Thankful to be Content

Every year as Thanksgiving approaches, I reflect on all that I have to be thankful for. This year, my thoughts turn not to the great events or successes. Rather, my heart is thankful for the non-specific yet prevailing joys of my life. These include standing back and observing how my children are each actively pursuing their bliss, that my marriage is loving and fulfilling, and my friends and family are caring and compassionate. I’m also thankful that my health is good and my mind is still curious and capable. These are my blessings.

It is enough. Sometimes I pray for something I want, but don’t necessarily need. If I don’t get it I might grow impatient and I wonder if it will ever materialize, then later, begin to worry it will not. Michael Jordan once said that his failures were as important to his growth as his successes. Failure, obstacles, disappointments, and rejections test character and resolve. They also teach patience and prod us to reevaluate our efforts.

And what if God simply says “No” to what I pray for?

Max Lucado wrote,

"Content. That’s the word. A state of heart in which you would be at peace if God gave you nothing more than he already has.”

This Thanksgiving I give thanks to God for all my blessings and I pray for the serenity and wisdom to recognize those blessings every day and be content.

The Last of my Monarchs... For Now

“Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.” -anonymous

The monarch butterfly’s annual migration south to Mexico typically begins in early fall in the north when the days grow shorter and the nights cooler. For me, the fall is an introspective season, a time to prepare for the winter ahead. Over the past summer I’ve raised dozens of monarchs. It was inspiring to watch the monarch grow from a microscopic egg to a caterpillar, then to climb to the top of the aquarium to form an amazing, jewel-like chrysalis the color of jade. Then, finally, to witness the magical metamorphosis and celebrate as it emerged a butterfly. On Halloween it was bittersweet to release my last butterfly in my garden.

Or so I thought. After several blustery days, courtesy of Hurricane Ida, we enjoyed a balmy sunny day on Isle of Palms. As I did garden chores, my eyes widened in surprise when I found several tiny, newly hatched caterpillars chomping away on my milkweed plants! Delighted, I brought them indoors to my butterfly habitat. I see them now outside my office window on my screened porch. To think…In a few weeks I will again witness the miracle of metamorphosis.

This last, late, and unexpected batch of monarch caterpillars was a gift. A second chance for inspiration. Last week’s sudden blast of cold came too quick and my mood grew depressed at the thought of the end of my summer season. Now, however, I’ve been inspired to take advantage of this quieter, introspective season. If I see my time indoors as a chrysalis, I am inspired to effectively use this duration as a period of growth and transformation. I choose to withdraw from distractions and to go inward, quietly and with reflection. I will use this as a time to create something new.

And when the days grow long again and the sun warms the earth, I hope I will emerge transformed to greet the return of my sister butterfly, my own creativity shining as bright and vivid as wings the color of flames.

Thoughts on Writing: Instructive Criticism

Because of my occupation, people often ask me for writing advice.  So I've decided to periodically post some of my writing tips on my blog with hopes that this will help you with your writing process, or even be the spark you need to begin writing your own story.  Today's topic tackles the dreaded "C" word-- criticism.

For many of us, criticism is hard to swallow and oftentimes uncomfortable to dish out as well. Yet, it’s part of the writing process. Writers rejoice at the positive reviews and cringe at the negative ones.  The phrase, “if you can’t stand the heat stay out of the kitchen” comes to mind.  A writer must develop a thick enough skin to be able to receive the criticisms, then take a deep breath and set them aside—both positive and negative ones.  During the writing process, the only critic to listen to resides in your own mind.

A critique, however, is not a review. It is a sacred trust.  When a writer asks a particular person or group to critique her manuscript, she is offering her unfinished work in progress up for comments that will, hopefully, make her book the best it can be.  This is a risky moment.  The writer is vulnerable.  It is important to seek out a critique from a person or a group adept at “instructive criticism.”

The goal of the critique is to instruct, not destruct.  As the one offering a critique, it’s important to remember that this is not your book.  Neither is it a book being written by committee.  It is your obligation to be
open-minded and fair.  If for any reason you feel you can’t be-- you don’t like the time period, the genre, the tone, the writing style--better to pass on it than attack it. Or worse, if you’re jealous of the talent on the pages, decline.  I’ll never forget the woman who only wrote, “Did you ever think of doing something other than writing?” on my manuscript.  I was young and unpublished then, but I had the confidence to quit that critique group.  By the way, that woman was never published.  She’s probably writing one-star-wonders on Amazon.

When I receive a manuscript, I ask the writer what it is she especially wants from me.  Sometimes, she won’t know how to answer that and will stutter, “Everything!”  But maybe all she wanted was a grammar or fact check.  In any case, I take the responsibility seriously.

When I’m asked to do an “everything” critique of a manuscript, I don’t write madly on the pages, I rarely correct grammar or rewrite a sentence.  Instead, I look at the big picture.  I take notes on separate paper since I sometimes change my thoughts as the novel unfolds.  When I finish, I carefully review my copious notes.  It’s time now to reflect. Don’t shoot from the hip.  Remember your words can hit like bullets.  Below are a few suggestions on how to offer an instructive critique.

First, offer what you liked about the book.  A critique doesn’t mean merely negative criticisms.  Point out what really worked.  Praise lavishly.  Next, choose the single, main point that you feel the author should address.  Give a specific example then offer suggestions of how she might improve it.  You may have found several problems with the manuscript but don’t bring them all up.  Be choosy.  Too many can be overwhelming for the fragile author.  The last thing you should do is discourage the writer.  She came to you for a helping hand.  Your critique has the power to pull her up or knock her down.  Finally, remind the writer that this is simply your opinion and to take it with a grain of salt.  In the end, it is her book.  Her name goes on it, not yours.

Offering instructive criticism should leave the writer feeling inspired to get back to work, to believe in her book.  It’s simple.  Offer criticism in the manner that you’d like to receive it.

My mother taught me that if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.  In the case of criticism, nice means open-minded, considerate, and instructive.  I think that works for every area in our life!

Day of the Dead

Since I’ve been researching and raising monarchs, many people I’ve talked to have shared an amazing butterfly story with me. Most of them involve an almost mystical experience after the passing of a loved one that involved a butterfly—a monarch butterfly in particular. I get goosebumps listening to the stories, sometimes am moved to tears as I make connections with natural and spiritual phenomena.

Since ancient times, many cultures around the world have created myths and lore associating the butterfly with the human soul. We resonate to this beautiful insect that flutters by. The word for soul in Greek is psyche and this is the name Aristotle gave the butterfly. The Christians adopted the metamorphosis of the butterfly as a stirring symbol for the resurrection and marked November 2nd as All Soul’s Day, the day of prayer for the dead.

In Mexico, the Day of the Dead is a joyous festival with origins dating to the Aztec culture that dominated Mexico for centuries. They believed that monarch butterflies were the souls of the recently departed. Later, the colonialists moved the celebration for the dead to coincide with the Christian All Souls Day on November 2nd. Today, the Day of the Dead celebration is a major holiday in Mexico. The festivals throughout the country are festive, mystic, spiritual, and in some places, touristy. For some, the holiday is frivolous with music, dancing, and traditional sugar skeletons. For others, it is a time of reflection as they welcome the spirit of a beloved with offerings of flowers and favorite foods.

I’m most moved by the fact that this holiday coincides with the arrival of the migrating monarch in Mexico. Every fall, as the sunlight dissipates and the days grow shorter and the cold nips the air, monarchs migrate south to their overwintering sites, now sanctuaries high in the transvolcanic mountains of Michoacán. This single bug flies thousands of miles from as far away as Canada, joining millions of its kind to cluster in the oyamel fir trees. In the spring, when the light shines longer and warms the earth, the butterflies awaken and follow the blooming of their host plant, the milkweed, north.

Both science and faith elicit wonder and awe in our hearts and minds. Many myths are created in attempts to explain natural phenomena. When myth and nature collide, as they do on November 2nd in Mexico, we are compelled to reflect upon the power of nature to heal, to inspire, and to guide us.

All the people who have shared with me their story of seeing a monarch soon after the passing of a loved one believe they made a sacred connection with that relative. This moment is as profound and convincing to him or her as it is for any person in Mexico sitting at an ancestor’s grave who looks up and sees a cloud of a thousand monarchs passing and believes they are the souls of the departed. At such a moment we also feel a soul stirring connection to the vast cosmos, and to all souls in the great beyond. We are all one. We will never see a monarch butterfly again without remembering that connection.

On November 2nd welcome your memories of your relatives who have passed. Perhaps write a brief memoir, or paint a portrait, or tell a story about your relative to your child or grandchild. By sharing memories, we keep our passed loved ones alive.

And if you see a monarch passing through, all the better.