46
Write about housework chores, such as vacuum
cleaning or mowing the grass. Who did it in your childhood home? When you were
introduced to this work first? Is it something you enjoyed doing or tried to
avoid at any coast?
OPTIONAL: Work on your fiction and share.
You know what I want? I want to learn to love chores.
I mean, truly, to stop resenting them and not just that, but finding poetry in
doing them! It’s very hard for me. I am out of shape, that’s the reason number
one – it is just physically very challenging to do housework for me. My head is
full of creative ideas, and I’d rather be working on them than cleaning the
floors, that’s another reason. And there are more, but the point to me is not in
counting reasons why you hate doing something, but in finding a way to stop
resenting and even finding a way to do them that will bring me joy. I know some people
focus on the result – they look forward to the result (clean house), and it
somehow makes it OK for them to actually do all the chores. I understand, but it does not do the trick for me. Other people just
tell themselves that once it’s done, it will be over, and they will be able to
enjoy whatever it is they actually want to do. Not a bad way, but again, somehow it's not
helping me. Once I read a post by a woman whose approach to cleaning the house
was the most inspiring of all – the most creative and I even want to use the
word “artistic”! She lit candles, played relaxing music while cleaning her
home – she took it as a meditative, creative, and truly cleansing process! It's hard to impress me when it comes to cleaning, but there I
was really impressed. Cleaning your home, the sacred place where you enjoy
being, enjoy sharing life with the people you love, enjoy creating whatever you
love to create, can be actually such a beautiful process, similarly to cleaning
your tired mind or exhausted soul, or aching body. It can be as beautiful as
having a spa day. Banya for the house!
10 min
47
Write about a bird - the one you have (or had
as a kid), or a magical bird from a fairy tale that you love, or a bird that
visits your yard and teases your cat.
OPTIONAL: Work on your fiction and share.
Excerpt from my fairy tale
Anya walked in the snowy wintry woods, feeling all cozy in her cute little coat and valenki*, wearing mittens and a long scarf which Chickenleg
House made for her, when suddenly she heard someone coughing. She looked around
and couldn’t find anyone, but then she heard it again… cough... cough, cough…
“It’s me, Anya, Snegir **, can’t you see me? Look up!”
“Oh hello dear Snegir, and I was wondering to myself,
who is coughing? Did you catch cold, poor fellow?”
“There is that, a little.”
Anya took the
woolen scarf from her neck and handed it to the bird.
“Here, wrap it around your neck, that’s what mama
taught me to do when catching cold. It will warm up your sore throat. You
will feel better in no time!”
“Thank you, Anya, you are such a kind little girl,”
said Snegir and wrapped the scarf around his neck.
“But wait a minute, take this bunch of frozen berries
with you, they will prove being useful some day.”
With these words, Snegir handed a bunch of bright red berries to Anya.
“What should I do with them?”
“Just keep them in your pocket. Don’t worry, they
won’t go bad. They are not just some frozen berries, but rather magic little
things. They will keep till Summer and help you one day. You will know when you
need them.”
And Anya did just what the kind Snegir told her. She
put the bunch of bright red berries in her pocket and saved them until she
needed their magic power.
* valenki - traditional Russian woolen (felt) boots.
** Snegir (from the word "sneg" which means snow) is a Russian name of Eurasian bullfinch, a pretty small bird with bright red tummy which is very visible in the snow.
10 min
48
Write about wrinkles - yours or on someone's
face, or maybe your character's. What stories wrinkles can tell?
OPTIONAL: Work on your fiction and share.
A kind wrinkly face looked at her, and she sensed the
open, wise spirit from its features, and even some sort of loveliness which is
usually hard to describe, but one can feel it with their heart, or maybe with
something bigger than a heart. It was as a choir of angels was singing from
every little wrinkle passing through this lovely face which only a sleeping one
could describe with this quick meaningless word – “old”. The silver voices sounded so
harmonious – as if someone’s healing hands held her whole being, softly
touching the very core of what was her soul.
5 min
It is hard to think in such short bursts of time but you have captured volumes.I hate chores too!
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