Charlotte Rains Dixon

Creativity With a Purpose

I'm all for creativity--it is the centerpiece of my life.  As a writer, I've had to cultivate ways to be creative and stay creative on a regular basis.  This includes nurturing ideas, putting them on paper, and developing them into finished pieces, whether those finished pieces are paid work for clients or passion projects for myself. My creativity extends to other areas of my life, too, such as my love of knitting, of arranging (and rearranging) my home, and gardening.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about creativity.  Actually, I always think a lot about creativity, as I coach clients and students to be able to access it with ease on a regular basis.  But I've been pondering it more deeply as I move toward putting together a true online information business (Ebooks, teleclasses, and coaching, oh my!).

And what I've realized is that most of my work around creativity is very purpose driven.  I teach and promote creativity with a purpose--whether that purpose is a book you want to write, a skirt you want to sew, or a painting you want to paint.  Don't get me wrong--creativity for its own sake is wonderful.  But there are lots of great folks talking about and teaching that kind of creativity.  My niche is helping people who need to be creative for a reason blast blocks and get down to it.

I've got a lot of ideas and plans for this niche, so stay tuned.  Better yet, subscribe to my newsletter to make sure you stay up to date.

And for those of you whose creative bent tends toward business, I've got a great tip for you.  The fabulous Marney at Artella is presenting the beta version of her new teleclass, The Complete Idealist's Blissness Action Camp. and it starts on Monday.  Because its the beta version, the class is half-price--IF you register by Monday.  I'm signed up for it, and I can't wait--Marney's classes and products are always high value and lots of fun.  Either click one of the links in this post or click on the colorful button to the left to sign up.

Getting Up At 5 AM

Last week, I set a goal with my friend and fellow writer Roy, that both of us would rise at 5 AM in order to write.  The goal was to do it twice last week and three times this week.  Since he's in Nashville and I'm in Portland, with a two hour time difference, the idea is that we each email the other when we are up and working.  Usually this consists of a terse message along the lines of "up."  (Hey, we save our creative energy for the page.)

So, I've managed to rise at 5 AM three times now.  In typical fashion for me, today, even though I told myself I could sleep in, it being Monday and all, I woke up all on my own at a little after 5.  I have a strong circadian clock, I think.

Since I've now managed to rouse myself from bed three, count 'em, three, times, that makes me an expert.  And because I am an expert, I have pronouncements.  So here goes:

1.  The worst part is the first moment when you open your eyes and groan.  Keep your eyes open and get your feet on the floor.  It gets better from there--especially when you get some coffee in you.

2.  Speaking of coffee, make sure you have some waiting for you, either made by a spouse willing (or having no choice) to get up early also, or via automatic timer.  Trust me, you are going to want coffee immediately.

3.  Drink a couple big glasses of water before you start on the coffee.  Its good for you, and it'll help keep your brain focused.  Plus, it will give you an excuse to get up from the computer and use the bathroom.

4.  Have a plan.  And don't make the plan the morning of, figure it out the night before.  This morning, because I didn't really plan to get up so early, I wasn't prepared with a plan and consequently I didn't get as much done. 

5.  Have a big goal.  Mine is to once and for all finish the rewrite of my novel and get it out the door.  I want this desperately, so desperately that I'm willing to get up in the dark to write. 

6.  Be prepared to kick ass and get tons done.  Its magical, really.  Since I work at home and can generally stay in my jammies all day long if I want to, I usually don't have to quit my morning writing session until 7:30 or 8, depending on what pressing assignments I have.  When I get up at 5, I feel like I have a vast expanse of time in which to work, and my brain opens and eases and it is much easier to focus.

7.  Don't let those pesky night owl types talk you out of your plan to rise early.  It is worth it, trust me.  Really, really worth it.

And now, excuse me, its nearly 9 PM and time for me to get in bed.  Kidding!  Sort of.

She's In a Better Place, I Hope

My mother's cat, Emma, came to live with us about a month ago, when it became apparent that Mom was going to be in the nursing home a good long time, like forever.

Emma was as old in cat years as Mom in human years (92), if not older.  By our best estimates, she was probably 17 or 18, and she was a decrepit, skinny thing who clearly was not in the greatest of health.  Also not the happiest cat you've ever met.  I think she was charming and kitty-like when first we got her for Mom, but that was so long ago its hard to remember.

For the past month, she spent all of her time in our kitchen, either on the little rug I put out for her, or in front of the heating vent.  Every time the Big Scary Beast (the blind Pug, also getting on in years) came snarfling into the kitchen she either fled (in a slow, awkward way) or hissed and growled at him.

I should have known something was up when in recent days she no longer hissed at Igor the Pug, but seemed to tolerate him.  I thought she was mellowing and that maybe someday Emma and Igor would even be friends.  I also thought she would live forever, because she was that kind of cat.

Alas, such was not to be.  On Friday night we went to a party to celebrate the recent nuptials and when we got home Emma was acting strangely.  Still, she always acted strangely and so I petted her and went to bed. 

The next morning, at 6 AM, I found her dead, stiff as can be in her litter box (don't ask--I think it was a nice soft spot for her).  After the initial surprise and sadness, I felt guilt.  Guilt that I hadn't done more, guilt that I'd never really bonded with her, guilt, guilt, guilt.  But, come to think of it, guilt is a pretty selfish reaction--it makes the situation all about me when really it isn't. 

As a wise friend said, Emma realized that her job--taking care of my Mom--was finished. We did the best we could for her in the short time we had together, but clearly the enterprise was doomed from the start.  And so she went on to a better place.  The kitchen feels strangely empty and the Pug is wandering around wondering what happened to that nummy wet cat food he could once in awhile nab when nobody was looking.  We took her poor little body, with bits and pieces of kitty litter still clinging to it, to my Mom's backyard and buried her beneath a tree where many other pets have gone to their reward over the years.

Ah, life.  So many changes already this year, personally and globally.  All one can do is hang on tight and hope for the best.  And keep loving each other, or the feeble demon cat, or whatever happens to pass into your care.  Because, when all is said and done, the secret of life is to love one another.  It is just that simple.