Kelly Bennett 12/9/23 Kelly Bennett 12/9/23

That Voice . . .

You know that little voice inside your head?

The voice behind the wagging finger?

The one that tells you want you should be doing…or should have done? Well, my little voice was talking all kinds of trash.

It may or may not have been why I was doing the OJ through JFK Thursday morning. (By OJ, I don’t mean perhaps stabbing "my" woman or high-speed racing cops down the freeway with the world watching. I mean sprinting through the airport jumping over suitcases ala Samsonite commercials from back when OJ was a rock-starish football hero.)

I was flying from JFK to Burlington, Vermont. My flight was scheduled for 9:10 am. My friend and fellow #VCFA UN (Unreliable Narrator), Cindy Faughnan was picking me up in Burlington.

***Looking into the mirror can a dive into the Black Hole…***

Excited about the trip, seeing friends, being back with writing friends, I was packed up, alarms—3 of them—set and ready to go with plenty of time, I thought . . .

But. . .

I may have pushed snooze

May have started daydreaming in the shower

May have used the high-magnification side of the make-up mirror—even though I hadn’t allowed time to apply make up at all—which showed a few errant eyebrow bristles that had to be plucked before I could leave. . .

(Where, I ask, was that darn little voice during all of that? It should have been warning me, telling me, hurrying me, but NO. . . )

So, I left home a little later—only 18 minutes—than planned. Big deal, I thought . . .

But. . . a highway lane was closed

Traffic was horrid

There was no gas station after the JFK exit . . .

So, I'm turning off the highway, onto the rental car return street, with about an hour to go before my flight was scheduled to leave. That’s when the little voice pipes up:

“You’re going to miss the flight.”

I’m trying not to listen but . . .

. . . That voice is loud, incessant:

“Why bother?” It’s telling me. “Turn around, find another gas station, fill up your tank, maybe get some breakfast cause there is no way in hell you’re making that flight, lady.”

That niggling little voice was persuasive. I could feel my foot lifting off the accelerator, could feel my arm muscles flex, ready to crank a U-Turn and go back to a gas station.

“La-la-la I don’t hear you,” I said, resigned to not refill the tank. “So, I’ll have to pay the rental car company premium for those few gallons,” I reasoned. “It’s less expensive than missing the flight.” I gunned the engine, roared into the rental car lot, pulled into the car return line. But. . . Where was the attendant? The shuttle bus was pulling away and there was no attendant!!!

“Told you!” said that little voice. “You’re too late. No way can you make the flight, now.”

Oh, yeah? Leaving the keys in, the car idling, I grabbed my suitcases, ran for the shuttle, tossed them inside and was about to ask the driver to call someone, when the attendant ambled out. “I’m going to be late,” I told him. “Please, check me in. Do I have to wait here?” I must have had that look on my face, because he kicked it into high, checked in the car and handed me the receipt before the shuttle door closed. (No questions about the lower fuel—I’m sure I’ll get an email about that soon.)

“Terminal 5,” I said.

The driver said: “You know we don’t go to the terminal. We stop at the Air Train.”

The little voice said:

“Give up already. No way you’re going to make this flight.”

“Yeah, but I can try.”

As that shuttle pulled up to that long, white tunnel leading to the escalator rising up to another escalator, to the Air Train station, with the huge Flight Board where all the flights, terminal numbers, gates, times and flight status posted overhead. And that little voice kept niggling, louder, as I searched the board for my flight where the status column was blinking, flashing in green: BOARDING.

So? So maybe I will miss my flight. But. . . maybe I won’t.

On the Airtrain, I tried using my phone to check-in for my flight, again. (I’d tried checking in 23 hours earlier, but hadn’t been able to.) But this time it did. Which bought me some time—and gave me hope—All I needed to do was get to the gate before boarding closed…

But . . . The Airtrain stop at terminal 5 is a long corridor, 3 escalators, and another long corridor and an escalator down to Check-in and Bag-Drop and there were all sorts of slow-walking, weaving, lagging people not in a hurry between me and checking-in.

And the clock was ticking inside, and my guts were twisting and that little voice was saying:

“You screwed up bad. You are not going to make this flight. Why did you put on make-up? You hadn’t planned for it. Why did you even bother showering? Why did you go to sleep at all? No way are you going to make this flight. . . ”

But . . . Maybe I can.

And maybe out of spite, when I tried to check in for my flight, the check-in kiosks couldn’t read my passport. “Told you,” taunted that little voice.

Shut up, I told it, and tried again, using my name. It worked! But a notice flashed saying it was too late to check bags and asked if I wanted to proceed without checking bags.

“You can’t do that,” said that little voice. “You have 2 bags and a purse. Besides, you probably have liquids in that bag you were going to check, too. You’re gonna get beeped…”

Maybe. Maybe not.

I completed the check-in, took my boarding pass and sped to the TSA pre-check line. The TSA guard was very nice and smiley as he told me my bag was too big, and I had too many, and he didn’t want to lose his job. And that little voice laughed and laughed.

Go on, laugh… I thought, and I didn't budge. I waited, with my eyes, urging the TSA guard to have pity. “Ask one of them to give permission for you to proceed," he said, directing me to the airline counter.

It was minutes until the Gate closed. The security line was long. The little voice was probably right: I was going to miss that flight.

Still, I did as directed. I walked—did not run—over to the Check-in desk. When the attendant asked what I wanted and I started tattling:

“That TSA guard wouldn’t let me go through,” I tattled. . . . “And now I’m going to miss my flight—” If I wasn’t actually, physically pouting, I was mentally, and that Jet Blue agent, may have been somebody’s mother, because she took my boarding pass. “Follow me,” she said, and started toward the long security line. And the now smiling “I’m on your side” TSA guard, waved me through.

“You’re still not going to make it,” that little voice was saying as I hoisted my 3 bags—which included the one I had planned to check that may or may not have liquids inside—onto the security belt.

“This is taking way too long,” that little voice taunted as my purse and boots went through the machine, then my first bag, but stalled with my 2nd bag, my may-have-liquids-or-a-corkscrew-inside-should-have-been-checked bag inside.

“GIVE IT UP!” that little voice hollered, as the security guard hauled my bag over to the machine for manual inspection and to be swabbed for explosives.

That little taunting, niggling, needling voice was making me crazy. But . . .

Even when I looked up at the Flight Status sign and saw a bold, all caps CLOSED sign next to my flight, even though the gate my flight was leaving from was—through the tangled Starbucks line—farthest away, I kept going.

“It’s gone!” that little voice said, “You screwed up. You are a mess. You blew it, sister!” as I passed Starbucks and the Gate sign came into view, and beneath and around it I saw a huge crowd gathered, and my spirits began to lift, my hopes soar: Maybe I hadn’t missed it! They’re still boarding.

“Yeah right…”said the little voice.

And it was right. It wasn’t my gate. The crowd wasn’t for my flight. My gate was the empty gate next to it.

I slowed. Excused my way through the crowd and walked toward the attendant at the empty check-in desk at my gate. She was talking with another woman who might or might not be a passenger—please be a passenger. The gateway door was still open. As I approached with my 2 bags and purse, red-faced and out of breath, cursing that little voice, the attendant motioned that other woman aside. She looked at me and said, “Mrs. Bennett? We’ve been waiting for you.”

That’s the thing about that little voice: It’s gonna talk.

There is not one single thing we can do about that. There’s no way to silence it, either. (At least I can’t. And I’ve tried.)

But, there is something we can do . . .

NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION #1: Decide not to listen.

Little Voice Playlist:

Something to Talk About by Bonnie Raitt
Leaving on a Jet Plane by Peter, Paul & Mary

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Kelly Bennett 1/24/22 Kelly Bennett 1/24/22

What inspires me #4 Two Thousand One Hundred Ten

2110 whoopee! Not talking dollars. Or baseball. Although I do love baseball. And I do have a baseball book forthcoming next spring: The House Babe Ruth Built, a celebration of Babe Ruth’s historic first homer in baseball’s first stadium, comes out Spring 2022 from Familius, just in time for the 100th anniversary of the original Yankee Stadium (more about that later).

Today I’m reposting this cat I let out of the bag 1710 days ago. PSSSSSSSST It’s been a secret! A secret-secret I’ve been doing that now, on this 2110th day, I'm Celebrating! Cue the Band!

“...be kind to your fine feathered friends/for a duck maybe some-body’s mo-th-er!”

For 2110 consecutive days, midst three moves, construction, vacations, births, goodbyes, hellos, and oh no! I have generated a poem a day.

No, I am not going to share any of my poems here, now. (You're safe...for now!}

No, I did not do it alone!

Nor would I ever have imagined getting to day 2110. That's why I'm telling you about it.

Is there something you've been meaning to try, but haven't?

Perhaps a personal goal? Maybe a resolution? Do you keep saying to yourself, as I have/do/probably will again: "I'll start next week" . . . "After the holiday, really" . . . "Tomorrow." . . Tomorrow. . . tomorrow. . . tomorrow . . . tomorrow . . . tomorrow . . .

What's the Gimmick? Gotta Have Skin in the Game.

Here's what I mean: I committed to the challenge with a friend. The rules of the game were set in writer's blood (aka "Ink"). We pledged to email or text our assignments to each other every day by midnight. Or else...

It's that "Or Else" that made the difference.

Rewards & Consequences: Some folks respond better to positive reinforcement. I've shared previously how my author-mentor-friend the late Paula Danziger bought herself pieces of amber jewelry but...gave them to her editor to hold until she met a deadline. In order to get SE Hinton to write her second novel (after The Outsiders), her then boyfriend waited each day for her to finish her pages. Others reward themselves by putting dollars into a honey pot. (Big bucks!)

Rewards do not work for me. It is too easy not to pay myself. Nor have I yet found a payoff big enough (and attainable) to entice me to do anything...and I mean An-ny-thing!

I need Consequences, penalties, shame. That's what motivates me. Deadlines with consequences. So, in order to insure that I'd stick with the challenge, I set a penalty a miserable embarrassing consequence. I pledge to complete each days prompt and send it to Cindy by midnight. If failed I vowed to donate $50 to Trump's campaign publically--on Facebook. Pre-election that was the stiffest-realistic-penalty I could imagine. One I was not willing to pay and so, I did the work Every. Single. Day. Here's the 1-2-3 of it:

Set a "realistic" Goal
Set a "clear" Consequence or Reward
Set a Timer (The secret ingredient!) Cindy and I devoted 7 1/2 minutes each day to complete the prompts. That's it 7 1/2 minutes. Read. Set Timer. Go.

I was amazed at what we accomplished in 7 1/2 minutes. GDC: a concrete GOAL, a set DEADLINE, and a CONSEQUENCE for not meeting that deadline was exactly the motivation I needed to stick with the journal, especially through those first couple of days, then weeks, and vacations, and late nights, and yucky prompts. The answer is YES I CAN!

Tomorrow is here. 2110 down, more to go!

Celebrating 2103 Playlist:

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Kelly Bennett 1/2/21 Kelly Bennett 1/2/21

On Gardening Leave....Still? Again?

Happy 2021! As we fly…leap…creep into a new year, many of us (ME) are reflecting on where we’ve been, and what the heck we did—or didn’t do—these past nine months. A prompt from a blogger at OutwitTrade prompted me to revisit this post written just before we repatriated from Trinidad. The theme then: “Should we be worried? Or Happy?” is oddly, scarily, the same now, with vaccines on the way and CoVid Cases on the rise. So I’m reposting today. Lots to think about:

Is "Gardening Leave" the same as being "Put Out to Pasture"? If it is, should we be worried? Or happy?

Four years, three months ago, Curtis and I moved to Trinidad from Indonesia. Seven years before that we'd moved to Indonesia from Houston.

The day after April Fool's Day, loaded down with 6 suitcases, 2 carry-ons and lots of memories--especially of our dear Trini friends--Curtis and I boarded a plane bound for New York, and whatever comes after. . .

Why we were New York and not Houston or somewhere else Bound?

Several years ago, while my Creativity Group (or the GGs as we called ourselves) was working through The Passion Test, I came to the realization that I wanted-needed-a base, a home, a nest of our own.

So, we went searching for that nest and finally found one in a seaside village of Westhampton Beach on Long Island. It met all our requirements--the requirements of late mid-life: Withing 2 hours of an International Airport; good doctors, hospital, within walking/biking distance to all the necessities.

If you're wondering what "Renovation" means, this sums it up... sans the theatre/romance/fun subplot.

A better/worse/more realistic example...

Our Vene Mange "Mini Band" won 3rd place in Carnival 2016

We proceeded to make the nest our own

And then, little more ours . . .

Fast forward three years. . .

We knew this day would come. Curtis's Trinidad & Tobago Work Permit expired on March 31t. We'd been planning for it. Working toward it. We thought our builder was too...

This morning, as we were meeting with the electrician to decide where we should position the lights, outlets, switches, cables and wires needed to complete this reno, with detritus from our six suitcases & 4 carry-ons scattered throughout our crowded "nest" Curtis got the call we'd been expecting. As of today, Curtis is officially on "Gardening Leave," whatever that means...

Am I nervous? Excited? Scared? A little worries? Sure am!

Here's one thing I've learned these 4 years in Trinidad:

Trini hearts must beat with the rhythm of the steel pan. I'm sure of it when I see Trini's move and when I hear them speak. Sentences blend and bounce, ending with a upturn, a lilt. I try to recreate the accent but mine comes out sounding leprechaun.

Even courtesy greeting to passerbys dance. No quick, curt "Hi," or nod of the head. Joggers sweating and puffing their way up steep Lady Chancellor hill this past Saturday morning sang out, "Mornin' Mornin'" "G'day! G'day!" just as they had every other day. Morning greetings, regardless the age of the speaker, come twice.

Curious about the origin of this charming greeting custom, I'd looked it up when we first came to Trinidad. I recall something about how the custom stems from back when servants manners better be above reproach. (Although when I searched just now for that reference, I couldn't find it.)

I asked a Trini friend about the two-call greeting and she said she recalled her grandmother saying it was about not risking being considered rude. "Trinidad is a small community," she explained. "If you're not related to someone, you know someone who is. If it ever got back to our family that we hadn't been polite, hadn't greeted someone properly, we'd catch the devil. Better to say it twice and be sure to be heard."

Knowing this charming custom grew out of fear--fear of losing one's position or risking punishment--a "Better safe than sorry," mentality, should, I suppose, make me enjoy it less. On the contrary. I think there's something to this idea that if one has something important enough to say once, we should make sure it's heard. And if that means saying it twice, sing out!

So now, today, with Gardening Leave (and whatever it entails) about to begin, we're taking a cue from our Trini Friends: We're Ready! We're Ready!

"Gardening Leave" Playlist

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Kelly Bennett 10/11/20 Kelly Bennett 10/11/20

We Need to Talk About First Ladies . . .

Or, Who's going to worry about the China Collection?

NOTE: THIS IS A REPOST FROM THE LAST PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION. AS IT IS STILL TIMELY, I’M SHARING IT AGAIN (The only update is the election date…what does that say about the current First Ladie’s contributions???)

It’s less than a month until Tuesday, November 3, 2020-Election Day! (I’ll be voting—I hope you will too.)

Even if you are sick, sad, tired, disgusted by this presidential campaign thus far—VOTE!

Even if you don’t want to vote for either of the presidential candidates—Please, go to the Polls & VOTE! Presidents aside, there are many other issues on the ballots: Propositions, inc. TAX proposals; elected officials . . . i.e. local & state issues that should concern & will affect you. Remember the Revolution? Taxation Without Representation? (If you don’t VOTE that’s what you’ll be getting.)

Assuming we are all voting, we need to talk about First Ladies. Every other election I can recall, the First Lady has played a huge part in the campaign. Copious hours of media attention has been paid to candidates for First Lady, too.

In the last election, Ann Romney, headlined at well over 40 fundraisers. Contrast that to this campaign. As noted it this Sept 16th CNN report, Melania Trump’s been AWOL pretty much since that July 18th National Convention speech… you know, the one she sort of copied from our current—extremely visible and popular first lady, Michelle Obama.

Likewise, I haven’t noticed much campaigning from Past Pres. Bill Clinton either. So few that the fundraisers Bill subbed at when Hillary had pneumonia stand out. I’m sure, as former President, Bill has been campaigning and fundraising—as a recent Washington Post article “Two Clintons. 41 Years. $3 Billion.” noted, the Clinton’s are pros at fundraising.

To me, the absence of media attention on First Ladies (will that be “First Partners” going forward? Or something else?) is disconcerting. I missed seeing either of the First Lady/Partner? standing behind her/his Man/Woman when their spouses accepted their party’s nominations. And where are the fashion features we’d come to expect? You know the round ups of Jackie’s Hats? Nancy’s penchant for red jackets that led to all of us buying at least one red “Power Blazer.” Or, more recently, Hillary’s First Lady candidate hairdos & cankles? Michelle’s weight and wardrobe updates—and hair, of course. Why isn’t the media chatting about Melania’s hair and clothing—or lack of it? We sure rear plenty about Donald’s hair…why not Bills? Or his wardrobe update? There were heaps of articles about Presidential Candidates ties in past elections. One, “The Psychology of Tie Color,” comparing Mitt’s ties to Barack’s concluded that Republicans prefer blue ties while Democrats go for red. But what about Bill’s ties? If the color of Nancy’s blazer mattered, shouldn’t the color of Bill’s tie?

Fashion aside, let’s focus on what should matter:

According to Wikipedia (the source of all “free”—as in writers are not compensated for their research, verbiage, or time—encyclopedic knowledge) “The First Lady of the United States is the hostess of the White House. . . The First Lady is not an elected position; it carries no official duties and receives no salary. Nonetheless, she attends many official ceremonies and functions of state either along with or in place of the president. Traditionally, the First Lady does not hold outside employment while occupying the office.[1] She has her own staff, including the White House Social Secretary, the Chief of Staff, the Press Secretary, the Chief Floral Designer, and the Executive Chef. The Office of the First Lady is also in charge of all social and ceremonial events of the White House, and is a branch of the Executive Office of the President.”

What do the First Partner candidates plan to accomplish in office? Have any of you heard what issue Bill or Melania plan to battle when he/she is First Partner? Along with serving as hostess, and traditionally selecting the “State China, recent first ladies choose a cause to champion. BTW: Michelle Obama’s choice was “Kailua Blue."

I wonder, is Bill thinking about whether to choose his own china pattern or add to the pale yellow and gold “Clinton China” commemorating the bicentennial of the White House, Hillary selected. And what about Melania? Is she mulling over causes to champion? Or doesn’t it matter anymore? Did it every, really? Were all those article, all the media attention paid to past First Ladies, just filler?

As an American female, I have always paid close attention to First Ladies. It seemed that they, and the causes they championed were important. I googled “Causes First Ladies Championed,” and they were! And they did make a difference. If you doubt it, rewatch the episode of Mad Men where the Draper family went on a picnic. Imagine how high the litter on our highways, roadsides & parks would look like now if Lady Bird Johnson hadn't campaigned for highway beautification?

Here are some causes First Ladies are remembered for championing today.* What mark will the next First Partner make on America & the World?

Michelle Obama: Childhood Obesity
Laura Welch Bush: Childhood Literacy
Hillary Rodham Clinton: Historic Preservation & Health Care
Barbara Pierce Bush: National Literacy
Nancy Davis Reagan: Red Blazers and “Just Say No!”
Rosalynn Smith Carter: Mental Health Care
Elizabeth Bloomer Ford: Alcoholism is an illness, AA awareness
Patricia Ryan Nixon: Volunteerism & Restoring the Whitehouse
Claudia “Lady Bird’ Johnson: Beautify America, wildflowers & anti-litter
Jacqueline Kennedy: Pill box hats, glamour and big sunglasses
Bess Truman: Consummate Hostess
Mamie Geneva Doud Eisenhower: “Million Dollar Fudge”
Eleanor Roosevelt: Humanitarian, Equality for African Americans
Lou Henry Hoover: Athletics & Girl Scouts
Ellen Axson Wilson: Better Urban Housing
Lucy Ware Webb Hayes: “Lemonade Lucy” Temperance
Mary Todd Lincoln: Care & Service to Union Soldiers & Freed Slaves
Louisa Catherine Johnson Adams: Women’s Rights
Dolley Madison: Hostess to 2 Presidents, saved Washington’s portrait when the White House Burned, Orphan Care
Abigail Adams: Wrote Letters to her husband, John
Martha Washington: Set an example by hosting weekly receptions in the White House

*First Ladies not listed may well have championed causes. Frankly, I didn’t want to take the time to research more. If you know other’s causes, send word and I will add them.

First Ladies Playlist:

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Kelly Bennett 9/10/17 Kelly Bennett 9/10/17

7-MINUTE STRETCH:#1 Poetry Challenge-If You Dare...

I've got a proposition for you. A challenge. A dare. . .

The gauntlet to undertake a similar challenge was tossed to me by my writing bud, Cindy Faughnan, some 540 days ago--and I caught it! I can't say it has been easy, or convenient, but it has made me a better something?! Maybe it will you, too. So come on, try it! What have you got to lose?

7-Minute Poetry Challenge

Write a poem, a paragraph or a story in seven minutes. Here's how:

Read the prompt

Set the timer for 7 minutes

Start writing!

Don't think about it too much; just do it. If the prompt moves you, follow it. If it sparks something else, go with it! Our 7-Minute Poetry Challenge is not about writing great poetry; or writing what is expected; it's not even about writing anything good. It's about one thing, writing IT!

Challenge #1 The First Day

On the first day of school what things do you bring? A backpack? Pen? Paper? Maybe you’ll wear a new pair of jeans or shoes?

Think about it: Not only will it be your first day of school, it will be that “things” first day of school too. How do you think those “things” feel about going to school for the first time? Write a “First Day of School” poem from the point of view of one of those things.

Note: It can be the first day of anything. Just tell the story from the point of view of one of the thing you bring with you that first day.

For Inspiration read: SCHOOL'S FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, written by Adam Rex and illustrated by Christian Robinson (Roaring Brook Press, 2016), the story of the first day of school as told by Fredrick Douglass Elementary—a brand new school building!

Gavin & Keira were up the the Challenge. As you can read below, Gavin's Binder shared. Keira's dress was "shy" on that first day:

If, like Keira & Gavin, you're up for the 7-Minute Poetry Challenge, please let us know by posting the title of your poem under "Comments". Or if you would like, share your poem (or whatever the prompt inspired you to create!) We would love to see IT!

This is only the beginning. Cindy and I will post a new challenge prompt once a week—every seven days. We invite you to take the 7-Minute Poetry Challenge with us.

And, please share our Challenge with your friends, students, classmates... (even those, like me, who are absolutely, positively, NOT poets!) After all, the state of the world being what it is, to paraphrase the Beatles: Poetry is All We Need!

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Kelly Bennett 8/30/17 Kelly Bennett 8/30/17

Fie on Harvey, Fie!

HARVEY rose up from the Gulf waters like one of those menacing cartoon storm clouds on Aug. 27th, 2017. My mother's 81st birthday. Harvey was definitely no cartoon we could click off when it grew too terrifying.

As I write, the rain is still falling, the rescue efforts are ongoing, people are still trapped and scared, animals are missing, and worse--much worse--the evil in us has reared it's nasty, greedy head--looters are prowling. But. . .

Goodness! Kindness! Compassion! Win! And that is what I, We, cling to.

Our Friend's mid-town Houston patio, garden and pool, Aug.27, when the rains came.

You may have noticed (maybe not) that I've been Blog silent for the summer. Not because I didn't have anything to say (I always have something to say. . . ) Since January blues set in (preceeded by election disbelief-fear-healthcare despair . . . ), I have been reconsidering the energy I want to send. Our collective response to Harvey gladdens my heart. That what I break my silence to CELEBRATE!

As soon as the news broke that Harvey was coming, people from all over reached out with offers of help. Facebook messages flooded my inbox: "I have a boat! A generator! A room! An open door!" . . . Red Cross mobilized, communities banded together, individuals joined forces, support for relief efforts grew and grows! Here's news footage of some rescues.

Our friends Dan & Kristin Stacy of Royal Fig Catering in Austin, are one example of how people are stepping up to help. Along with Royal Fig employees, friends, family and food & supplies donated by Austin businesses and folks, drove through the middle of the storm to set up a kitchen at Texas Children's Hospital where they are now cooking for the staff--cupcakes included. National and local companies are sending relief, Texas Football star, JJ Watts kicked-off a relief YOUCare Compassionate Crowd Fund with a $100,000 donation that's now risen to more than $5.6 million so far, and the rain is still falling.

Unfortunately, when the rain ends, and the waters receded, often so does the attention. And saddest to say, as heartening as they are, the funds pledged to date are just a drop in the bucket compared to what will be needed. Officials have estimated the amount needed to rebuild will be in the BILLIONS.

After the storm is when the most, long-term help is and will be needed. Let's be there, together. Let's bring the Sun!

FIE ON HARVEY! HOW WE CAN HELP:

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Kelly Bennett 6/7/17 Kelly Bennett 6/7/17

Slacker? Maybe . . . NOT!

It's not often, even when visiting a school, that I'm invited to lunch in the Teacher's Lounge. And before this week, I didn't realize that could be a good thing. But, maybe it is...

You know that old adage, "Eavesdropper seldom here good of themselves"? Well I was sitting there chatting with teachers at one table while behind me another table of teachers discussed my mornings presentation. How do I know? Because, as a self proclaimed committed eavesdropper, my ears bent back and cranked to high as soon as my name was mentioned. Anyway, here's what I overheard, read it in your envy-greenest disdainful voice: "She said she only writes for two hours a day--blah blah blah--I wish I only had to work two hours a day . . .

On the way home, that night, the next morning, and after, unlike any other school visit, ever, the only thing I could recall was that teacher's comment. It bothered me so much I told Curtis about it. "What should I have told them? A lie?"

““What should I have told them? A lie?””

— agonized response following the teacher's lounge rebuke

A few days later, sweet Curtis sent me the perfect response by way of an article from the Natulus blog entitled:

Darwin Was a Slacker and You Should Be Too

Many famous scientists have something in common—they didn’t work long hours.

In the article, ALEX SOOJUNG-KIM PANG (author of REST and THE DISTRACTION ADDICTION), explores how many acclaimed scientists, scholars, thinkers--i.e. Charles Darwin, Charles Dickens, Henri Poincaré, and Ingmar Bergman--spent very few hours doing deep work--2 to 4 hours a day in fact doing their "important work."

“The rest of the time, they were hiking mountains, taking naps, going on walks with friends, or just sitting and thinking. ”

— Darwin Was A Slacker, March 30, 2017

While the "10,000 hour" theory, Malcom Gladwell expounds in his book The Outliers (originally put forth in a study of outstanding violinists), holds true, in order for the 10,000 hours of practice to be fruitful, it only counts if those are hours of "Deliberate Practice," capital D, capital P, as in practice that is "focused, structured, and offers clear goals and feedback; it requires paying attention to what you’re doing and observing how you can improve."

Turns out even the most gifted, committed students aren't capable of more than, at most, 4 hours of Deliberate Practice.

What's more, (and what is especially reassuring) is how, along with focused deliberate practice, these outstanding practitioners also sleep more! But not at night. Turns out, these great thinkers and doers nap. Capital N-A-P!

“About four hours a day. About the same amount of time Darwin spent every day doing his hardest work, Hardy and Littlewood spent doing math, Dickens and King spent writing...four hours of really focused, serious effort per day.”

I'm sharing this in case you, like me, have been called "Slacker", or worse. May (as I do) called yourself the same, all because you (like me) can't or won't keep your butt in the chair for more than a few hours at a stretch. Take heart!

And, Give Yourself A Break!--Lots of them!

Slacker? Playlist:

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Kelly Bennett 1/18/17 Kelly Bennett 1/18/17

Celebrating Hitting 300!

Nope. Not talking baseball. Although I do love baseball. However . . . Ever since that time my boy Max was catching and I was up, batting lefty, and caught him in the head on my backswing . . . well, suffice to say, I'm benched.

But I have been doing something in secret that now, on this 300th day, I'm Celebrating! Cue the Band!

“...be kind to your fine feathered friends/for a duck maybe some-body’s mo-th-er!”

For 300 consecutive days, midst two moves, construction, vacation, births and birthdays etc. etc. I have completed a poetry prompt ala Bernard Friot's The Aspiring Poet's Journal.

No, I am not going to share any of my poems here, now. (You're safe...for now!}

No, I did not do it alone!

Nor would I ever imagined getting to day 300. And that's what why I'm telling you about it.

Is there something you've been meaning to try, but haven't?

What's the Gimmick? Gotta Have Skin in the Game.

It's that "Or Else" that made the difference.

Rewards do not work for me. It is too easy not to pay myself. Nor have I yet found a payoff big enough (and attainable) to entice me to do anything...and I mean An-ny-thing!

I need Consequences, penalties, shame. That's what motivates me. Deadlines with consequences. So, in order to insure that I'd stick with the challenge, I set a penalty a miserable embarrassing consequence. I pledge to complete each days prompt and send it to Cindy by midnight. If failed I vowed to donate $50 to Trump's campaign publically--on Facebook. Pre-election that was the stiffest-realistic-penalty I could imagine. One I was not willing to pay and so, I did the work Every. Single. Day. Here's the 1-2-3 of it:

Set a "realistic" Goal
Set a "clear" Consequence or Reward
Set a Timer (The secret ingredient!) Cindy and I devoted 7 1/2 minutes each day to complete the prompts. That's it 7 1/2 minutes. Read. Set Timer. Go.

I was amazed at what we accomplished in 7 1/2 minutes. Having a set deadline and consequence for not meeting was exactly the motivation I needed to stick with the journal, especially through those first couple of days, then weeks, and vacations, and late nights, and yucky prompts. The answer is YES I CAN!

Tomorrow is here. 300 down, 65 to go!

Celebrating 300 Playlist: