Creativity

I believe we are creations of the Great Creator and that we are intended to be creative ourselves. I believe that when we humbly cooperate by making something every day, we are making something also out of ourselves, and it is a something that God intends for us — souls joyous and effective, active and self-actualized.

— Julia Cameron, The Sound of Paper, p. 123

This Is It

But this is what I’m finding, in glimpses and flashes: this is it. This is it, in the best possible way. That thing I’m waiting for, that adventure, that movie-score-worthy experience unfolding gracefully. This is it. Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets — this pedestrian life is the most precious thing any of us will ever experience.

I believe that this way of living, this focus on the present, the daily, the tangible, this intense concentration not on the news headlines but on the flowers growing in your own garden, the children growing in your own home, this way of living has the potential to open up the heavens, to yield a glittering handful of diamonds where a second ago there was coal. This way of living and noticing and building and crafting can crack through the movie sets and soundtracks that keep us waiting for our own life stories to begin, and set us free to observe the lives we have been creating all along without even realizing it.

I don’t want to wait anymore. I choose to believe that there is nothing more sacred or profound than this day. I choose to believe that there may be a thousand big moments embedded in this day, waiting to be discovered like tiny shards of gold. The big moments are the daily, tiny moments of courage and forgiveness and hope that we grab on to and extend to one another. That’s the daily, tiny moments of courage and forgiveness and hope that we grab on to and extend to one another. That’s the drama of life, swirling all around us, and generally I don’t even see it, because I’m too busy waiting to become whatever it is I think I am about to become. The big moments are in every hour, every conversation, every meal, every meeting.

— Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines, p. 16-17

Choose to Celebrate

Today, humble Today, presents itself to us with all the ceremony and bling of a glittering diamond ring. Wear me, it says. Wear me out. Love me, dive into me, discover me, it pleads with us….

To choose to celebrate in the world we live in right now might seem irresponsible. It might seem frivolous, like cotton candy and charm bracelets. But I believe it is a serious undertaking, and one that has the potential to return us to our best selves, to deliver us back to the men and women God created us to be, people who choose to see the best, believe the best, yearn for the best. Through that longing to be our best selves, we are changed and inspired and ennobled, able to see the handwriting of a holy God where another person just sees the same old tired streets and sidewalks.

— Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines, p. 10-11

Not at the Mercy of Our Thoughts

Not being at the mercy of our thoughts is akin to not being at the mercy of the reactions we get from others regarding our thoughts. Our thoughts are what we have created them to be, and it’s foolish to ever say, “I can’t help it, that’s just how I am,” in regard to any thought or situation that has ensnared us. Indeed, we have willingly adopted every thought we harbor.

We are always very much in control of what we say, think, and do. This idea has been expressed time and time again in this book, but it bears repeating because we are so quick to give in to the idea that we can’t take charge of who we are becoming. Every thought we entertain is, in fact, molding us into the people we are. We are works in progress, some say, and that’s good: it means we don’t have to be perfect. Simply deciding to monitor our thoughts, to change their focus, and to quash any one of them that doesn’t add to the peace and joy of the world around us is an excellent contribution we might consider making on a daily basis.

There is great joy in the practice of stopping a negative thought midsentence and refocusing it. Not being in its clutches gives us hope for any number of changes we might want to make in our lives. This is a simple place to begin; our mind is constantly thinking, after all. And we can be constantly refocusing.

— Karen Casey, Let Go Now, p. 122

Unfolding

Allowing ourselves the luxury of becoming what God intended is so much more peaceful than trying to force situations whose time has not come. The freedom to let life simply be whatever it will be in this moment gives us a lot of extra time to smile at strangers, to lend a helping hand to others, to watch children running down the street, and to appreciate the birds chirping as we take that early morning walk.

Allowing life to simply be doesn’t mean we stand idly by. On the contrary, it means we honor those directions we feel God is sending us. We listen to those words of guidance we feel are directing our way, making sure that no matter what we do in any given moment, we are not causing harm to someone else. Letting go of our attachment to how our life should unfold is a wonderful gift to give ourselves.

— Karen Casey, Let Go Now, p. 100

Spoil Yourself

Finally, in your effort to appreciate all that is in your life, include yourself. Spoil yourself with gifts of time — time to know yourself better and time to love and appreciate those who are part of your life. Or just plain indulge yourself in ways you have always wanted to but for which you never gave yourself permission. Wander off your beaten path.

— Caroline Myss, PhD, Why People Don’t Heal and How They Can, p. 192

A Joyous Snow Day

Allowing others to be responsible for themselves is like taking a vacation in the middle of winter or getting a snow day when one least expects it. It’s freeing. It’s joyous. It releases us to explore a new activity, perhaps. And giving up trying to control others, whomever they happen to be, allows them the respect they deserve.

— Karen Casey, Let Go Now, p. 88