Morning Pages

Posted on June 9, 2024 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

Querencia

In my last letter I included this quote, from G. Severino: “I am my own querencia. I am my own home. I am my own sounding board. I am my own soulmate. And what a beautiful feeling to carry with me . . . ”

I only looked up the meaning of the word “querencia” after sending the letter out, simply because I loved all the rest of the quote. But now that I’ve found the definition, I love the word itself, very much.

Wikipedia calls the word “a Spanish metaphysical concept. 1. Emotional inclination toward someone or something. 2. Tendency in people and animals to return to the place where they grew up. . . It has also been defined as ‘homing instinct, a favorite place.'”

It is a layered word packed with meaning. Other interpretations include: to want, like, love; fondness; favorite haunt of an animal (the place where a bull goes in a bullfight, for safety); the place where one feels most secure, where you find your strength of character and feel at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.

I love all of this, as well as its use in Severino’s quote from On the Verge, a journal-style novella. He is his own soulmate, his own favorite place, his own strength, carried with him wherever he goes. True inner strength!

I found his words when I searched last week for a quote about journaling, more specifically that beautiful Morning Pages ritual that I keep, that has sustained me for the past 26 years and that continues to surprise and support me. That is my querencia, my strength, my favorite place/time/haunt, the place where I feel my most authentic self. That is where I gather myself together, with words, pen to paper, my two dogs close by. My haven, my sanctuary. My querencia.

Do I carry it with me? Not sure. Probably not. But I’d like to. Things certainly do jostle one throughout a day–the news, petty disagreements and slights that should be easily shaken off, misspoken words that one regrets, discourteous or unkind encounters, a sick dog or friend, even tech irritations and drama on the pickleball court. All these things lure us away from our center. Life, in other words. Life happens. But in the morning at least I have my querencia before I venture forth.

What is it that makes you feel your strongest and most authentic self? Go and do it right now. Do it as much as you can.

“The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” – Maya Angelou

“I’m safe inside this container called me.” ― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

“Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.” ― James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

Posted on June 2, 2024 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

Cicada Summer

They brought him out to the waiting area, saying, “He misses you!” “I know!” I replied.

I have loved the song of cicadas for a long time. I mean, really loved. But the bloom is off that rose. Let the katydids come and the crickets hum. But this year I’ll be glad when the cicadas have died off.

It’s not been a great week. I just spent my Sunday morning, not in one of my personal churches–woods, lakeside, studio–but at the vet hospital with Miles. As an older dog he has kidney and pancreas issues and as a dog who is young at heart, he loves to hunt cicadas. In his younger years, it did not bother his healthy body to snack on them. But this year he’s like an addict, eyes glittering, panting, keening to get out the door and follow their call.

And so this year he got sick. By yesterday I was fearing the worst.

This morning I was doing my journaling in bed, dreading the experience and the cost of taking Miles to the vet hospital, a thing I’d decided must be done. My last experience had been terrible. I knew it would be expensive. So I started strategizing about how I could pay for it. Another Open Studio? It would have to be a VERY successful one. A big (I hoped) sale of paintings? I just felt like I had to do it.

And then, suddenly, as often happens when I write about a thing, I leapt from worry and dread to gratitude. I realized how lucky I am to have this resource, less than 10 minutes from my home. I have everything I need very close by. I would come up with the money. I felt hopeful and somehow even confident that if I took him there, Miles would be fine.

So, two things.

a) I have often, as I read or think about gratitude, thought, well, it’s easy enough for me to list many things for which I’m grateful. But how easy would it be for people who are very sick, or who have loved ones who are very sick or struggling? Sure, I can make a list every day. But what about all those people in the midst of war, refugees, the sick and grieving? Gratitude must be very hard to come by.

b) Writing. Journaling. It is SO good for you. Try it! It can change your whole day.

P.S. Right now Miles is doing better. We’ll see how the week unfolds. Cicadas have fallen in my Love Scale, even though it’s not their fault animals love to eat them. And I’m sure they would rather not be eaten. But I’ll be happy when they’re gone.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ― Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

“I am my own querencia. I am my own home. I am my own sounding board. I am my own soulmate. And what a beautiful feeling to carry with me…” ― G. Severino, On the Verge

“You think those dogs will not be in heaven! I tell you they will be there long before any of us.” ― Robert Louis Stevenson

Thanks for listening,
Kay

Posted on June 20, 2023 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

This year as I celebrate 25 years of my card business, Ampersand Cards, I’m marking 25 years of self-employment and my life as an artist. This is also my 25th year of writing daily Morning Pages, a la Julia Cameron and her book The Artist’s Way.

I always verge on saying that her wonderful book changed my life, but I think it’s more accurate to say that her book inspired me to change my life. With her words in my head, I left a soul-crushing job and struck out on my own, with writing and art. I have never looked back.

So I began the daily ritual of writing Morning Pages. This is one of the key components in Julia Cameron’s instructive course. First thing in the morning you write out, in longhand, three pages (give or take) of whatever comes to you. It is a kind of emptying out, letting loose all the big and little threads of thought/feeling that are roaming around in your brain. It can be a great way to work through all sorts of problems and issues, too. It has been the best part of her teaching, for me. Not a discipline, as many people seem to think, but for me a daily ritual that is one of the loveliest and most welcome parts of my day. And this year marks 25 years of doing it almost every single day, wherever I happen to be. Most days I want to have just a few more moments.

I always write sitting up in bed, a cup of tea by my side, one or two dogs lying by me, the tree-filled east view out my windows. Perfect. But now that I’m older, it hurts my low back to sit like that. Ugh. I’ve tried a few things to make it better ergonomically but the results are only minimally helpful. To think of doing it anywhere else is horrifying! And there is absolutely no room in my bedroom for any sort of chair. Anyway, a chair. Really? I don’t think so. I guess it’s a little silly to carry on like this when it hurts, but nothing I’ve come up with is as satisfying. No, I believe I’ll trudge along as I’ve been doing. I only have to hobble for a brief while after I stand up. It doesn’t take that long to unwind my back . . .

When you find a thing that is just so satisfying it seems ridiculous to stop, doesn’t it?

“For me starting the day without a pot of tea would be a day forever out of kilter.” ― Bill Drummond, $20,000: A Book

“Pages clarify our yearnings. They keep an eye on our goals. They may provoke us, coax us, comfort us, even cajole us, as well as prioritize and synchronize the day at hand. If we are drifting, the pages will point that out. They will point the way True North. Each morning, as we face the page, we meet ourselves. The pages give us a place to vent and a place to dream. They are intended for no eyes but our own.”― Julia Cameron, The Miracle of Morning Pages

“Think of your pages like a whisk broom. You stick the broom into all the corners of your consciousness. If you do this first thing in the morning, you are laying out your track for the day. Pages tell you of your priorities. With the pages in place first thing, you are much less likely to fall in with others’ agendas. Your day is your own to spend. You’ve claimed it.” ― Julia Cameron, The Miracle of Morning Pages

Thanks for listening,
Kay

Posted on April 22, 2022August 19, 2022 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

Collecting Dust

I believe I’ve mentioned before that I write each morning. Ever since 1998, when I read The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, I’ve been writing what she calls Morning Pages. It’s just a way of clearing your mind for the day, writing whatever comes up without trying to write well or be pithy or profound. I write on looseleaf paper and I guard this routine selfishly. The odd day when I miss might be because I have to leave the house super early to catch a plane (obviously not often)–but that’s about it. People tend to think this shows great discipline, but I do it because I love it. It’s a routine that I adore–in my bed in pajamas, sun rising out my window, cup of tea on one side of me, dogs on the other.

So I’ve been doing this for 24 years. You can imagine the amount of paper. I usually write at least 3 pages, often more than a ream of paper each year. After my aunt died and we read every scrap of her handwritten notes, I was in a panic to clear mine out. Not just minutiae, there’s also a lot of petty grievances and complaints in those pages. What if I got hit by a bus and my family read all of that?

But the pages had piled up again. This winter, I suddenly developed an allergy to dust mites. Well, I had been saying that if I was allergic to dust, considering the state of my home, I’d already be dead. My bedroom and studio are filled with things. Far too many things. Books, papers, clothing, pillows, scarves, shoes, jewelry, art, art supplies, piano music, tchotchkes, heart-shaped rocks, etc. Thus, those two rooms, especially, are very difficult to dust. So I hardly ever do it.

The other day, sneezing like mad, too miserable for a planned road trip, I attacked my bedroom. There sat piles and piles of Morning Pages, some in binders, some just loose and stacked, going back to 2008, gathering loads of dust. Ugh.

But what to do with them? Paper. I had to recycle. But what if those workers who go through the recycling started reading? I could just imagine one saying to the other, “Listen to this!” Laughing, casting aspersions on my very personal ramblings. No, I could not bear it. So I sat for hours, mask on, tearing the pages in half before taking four garbage bags of torn pages to the recycling center.

I considered holding back 2020 and 2021, each of them much more than a ream of paper. But why? For historical reasons? Would I ever read them again? Would I want to read them? I often think I’ll go back and pull the best parts of them, the pages in which I really was writing something interesting, discovering something or other, recounting some important moments or days in my life. In the end, I tore up those, too, and off they went.

Marie Kondo would be proud, but only a little. I have miles to go before I stop sneezing.

“Edit your life frequently and ruthlessly. It’s your masterpiece after all.” Nathan W. Morris

“Tidying is the act of confronting yourself.” Marie Kondo

“Clutter is often the result of so many good intentions.” Becky Rogers

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay