Category: Inspiration

Good Enough is Good Enough

posted 28th August 2010    Written by: Renee    CATEGORY: Creativity, Inspiration, Renee, Season 3, What I've Learned

I sat down to write this post and got halfway through it and decided there was no fluidity, no form, no voice, and the whole thing was crap.

It’s writer’s block and it terrifies me. As someone who thrives on feeling productive, knowing that I just scrapped an hour’s worth of work makes me feel helpless and worthless.

I pride myself on my writing efficiency. In undergrad, I could knock out a three-to-five page paper in less than an hour. It would be a coherent, comprehensive work, too. Often, these papers would earn A’s, especially if it was for a class I really enjoyed.

Today? The writing isn’t coming easily. So instead I refill my glass of water… tap out a couple more words…  I check the mail… reread what I’ve written… I grab some string cheese from the fridge… delete a paragraph… I put another coat of nail polish on… and decide, screw it, this idea is not happening today.

And what can I do? How do I find inspiration when my energy turns negative? How should I expect myself to produce top-notch content when I feel sour about every word I type? How do I keep that Judgey McJudgerson voice in my head from constantly judging?

Is there anything more frustrating than not accepting what you produce? Be it music, art, writing, calculations, or whatever your line of work may be. It’s like, you don’t accept it so your client or readers or whatever sure as hell won’t accept it, either. But you know you’re your worst critic, so you try to look at it with someone else’s eyes and it actually just looks worse than you thought it did and please would that judgey voice STOP being all judgey in my head?

You’re certain when you submit it, it’s all mumbo-jumbo and you’re certain you’re just about to be fired because whatever you just submitted is total crap and your four year-old goddaughter could have created something way better than this. Is it naptime yet?

But then I take a step back. I take a deep breath. I roll out the tension in my shoulders. Each article, blog post, paper I write doesn’t have to be perfection. It doesn’t always have to break glass ceilings and burst through uncharted territory and thrill each and every reader. But it has to reach a level of acceptance.

One of my idols, Jane Fonda, writes in her autobiography, “Good enough is good enough.” Sometimes, that’s the best I can do and if I put forth good enough effort, then it’s good enough for me and it’s good enough for my audience. I can be proud of that.

I’m afraid of silly things—revolving doors, salmonella poisoning, things that go bump in the night–but I’m most afraid of not living up to my own expectations. I need to let myself off the hook from time to time and for God’s sake Renee just relax. Being authentic doesn’t mean being perfect, it means being the best version of yourself and meeting yourself where you are and being OKAY with that.

It’s gonna be okay. Relax.

[photo credit: AndWat]

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Dreaming in the City of Angels

posted 25th August 2010    Written by: Nikki    CATEGORY: All Posts, Inspiration, Job/Career/Work, Nikki, Season 3

I gotta be honest with y’all, I’m having a really hard time writing this post.  Even though I’ve been incredibly open in my last three posts, this, somehow, makes me feel more naked.  I have to tell you my dreams – dreams I’ve wanted since I knew how to dream, dreams I’d thought were dead and then were rekindled, dreams I’ve recently discovered I have.  I find myself gauging your reactions – will you think my dreams silly?  Stupid?  Selfish?  Boring?  Generic?  I’m showing you a little hidden piece of my heart, so please, be kind.  Here goes…

I dream of being onstage, with an audience’s adoration roaring in my ears and lights glinting off my eyelashes.  Of standing ovations and acceptance speeches.  I dream of sitting in a dark theatre and forgetting it’s my face onscreen, sharing a cathartic moment with a  group of strangers.  I dream of collaboration; long, long days on set or in the wings, knowing we’re making something amazing and working through that giddy sense of exhaustion to an explosion of creativity.

I dream of creating everyday.  Of the freedom and discipline in sitting down and writing, every day.  I dream of the perfect words to describe a feeling or a place, and the perfect reading of a line.  I dream of a book jacket with my name on it.  I dream of a paycheck earned in ways that make me feel more alive instead of less than human.

I dream of a home that is mine in a city I love.  A home that is cozy and colorful and full of sunshine.  One that welcomes laughter, music, and comfortable silence.  I dream of an ever-blooming garden with twinkly lights in the trees and cocktail parties in the grass.  Of soft puppies and snuggly blankets.

I dream of a big big love.  A man who thrills me beyond reason but has all the reasons to justify that thrill.  My partner in every sense; balanced in respect, love, trust, and passion.  I dream of knowing it’s right beyond all my doubts and fears and stubborn independence.  I dream of an ability to communicate honestly and a shared view of life as much more than the white picket fence.  Of a marriage where we choose to be together while both retaining our sense of self.  I dream of a loving healthy little family that explores together and is not limited by money, location, or outside expectations.  I dream of best friends and family being much closer than a plane ride away.

I dream of adventure.  Of traveling the world and stepping foot on every continent, in every ocean.  I dream of eating with locals and learning languages, of getting lost and proving to myself I can find my way again.  I dream of scuba diving caves and wrecks, of stomping grapes and exploring pyramids, of total immersion bringing me totally present in the moment.

I dream of the self-awareness, clarity and balance to pull me through whatever lies ahead, and keep me grateful for the joys in my life.  Of self-confidence and complete comfort in my own skin.  I dream of eliminating “should” and “settle” from my vocabulary.  Of re-cultivating my inner 5-year-old and her imagination.  I dream of costume parties and cartwheels through sprinklers on hot days.  I dream of goofy grins and laughing till my sides hurt, and then laughing more.  I dream of sweet tea and hammocks and watching for shooting stars.  I want bubbling, tear-inducing, uncontainable joy.

“Nothing happens unless first we dream.”  -Carl Sandburg

[photo source]

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Defining My Values

posted 21st August 2010    Written by: Renee    CATEGORY: Inspiration, Renee, Season 3, Spirituality

I completed the Joy Equation in February 2010.  As part of Week One, I was instructed to identify my eight core values. This was new territory for me.  My values?  No one has ever asked about my values. The only time I ever hear the word “values” is when the religious right shouts about “family values” which is really just a band-aid for bigotry. I had to warm up to the word. What are my values?

At first, with my Catholic background, I thought about the Beatitudes, from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are the meek: for they shall possess the land.
Blessed are they who mourn: for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after justice: for they shall have their fill.
Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the clean of heart: for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.
Blessed are they that suffer persecution for justice’s shake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
(Matthew 5:3-10)

Peace? Yeah, okay, that sounds good. Justice? Sure. Merciful? Acceptable. Poor in spirit? Meek? Mourning? I get it, but those aren’t my values. I don’t want to lie down at the end of each day and ask myself, “Renee, were you poor in spirit today?” It doesn’t seem motivating.

I had to dig deeper. My Catholicism still clenched me in its grasp. I thought about the seven spiritual works of mercy.

1. Instruct the ignorant.
2. Counsel the doubtful.
3. Admonish sinners.
4. Bear wrongs patiently.
5. Forgive offenses willingly.
6. Comfort the afflicted.
7. Pray for the living and the dead.

Ah! Here we go. Teach. Counsel. Console. Forgiveness. Compassion. Patience. Peace. We’re getting closer. Thanks, St. Thomas of Aquinas, for teaching me about mercy.

The Joy Equation states, “Our core values are the habits of our heart.” What makes my heart cry out? What moves me to action? What would I fight to for the right to enjoy and experience?

I narrowed down a long, long list with notes in the margins reminding myself “not what I should choose, rather what resonates with me.” Finally, I came up with eight. And then I defined them.

Honesty – Being honest with myself and others, telling the truth, saying what I mean, and always having good, open communication.

Peace – Being at peace with myself, things in my life that I can’t change, and cutting back on the arguing to focus on the greater good. “Good enough is good enough.” –Jane Fonda

Love – Keeping love in my heart and showing it at all times, making everyone feel special and worth of my time. Radiate Love.

Patience – Knowing what matters enough to stress me out and what’s not worth my worries. Keeping my temper in check. Taking deep breaths and going slowly. Keep calm and carry on.

Joy/Humor – Smiling and laughing more than frowning and crying. Finding humor in unfavorable situations. Being able to laugh at myself. Enjoying the company of others. Finding my fun.

Compassion – Knowing when others need my help, a second chance, or a compromise. Putting myself in others’ shoes. Being flexible to accommodate the needs of others when they need it most.

Passion – Recognizing the drive I need to go after what I want. Taking life by the horns. Fearlessly pursuing the things I love. Making time to do things for me.

Authenticity – Knowing what’s best when I need it most. Staying true to myself. Putting my needs first. Taking time to fix #1. Not compromising my values. Doing what I need to do. Not being fake. Giving 100% all the time but knowing what 100% is.

When you wrap up my values and put a pretty bow on them, you can see the Beatitudes and spiritual works of mercy trickling through them… but you can also see my liberal arts education and my ferocious feminism. I can tell where I’m trying to reel in my Type A, Arian personality, trying to cool off my fire sign. I can tell where I’m trying to open my heart just a little more, to soften my rough edges and let a little more light in.

There’s something empowering about naming your values and doing your best to adhere to them, something very tenacious and gritty that I love.  It makes for one hell of a personal journey.

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One Love Ends, Another Love Begins

posted 20th August 2010    Written by: Alisha    CATEGORY: Alisha, Creativity, Family, Inspiration, Love/Relationships, Season 3

You know that saying about how love always comes when you least expect it?

One Friday afternoon, I left a message for my boyfriend the bouncer, letting him know that it was not going to work out.  Then I called my friend Crystal and we made a date: Brooksider for burgers and beers at 8.  In that basement, on a very cold February night (February 9th to be precise), the universe threw another curve ball.

I won’t bore you with the details, but let’s just say that I fell in love that night.  Three months into our relationship I found out I was pregnant.  Wowzers.  My head was spinning.  My first thought was, “oh my God.  My parents are gonna kill me.”  Fortunately they did not.  And luckily, for me, my new boyfriend was beyond excited.  That night we drove to the library and stayed up until the wee hours talking about baby names.  It was a hasty decision, but two months after that we got married.  I was working full-time in the accounting department of an engineering firm while going to school full-time.  Needless to say, I left school—again—and focused on work while trying not to freak out about my future as a parent.  Yet, at only 22 years of age, how could I not be freaking out?

The summer flew by, autumn was a blur and on December 29th, 2007, I gave birth to a very beautiful baby boy.  During my maternity leave, we decided that the ridiculous cost of daycare meant that I should become a stay-at-home mom.  Those first 4 or 5 months were really difficult.  My life basically consisted of pumping, feeding, burping; pumping, feeding, burping; pumping, feeding, burping…you get the idea.  I was tired, hungry, and very depressed.  I did not admit it to myself then, but looking back on it now, I was clearly suffering from Post Partum Depression.  One night, as I rocked him back and forth, back and forth trying to stop the crying, I could feel myself fill with rage.  My muscles got really tight, hot.  Jaw clenched and eyes wide open, I imagined myself throwing him across the room.  I didn’t, of course.  But I really wanted to.  At that moment, I felt like a failure as a mother.   Yet, day after day I tried my best to be the “perfect” mom.  I learned how to cook.  My home was always spotless.  I got a sewing machine.  I tried to learn how to knit.  I even tried to be all eco-friendly and green and use cloth diapers.  (After I had to soak a poopy one in the sink, the husband put an end to that.)  However, I never really felt like “me.”

Three years later, I have perfected the role of a homemaker but I still feel lost.  It was not until I was pregnant with my daughter that I really felt compelled to make some more change.  I knew that if I wanted to be an example of a strong, secure and authentic woman for my daughter that I needed to get to work on my self.  This past summer I read “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron and it is no exaggeration when I say that it has changed my life.  It reminded me of all those little things that make up “Alisha”.  I delved back into writing, drawing, dreaming.  It made me excited about life again.  It was as if by giving birth to her, Iexperienced a rebirth of my self.

However, I am still floundering in uncharted territory.  I knew how to be “me” when I was single.  Now, the challenge is how to combine all of these new elements (husband, home, two children) while I travel on this existential journey, the rediscovery of my soul.  In the midst of broken train tracks, how will I find inspiration instead of ire?  How will I navigate through the poop and toddler vomit and stay on course through this crisis?  I don’t know.  But maybe Stratejoy can be my compass.

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Wanderlust, Mermaids and Cake

posted 19th August 2010    Written by: Marian    CATEGORY: All Posts, Inspiration, Marian, Season 3, Travel

God. I’m reading back on my first post here at Stratejoy and realize a lot of work needs to be done. I’m working so hard at my new business that I’m forgetting about what makes me… ME. So in this final introductory post I want to introduce you to the Real Marian. The one that isn’t trying to get blog readers or more clients or more anything. Just. Me.

I’m a curvy Italian-Puerto Rican feminist. I grew up speaking Spanish but have lost most of it now. I majored in Gender Studies, a degree that’s proved to be completely useless but I don’t regret it one bit because it was the most awesome major EVER.

I have an incredibly loud laugh that often causes glares from strangers. I will never apologize for it

Food is my freaking life blood. Sure, my ass is proof of that, but I partly blame my Puerto Rican mother. Plus, I’ll never apologize for my love of cake either.

I’m a long-time vegetarian for completely non-moral reasons (I just think meat is gross). Granted, I like that in some small way I’m contributing to the whole not-killing-animals thing, but I won’t pretend I’m more ethical or hippie than I am.

That said, the outdoors heal me. The house I grew up in sat on the edge of a small wood and I would run around as a child pretending to be an American Indian and still think that if I believed in reincarnation I lived off the land in a past life.

I think I was also a mermaid.

My dream was to be a Marine Biologist, but I also wanted to be an actress, a writer and a chef. I definitely write now, I no longer have even the smallest desire to be an actress and becoming a pastry chef is on my life list.

Speaking of life lists, I don’t actually have one. I don’t like lists – they make me feel confined. That said, there is a life list in my head that includes road tripping to every state, living on every continent, writing a book, getting a dog, living in the middle of nowhere and becoming a pastry chef with my own bakery. That bakery has mismatched furniture, free wifi, Christmas lights on every possible surface and sponsors local artists.

I hate money and yes, I know everyone does, but it doesn’t motivate me the way I think it motivates others. I don’t need or want to be rich. I want enough money to travel, but I could live in a shack and not really care. Growing up in Greenwich, CT (Pearl Capital of the World) and attending Davidson College (the most conservative, wealthy, white college on the planet), I’ve always been surrounded by ambitious, wealthy people. Most of them make me feel like crap.

As I get older I realize my relationships are THE most important parts of me, my job will never give me the happiness a hike in the woods will. And no award or paycheck will give me the same feeling as experiencing a new culture.

I have the worst case of wanderlust coupled with self-diagnosed ADD. Meaning I hate staying in one place for too long. Ideally I’d like to see every country, but the top of my list (for now) includes: India, Thailand, Bali, Costa Rica, Germany, Finland and Russia. Oh, and Turkey. And Greece. Crap. My list is too long for its own good.

I can’t freaking wait for New Zealand because it involves travel and pretty trees and water and stuff. You know, nature. And calm. After a year in London and another year in Manhattan and six more months in London I could really use some calm.

Rereading this post and realizing it’s okay to not try and impress you? God. I love it here.

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