing very good - and in high school, I stood out among my peers in several writing assignments.  I've written a few articles for various blogs and had a piece published in the online magazine, Venture (no longer around.)  I've spent much of the last six years doing some form of writing.  I've blogged here off and on, and done a lot of reading about writing and thinking about writing.  And I've also done a decent amount of  actual writing.

My first novel attempt (which doesn't even deserve that name) was little more than me figuring out how not to write a book.

My second, the book I'm working on now, deserves the title of novel.  It's been brainstormed and trashed.  Written and re-written.   Outlined and scratched and re-outlined.  I don't know how many drafts of this story I've been through to uncover the actual story that I am telling now.  I'm nearly 100,000 words in, and while I know for certain that I have the real story here, I'm still pretty far off from finishing it.

And that's the part I'm struggling with.

January Round-Up

Welcome to my first ever monthly round-up, where I get to rave on all the awesomeness I've been digging this past month.

Kindness Matters

I recently read the book by Jonathan Fields How to Live a Good Life.  While I plan on doing a more in-depth recap soon, I wanted to share a piece of the book that really stood out to me.

In the section on contribution buckets, Jonathan writes under the sub-heading Give to Glow,

"Turns out even the mere thought of being of service to others activates the part of the brain that releases the feel-good neurotransmitter dopamine.  That makes us feel great and want to do more.  It triggers an enhanced sense of purpose and well-being and gives us that deeply yearned-for feeling that we matter.  That the things we do, at least in the moment, have meaning.

"Giving, it turns out, not only begets more giving, feeling good, and wanting to do more, but also deepens our sense of purpose."

Effin Good

If you saw my recent post on Instagram, you’ve seen this quote before.  I just love it.  Partly because it’s a little edgy and I’m a mom of three young kids, and I like a little edge now and then.  But mostly, I love this quote because it reminds me that it’s okay to try something new, and to be – and this is the kicker – just okay at it.  To be good enough. 

To do something before we’re ready.  To put something “out there” while we’re still a little unsure about it.  To try our best, and let our best be enough.  Even if that means that later, looking back, we see how truly horrible our best used to be.  That’s all a part of the process, a part of life.  If we wait until we’re ready, until everything is perfect before we begin, we’ll never do a damn thing.  And that’s not the life I want.

We are all broken and that's okay

Leonard Cohen, Anthem

I've been thinking about how each of us has our own scars, our own cracks, our own broken bits which we may hide or cover or bury deep within us.  Maybe not even allowing our spouses, or friends, or even ourselves to see them, to acknowledge them.  The crack may be have formed long ago in childhood, and as each year passes, the pressures of life press on it, forcing it to expand outward.  And we can keep ignoring it, but that doesn't change the fact that it's there.  Perhaps the cracks we have are from loss, from a broken heart.  Maybe we are so afraid of letting them surface that we hide them from others and ourselves.  Maybe we numb out to keep from feeling them.  There are drugs, and alcohol, food and online shopping.  Any number of things we can use to push the feelings down, to try to fill the cracks.

2016 Reading Recap

At the beginning of 2016, I had a list of books I wanted to read.  Some were books we already had at home, but I'd never gotten around to reading.  (Anyone else order the penny books on Amazon? That's my vice.)

I didn't get to every book on my list, and some were added along the way.  Here's a list of every book I read last year.  Most I finished, but I don't force myself to finish a book if I've read far enough into it to realize it's just not for me.

Finding Meditation at the Kitchen Sink

Lately, I've been finding the admonition to meditate nearly everywhere I look.  Articles, quotes, blog posts, and news bits, it seems the universe is telling me meditation is something I need in my life.  I don't love the word meditation - for me, it tends to bring on images of saints or very religious people sitting in silence.  It's a little eerie, a bit weird and the whole idea makes me a tad uncomfortable.  However, I can't deny the benefits that come from a still mind.  Connecting with my inner self, taking the time to analyze my feelings and thoughts, it's all very positive and an impetus to personal growth.  After all, how can I know which areas in my life I need to put work into if I never take the time to think about how things are going?  

The Thing I'm Most Guilty Of As A Parent

There was never much question in my mind that I'd be an amazing mother.  From early childhood, I clearly recall this intense desire for children.  It was the one thing that I knew I was meant for.  That I'd be perfect for.

Becoming Authentically Me

It's funny to think about putting effort into becoming myself, but that's sort of where I've been heading for a while now.  I think as we grow up, enter adulthood, we sort of wait around, flailing in my case, trying to figure out how to reconcile what we've learned about life and the world and how we should act, even who we should be, with the person we feel ourselves growing into.

The Happiness Project

Last week we took a trip to the beach, and I brought along a new book as I usually do.  This book was entitled The Happiness Project.  I devoured that book, and it set in motion all kinds of things in my mind.  I won't go into all the details of the book here, but I will say that it inspired me to take a look at my life and find ways to create happiness.  Not that I'm particularly unhappy, the opposite in fact, but I think it's easy for us to become bogged down in the daily goings-on, the routines and rituals of daily life and to let our goals for our lives get a little lost in the shuffle.  I'm certainly in that place now, and I have been for a while.  

I think when I created this blog, I hoped I would find a place to connect with others, to put down my feelings so that I myself could recognize what I was feeling, to reconnect with my love of journaling.  But as it turned out, the blog quickly became something I felt compelled to do, the perfectionist in me decided what I would right about, and I always questioned whether or not what I wrote was good enough or if anyone would like it.  But as I read through The Happiness Project, I realized that I needed to get back to the core of who I am.  The girl that loves to write without worrying about what other people think.  That's what I want this blog to be about.  To give me a vehicle for growth and change and evolution.  A safe space for me to let out my feelings, my fears, my happinesses without worrying about judgement, mostly without judging myself.  It isn't easy to erase thirty years of obsessiveness and perfectionism, but it's one of my goals, one that I will more than likely continue working on for the rest of my life.

The quote above really struck a chord with me.  Life isn't about finding happiness; happiness is not some elusive thing which, once attained, is constant and steady and easy.  Happiness is those fleeting moments, the ones that almost slip by unnoticed.  Watching my two-year-old eating cherrios with a serving spoon.  Listening to my daughters sing along with one of my favorite songs.  Catching a text from my husband with a simple ILY (our code for I Love You.)  The moments when you don't even realize you have a huge grin on your face until someone asks you why you're smiling.  If I'm not careful, those moments pass by and I don't even appreciate them.  When I'm rushing, or "busy", or frustrated, or whatever I am in the moment, if I'm not present, I lose those little gifts of happiness.  Above all, I want to look less, but see more.  Notice life.  Soak in the happiness and peace and craziness and love that's bursting around me.  

The book has spurred me to begin working on my own sort of Happiness Project, of which this blog will be a part.  I'm hoping to explore more ways in which I can relish in the happiness of my life now, as well as reconnect to things which used to bring me joy, but which I've let fall out of my life for some reason.  I also plan on thinking about things I can let go of that are impeding true happiness for me.  

I'm excited for the things to come!

-xoxo-

An Ode to my Twenties

Tomorrow is my thirtieth birthday.  I've kind of been waiting for this day for a while now, with excited anticipation, expecting to – as everyone I've heard talk about it says – feel a boost in confidence, finally know who I am, where I fit, what I'm supposed to be doing with my life.  To finally be comfortable within my own skin.  I must admit, as this milestone has approached, I seen myself falling into some of these new roles almost automatically, watching as the fog of my childish naivety cleared and the warming rays of the woman I was becoming began shining in on my life.  It's been both unnerving and comforting, this leaving behind of my early adulthood.  Like a ship sailing into an unknown harbor, unable to stop, and not even wanting to, but still, finding the fear of what awaits ahead a bit daunting.  

My twenties were both beautiful and tragic, mundane at times, and absolutely charged with life at others.  It's always like that, no matter where you are in the arc of life.  The waves of change bringing ebbs and flows, leaving me, at times, desperately low only to raise me to the highest of highs when I didn't see it coming.  In my early twenties, my life shifted in a way I'd never imagined it would.  It is not an exaggeration to say that those first few years drastically altered my life's course.  I got my heart broken, ripped out and torn to unrecognizable pieces.  I got very lost in my life.  I was, for the first time ever, completely alone, and in that moment of desolation, I found the most beautiful friendship, one within my own heart.  It took time for those wounds to heal, the truth is there is much hurt that I still carry with me from those years, hurt that can never be undone.  But it was that tragedy that led me to find myself.  And so it was worth it.  

I must celebrate the wonderful things that happened during this last decade of my life.  I met my best friend, who would go on to become my husband and make me the mother I'd always dreamed of becoming.  Through him, I rediscovered myself all over again.  It's as if my life has been a series of finding myself, seeing new facets of being through the eyes of those I love.  By far the biggest change my twenties brought me were the births of my three beauties, my children.  I have learned so much through motherhood, and I continue to learn from them every single day.  The sage wisdom of such young souls astounds me.  It's in the quiet moments with them that I get a peak into the magic of life.  There is nothing more spectacular that watching life unfold before my eyes, it has been my privilege to have spent these last six years watching my babies grow.  Through all the frustration, through the trials, through the work and the worries and the mundane, through everything that is difficult and painful about parenting, there is nothing so dark that the light of my children's faces can't outshine it.  There are a thousand beautiful moments for every hard one, and hundreds of peaceful memories to outweigh the chaotic ones.  My twenties taught me to see the sparkle of life, even when everything else seems shrouded in darkness.  They shine twinkling light into my life; my children are my stars.  

There are so many things I still want for my life, so much I'm looking forward to doing in this decade to come.  Fulfilling my life's dream of becoming an author.  Being present in the moment.  Strengthening and deepening my most important relationships.  Watching and guiding my children as they seek to find their way.  There is so much ahead, too much to look forward to to be sad to say goodbye.  So I bid you farewell, my twenties, and I open my arms wide and embrace the year to come.

the prisms of my life

by brianne wiseman

for the sun is here, in her
as she shines out her enchanting warmth
it's in her lavender eyes
engrossed in the vastness of her expansive creativity
it's in her enveloping hugs
always like it's the first hug she's ever felt
it's in her soulful smiles
her exaggerated waves when she first sees me in the carpool line
it's in her graceful girliness
her empathy, her ever-evolving sense of self, her bravery
that child is a prism of rainbows
glowing at me, her fierce light dancing all around her.

the sun is here, in her too
as she tries desperately to block out the oppressive clouds
it's in her grey eyes
full of tearful apologies, the depth of her forgiveness, the ease of her forgets
it's in her mindful breaths
her fragile peace breaking through waves of wild, red anger
it's in her simple kisses
the fullness of her cuddles, how her heart is never full enough
it's in her requests for back rubs
her face tucked tightly into my neck, never, never, close enough
that child is a prism of rainbows
glowing furiously despite her struggles, letting her enchanting light out

it's here again, in him
as he discovers the adventures beyond home and the joys of taking chances
it's in his electric eyes
the way he runs too fast to me each morning, crashing into my legs
it's in the messy halo of yellow hair
in his rocks and sticks and how he never wants to wear a shirt, but always, always, shoes
it's in his unbelievably loud sirens
his endless imagination, his curiosity, his nighttime cuddles, his fish lip kisses
it's in his i'm tired too and his momma hold me
when he's already perched in my lap, a little bird
that child is a prism of rainbows,
illuminating the world and lighting up my life with his charming ways

they are the prisms of my life
reflecting their sparks into my soul
when the rain washes down deluges upon me

dreaming & pretending

by brianne wiseman

i make their meals & shush their cries
i clean their messes & give them baths
i tie their shoes & do their laundry
i change their diapers & brush their hair
then i look in the mirror and wonder
what am i doing here?

i always thought i would belong in this life
but the days of screaming & fighting & lonely car rides all together
when nothing i do is ever nearly enough
i wonder
what am i doing here?

i should be able to comfort her
but i don't even want to try anymore
i should be the one in charge
but i am not, not even close
i should be enriching their lives
but am i stifling them instead?
i should be so much that so often i'm not
and i think
what am i doing here?

as a child, i dreamed of motherhood in all its glorious charm
beautiful beings devoted to me, our mutual love palpable
both of us eager to please, just to witness the other smile
and life would be a painting, on the banks of paradise

as a mother, the reality is often harsh and tiresome
it's trying my hardest to please each one, only to make them all unhappy
it's waiting for a thank you mom that's never going to come
it's you always and you never and i love you and i hate you

and in my reality i've had to find my paradise
ushering in both the greyest of skies and the most magnificent rainbows
and i could sit here and pretend to only see the rainbows
life is a lonely, long day sprinkled with prisms of brilliance

and i choose to watch the prisms dance

warm sheet

by brianne wiseman

your eyelashes lay gently on your rosy cheeks
your chest falls slowly up... and down... up... and down...
there is silence in the air, so quiet
the only sound, your pillowy exhalations

your hands folded neatly beneath your cheek
elbows tucked in tight to you
your chestnut hair dances around your face
framing your porcelain features in its shiny smoothness

not long ago, my child, you were a baby in my arms
chubby cheeks, curious eyes, but always, always, tucked in to me
your fingers curled magnetically around mine
like pieces of a puzzle, fitting together seamlessly

then I looked up and out of nowhere, you were flitting about with inescapable tenacity
shattering my life into a thousand shades of beauty, each mirrored by the next
a little firefly, glowing brightly, always lighting her own way
seeing the world for the first time with fresh blue eyes

since the first moment, I've been so scared to let go of you, my girl
so afraid of all the wonders I'll miss
not wanting to waste even a moment being away from you
my little world, my soul child

but I needn't worry, for here you are
you always return to me, with new adventures and big plans
you fall into me, each night hugging me tighter than the last
and when I least expect it, you say I smell like home

I will always be your home, my sweet, precious girl
you can cover yourself in the warm sheet of my heart

say yes to life

by brianne wiseman

say yes to change
say yes to uncertainty
say yes to deep hurt
say yes to even deeper love

say yes to simplicity
say yes to wonder
say yes to chaos
say yes to calm

say yes to a few more minutes
say yes to right now
say yes to tighter hugs
say yes to hurt feelings

say yes to intention
say yes to spontaneity
say yes to growth
say yes to good enough

say yes to quiet
say yes to boisterous play
say yes to vulnerability
say yes to bravery

say yes to letting them take their time
say yes to making the time
say yes to finding your happy
say yes to allowing your sad

say yes to discovery
say yes to evolution
say yes to creativity
say yes to taking chances

say yes to fear
say yes to adventure
say yes to triumph
say yes to second place

say yes to relishing the moment
say yes to the little things
say yes to tucking in
say yes to everyday miracles

say yes to belly laughs
say yes to tearful eyes
say yes to new hellos
say yes to final goodbyes

say yes to dream chasing
say yes to sitting still
say yes to noticing
say yes to connecting

say yes to music
say yes to smiles
say yes to angry words
say yes to slammed doors

say yes to i love you's
say yes to rolled eyes
say yes to always being there
say yes to letting go

say yes to new births
say yes to sad endings
say yes to everything in between
say yes to life

the light & the shadows

by brianne wiseman

the light shines brightly over me
but I don't want it, I bury my face
in the shadowy sliver of emptiness
I open myself to the darkness
and let the pain come in
taking residence in my mind

it's a curious thing, this emptiness
it haunts me with each sly step
closing in on me like a thief

and steal it does, more often than not
carting away my joys, carrying off my dreams
leaving me all alone with myself

I'm here now, in this place of bitter refuge
and it's damp and dark and void of anything
but the lostness, the distance

and in the blackest of nights, I see it
but, no, that can't be, the emptiness forbids it
yet there it is; it's a faint sparkle

just a glimmer, a twinkle, but it's something
it's real.  it's hope.  it's courage.
the emptiness sees it too, this vulnerable little light
and it strides on over to snuff it out
to plunge me right back into the dark abyss
but the light doesn't dim
instead, it fades the emptiness in its embrace
and its flames burn brighter, dancing about in swirling delight

and the emptiness cannot compete

the light shines brightly over me, once again
I bathe in its warming wonder
and the emptiness is nothing but a shadowy sliver

A Little Space

I've been a bit absent from my blog for a few months.  It's not that I haven't had much to say, but rather, what I've been feeling hasn't exactly lent itself to being put into dialogue.  Life is up and down; sideways and even in reverse at times.  I told myself that this blog was about me, and it wasn't going to become another thing on my to-do list.  So it fell by the wayside for a bit.  And that's okay.

I have been struggling lately.  I haven't been able to put my finger on it precisely, but I suspect it's the simplicity, and the monotony, if I'm being honest, of everything being the same every day, for the last six years.  I don't want to come across as another complaining stay-at-home mom.  I know I'm fortunate to have been able to watch my three children grow up a little each day, right before my eyes.  Never missing a step, never missing a laugh, never missing the sweet sight of long eyelashes gracing sleeping cheeks.  I'm beyond blessed.  My family is beyond blessed.  I know this.  In my heart, I know it.

But also in my heart, there is a little space.  A space that's small, but has seemed to grow with each passing year.  A space that's calling out for something more.  Something personal.  Something other than nurturing.  Something other than home-making.  Something to fulfill my soul on a different level.  Not better than motherhood, just fulfilling in a different way.

I've been trying to find something to fill that space.  To quiet that little voice.  To fulfill the nagging needs of my heart, so that I can, once again, embrace all of the magnificence around me.  I feel like if I could just satisfy this little quiet whimper of my soul, then I would free myself to be more present as a mother, to be happier, more alive, more fun.  Because in those moments when I find the little voice quiet, I can overlook the craziness of my everyday life and focus my lens on it's magnificent majesty.  I want that more than anything.

I'm still searching for that little missing piece of fulfillment, as I think many people are.  I'm not sure if I'll find it.  I'm not sure if it isn't the sheer act of searching, of self-insight, of meditation, that just might, in the end, be the thing I was missing all along.  I don't know where I'm headed with any of this.  I just know that a wandering soul isn't always lost; sometimes one just needs to wander a bit before she can truly find her way.

In the time since I last posted, I've written several pieces in my journal.  I'm including one at the end of this post.  It feels right.

by brianne wiseman

let things be wild
let them make a mess
let them feel the world they're creating in their hands
let the majesty of this moment envelop me
let fear and anxiety lose their power over me
let things be wild
let me let go of perfection
let me lead it gracefully out the door
let my life open up to possibility
let me push past the doubts that bind me
let things be wild
let me lose control
let me laugh with sheer abandon
let the blood of living pulse deep into my soul
let belly laughs escape me, let tears of joy fall
let things be wild
let chaos give way to creation
let plans fall to the magic of spontaneity
let the what-ifs fly away on the wings of what is right now
let the beauty of this moment shine on me, sparkling
let things be wild
let me let go of expectation & comparison
let my soul seek out contentment & peace
let the nuances that suffocate happiness be set loose
let simplicity color my life with it's beautiful prism
let things be wild

Is It Ever Enough? A Frank Discussion About Body Image

I've spent the last nine months working toward an unattainable goal... my vision of the perfect body.  I'm sure you've seen her - that picture on Pinterest, the girl with ripped abs, killer arms, tight glutes, sweat pouring off her tanned, taut skin.  She looks perfect.  I think there's a little part of each of us that wishes we looked like that.  I started small.  First, I changed my diet.  I went from a junk-food, fast-food junkie to a clean eating vegan to a high protein, low carb, grain free diet.  I started counting calories and macros and figuring out what deficit I needed to get off these last ten pounds to hit my goal - an arbitrary number I chose because I liked how it sounded to weigh that much.  I started running, added in jumping jacks and crunches, then progressed to more intense circuit workouts and weight-lifting.  I started focusing on adding weight to my workouts while decreasing the number on the scale.  Anyone who knows anything about building muscle knows it's pretty difficult to simultaneously lose weight and gain muscle.  But try I did... and still am.  I've gotten addicted to working out.  I love the feeling of dripping sweat and sore muscles.  I love the gratification I get after finishing an intense workout.  I love pushing myself, even when my mind tells me to quit.  I workout an hour a day, six days a week.  If I miss my workout, I'm pissed.  My day is shot.  You might be reading all of this and thinking, “I wish I had that problem.  I hate working out.”

But growing alongside my love of working out has been an increasing dislike of my body.  It's been unexpected and crippling at times.  You see, instead of celebrating my accomplishments, I still look at myself as needing more work.  Instead of being proud that I can bust out 70 burpees, I look at my arms and wish my muscles were more prominent.  I don't see strong legs, though I am lifting weights I never imagined.  Instead, I look at my legs and I see “stubborn fat” that just won't go away.  Instead of looking at my abs and being damn proud that I can actually see my six pack (in the right light, anyway), I am depressed that my skin is scarred and stretched from three pregnancies.  Instead of being proud to have put on nearly eight pounds of muscle in the past nine months, I'm disappointed that I'm further away from my “goal weight” than when I started.  I'm less happy now as a size 2 than I ever was as a size 8.  Why?

I've gotten caught up in it.  We are all bombarded with it, the idea of “perfect”, like that's going to make us happy, or worthy, or whole.  It won't, it can't, it doesn't.  But we still feel the pressure to reach for that unreachable ideal.  Each of us carries our own set of strengths and weaknesses, our own perfections and our own flaws.  I've found myself focusing so much lately on my flaws that I can't even see all the awesomeness I used to see in me.  Time to get that back.  Time to shift my focus.  Time to stop focusing on what I'm not and be proud of who and what I am right now.  I don't have to weigh a certain number to be just right.  I'm just right already.  I don't have to see my imperfections as flaws, I can choose to see myself as perfectly imperfect, like every single person on this planet.  I don't have to work harder, eat cleaner, lose more to be enough.  I am enough already.

The Dark Eye of Perfection

I used to think that being a perfectionist was a good thing.  But nearly thirty years into my life – I've come to realize it isn't at all the thing I thought it to be.

As a child, I was often called “conscientious” by my teachers.  In fact, every teacher I can remember noted that on my report card from elementary school on.  I never really knew the meaning of the word until I finally looked it up in high school.  It basically means wanting to do what's right, and doing one's best.  The word certainly sums me up.  It might seem that such a description would bring one the satisfaction of knowing that others notice their drive for things to be right, to be just so, to be perfect.  My perfectionistic personality served me well through school and into the workforce, setting me apart from my peers who could complete papers and projects and not concern themselves with minor defects and flaws.  The things they so easily dismissed were the same things that crippled me.  I could never turn in something I knew wasn't perfect.  I just couldn't.

Becoming a parent has cast a dark shadow onto my need for perfection.  I see now how foolish the strive for perfection truly is.  It hurts to know that the core of who I am is what – in the end – tears my soul into pieces day by day.  You see, just because I know that perfection is unattainable doesn't make it any less my aim.  My heart knows better.  My heart says let it go.  My mind refuses.  My mind allows the ticks of real life to shatter my perception of what my life should look like.  The blocks scattered about the floor, the crayon marks on the walls, the smeared food on the table.  For some parents, most I think, those things represent a well-loved, lived-in, happy home.  For me, those things highlight my failures.  Every little out-of-place trinket reinforces the fact that I don't have it all under control, that I don't have anything under control at all.  I follow behind my children, cleaning up the path of destruction they leave like they are little tornadoes destroying my beautiful town, when I should be dancing in the storm along with them.

This might sound silly or superficial.  You'd probably tell me to get over it, get over myself.  I wish I could.  I beg myself all day long to just let go.  Just let go.  Let the mess happen.  Let the dishes pile up.  Let the laundry sit-in-wait.  Let it be.  It's not an easy thing to do.

My heart longs to see the beauty in the mess.  To accept that life is not a series of perfectly posed photos.  It is deep valleys and majestic peaks, and without the valleys, we wouldn't even notice the peaks.  Life is full of messy, unexpected, fragile, blissfully imperfect moments of madness.  And in that bounty is where the true majesty resides.

Perfection steals away reality.  It dulls the beauty that imperfection creates.  It hides me from the people who need to see me in all my shades.  I'm neurotic, obsessive, verging on manic at times.  Other days I'm light as a feather, free, open, relaxed.  I'm both sides of a mixed metal coin – when I let my authentic self shine through.

The desire for perfection haunts me.  It doesn't serve me or those I love.  It imprisons me – a demon that dances in my soul, darkening the light of my glorious life.  It's the root of my frustrations, my sadness, and my disappointments.

Perfection never allows me to fumble – but it also never releases me to fly.  I need to see both sides.  To relish in the darkness while anticipating the light – for it is in that place of twilight that my eyes see the beauty in the landscape of my life.

A Few Thoughts on Creating Habits

Have you ever watched someone play an instrument? I mean really play it. With every note, every key, every pluck, you hear the beautiful, powerful melody of practice. The sound of habit. The tune of dedication, perseverance, persistence. 

I've played piano since childhood, but I don't practice very often anymore. In my mind I remember almost nothing, but through my hands I can recollect one song. It's a great one, my favorite piece from high school, a difficult piece, and one I wasn't sure I would ever master. But I did, and since then it's a piece I have played over and over again throughout the years. And it's the one I play every time I sit down at the keys to this day. It's the only piece that gives me that sense of fulfillment and excellence, that reminds me of how – through time and work – anything can be accomplished. Of course, on many occasions, it's more likely that I'm tickling the ivories to the tune of Itsy Bitsy Spider or my girls' latest Disney favorite. But when it's my turn, I always come back to Passacaglia.

We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence then, is not an act, but a habit.

Aristotle

Lately I've been putting a lot of effort into creating new habits. It's a tough thing to do, to change the inertia of one's life, pulling away from the comfort of the familiar and tracking off course into the unknown. My habits are – for better or worse – the bricks that build the foundation of my life. To grow and evolve, I have to continue to create new habits, find new ways to challenge myself, learn new things. Wishing for the ability to play guitar, or become an author, or compete in a triathlon, wishing won't do anything to make those things happen. The only thing I can do to achieve my dreams is to create habits that guide me toward them. To reach my mountainous goals, I have to take little steps each day toward the summit. It won't be quick. When I start, I might feel like I felt when I first heard my favorite piano piece – like I would never get there. But each day brings the chance to keep the promises I make to myself. To do the things I said I'd do. To follow through creating new habits and leave behind destructive ones.

Stop the habit of wishful thinking and start the habit of thoughtful wishes.

Mary Martin

We could go through our whole lives never realizing that our habits, those little seemingly insignificant things we do each day, make up the whole of who we are. We are the sum of the things we do each day, the things we fill our time with, good or bad, mundane or meaningful. Our habits become our future. Whether we want them to or not.

People do not decide their futures, 

they decide their habits and their habits decide their futures.

FM Alexander

If I look back on my life a year from now, will I be content with the way I filled my days? Will I live a life of regret, wishing I'd taken the time to practice music, play legos, eat healthy, meditate, get close to those I love? Will I find the strength today to reach the next summit, or will I stay in the hopeless land of wishful wondering? How will my life look a decade from now? If I don't change my habits, it'll look just like it does today. Am I okay with that?

Habit is a cable; we weave a thread of it each day, and at last we cannot break it.

Horace Mann

So what do we do if we know we want radical change? If we want to embark on something brand new, something we know nothing about, something scary, something life-altering? All we have to do is start. That sounds so simple, and it is. But that's how life works. You see your goal. You set out to reach it. You find small, achievable steps toward that goal. And then you take those steps. Every. Single. Day. To redirect your path when necessary, going around obstacles you didn't see when you set out. But no matter what, you keep moving forward until one day, one day, you see the summit. You made it. You built the steps to your goal, and you climbed them until you reached the top. You didn't settle for wishing and waiting. You didn't let the momentum of life hold you down, but you used it to propel you forward on your journey of self-discovery. And when you look back on your life, and all you've done, all the promises you kept to yourself, you'll stand at the top of that mountain, basking in the glorious sunlight, arms held up high with the thrill of accomplishment spreading across your face. Don't wait until tomorrow to start living the life you want to live. Your summit is waiting for you.