T.J. BROWN BLOG
Forthcoming!
As some of you may have noticed, I have been doing a little work here on the website in preparation of all the good things to come. I added a page called Forthcoming which is where I’ll put upcoming releases. While the covers are not completed yet, I am putting the rough back cover copy here so y’all can get excited. (So be excited!) So without further ado, I am giving you FORTHCOMING!
Fall River
Brown’s deliciously eerie page-turner is as shocking and haunting as the murders upon which it’s based. A daring, enthralling journey into the darkest depths of the human mind. Fall River held me in its chilling grip from start to finish.
—Cat Winters, Bram Stoker Award nominee for In the Shadow of Blackbirds
What if the best Lizzie Borden story isn’t about Lizzie at all?
In the summer of1878, Clara Lodge, a15-year-old orphan, is sent to live with her cousin, Lizzie Borden in Fall River, Massachusetts. What begins as an uneasy stay inside the oppressive Borden household soon spirals into a season of dread that leaves Clara marked with secrets and scars that she will carry for the rest of her life.
Now married and far from Fall River, Clara has achieved a fragile peace of mind, but when Lizzie is accused of murdering her parents, Clara is drawn back to the city she fled. To heal, she must confront the cousin she fears, the memories she buried, and the truth she tried so hard to forget.
Told across three timelines in one woman’s life, Fall River is a chilling blend of history, psychological suspense, and gothic horror—a reimagining of the Borden legend that asks: how long can the past stay buried before it comes for you?
Perfect for fans of Simone St. James, Kate Morton, and Jennifer McMahon, Fall River is a frightening and unforgettable reimagining of the Borden story.
Puppet (May, 2026)
When Azzura (Az) Collodi, an aspiring puppeteer, is asked to perform for a mysterious puppet master at the Palazzo Grimani, she’s torn. On one hand, it’s a dream come true, on the other, her grandfather, one of the most famous marionette makers in Europe, would strongly disapprove. Rudolpho Collodi might have been a brilliant toymaker, but he was also a notorious occultist and ruled the family—Az’s twin brother and their silent, beautiful mother with an iron fist, rarely letting anyone out of his sight. If caught, her punishment would be banishment from everything she’s ever known and yet the lure of proving herself on stage is undeniable and she agrees on the condition of anonymity.
Az is soon drawn into the cutthroat, competitive world of Venetian puppetry, where nothing is as it seems, including the puppet master who knows more about her than he should, and the secretive actor who plays opposite her in the play—as Pinocchio. As her 21st birthday approaches—the day a witch’s power fully manifests— she discovers that she is animator and her talent as a puppeteer is due to her ability to bring marionettes to life. When she learns that a curse has been placed on her family, she must find out who did it and why before her family is destroyed.
Filled with witchcraft, romance and betrayal, Puppet is set against the colorful backdrop of the 1895 Venetian Carnival and retells the story of Pinocchio—through the eyes of the Blue Fairy.
Covers coming soon!
Looking for Laguna (aka doing the scary thing)
I believe a couple of things that make this post possible.
1. Doing the aligned action even if it’s the scary thing. This is that scary thing.
2. Sharing your art even if it’s messy. This is that messy thing.
It’s been years since I’ve shared my art publically outside the virtual classroom. My agent and a few of my beta readers and friends have seen my writing, but I have published nothing but the occasional random bog since 2020. I wrote this piece for my publishing and new media class. The assignment was symbolism and this is what I came up with. A short story about running away and then running home.
Enjoy.
Looking for Laguna
By Teri Brown
Your phone beeps, signaling a message. Your gut clenches. Just what you need—a message from Digger.
You dial to retrieve it, tapping in your password with one hand while steering the car with the other. His voice hits your chest like a well-aimed horse’s hoof. You remember the year it changed, cracking into squeaky high notes before settling into the deep, sexy tone that still makes you weak in the knees.
“Hey Jace. I just thought we should talk. I know you said you wanted to end things, but I just can’t believe that’s what you really want.” There’s a pause, and you almost end the call, but then his voice continues. “I’m thinking that I should come out to the ranch today. I got my packet from the University for the married couples housing in Eugene. We got in.” Another pause. “Anyway, let me know what you think. I love you, you know?”
You do know. And love isn’t just blind—it’s deaf and dumb, too, because you don’t know how much clearer you could have been. Pissed off and heartsick, you text NO, hit send, and slip the phone into the side pocket of your 1970 VW Bug. It’s just as well you’ve left. Clearly, he doesn’t listen.
The message leaves you uneasy, though. How much longer can you fool your ex-fiancé into thinking you’re somewhere you’re not? Or your parents, for that matter?
You press your foot down on the accelerator, driven by a sudden need to put as many miles between you and Digger as possible. California, here you come. That’s the dream. Once you get there, you can be someone else. Someone glamorous and free.
Falling in love with Digger just confused you for a bit, that’s all.
You ignore the doubt that settled in the pit of your stomach sometime yesterday between Miles City and Billings and concentrate on the road. Wiggling in your seat, you try to stretch out your spine. Turns out VW bugs may look cool, but vintage seats were not made for comfort.
“I can drive for a bit if you want me to,” Ryan surprises you. You thought he was asleep.
“Nope. No offense, but I hardly know you. For all I know you drive like a maniac. Besides, no one drives my car except for me.”
And Digger, a little voice inside your head reminds you.
Oh, shut up.
“You’re the one who ran me off the road and killed my car,” Ryan points out.
You shrug. “Your car looked like it was already on its death bed.”
He laughs. “Truth.”
Turns out Ryan was going to California, too. You can’t imagine what Digger or your parents would say about picking up a stranger, but you felt responsible for his predicament. Plus, he’s paying for gas and the company keeps you from thinking about Digger too much.
You and Digger were supposed to get married in August and then head to the University of Oregon, where Digger had gotten a scholarship. You were going to work and go to a community college while he played football for the Ducks.
Who gets married at eighteen in this day and age?
You saw what happened to your own parents after marrying young. Hell, everyone in Resolute, North Dakota was a spectator of that particular war. You ignored it by watching old shows like Laguna Beach and The Hills and dreaming of escape. Your fairy tale is about endless beaches, blue skies, and designer clothes. Not football and rain, no matter how much you love watching Digger play.
Next to you, Ryan points to a sign. “There’s a campground up ahead. Why don’t we stop there?”
You turn and you’re instantly swallowed up in trees and brush, and you can barely see ahead or behind you. You slow even more and concentrate on missing the rocks while your ancient car lurches and sways down the road. You wish you had a clear path. You wish you could see ahead of you. You wish you had Digger’s old four-wheel drive. Then you push the truck out of your mind because so much of what was important in your life happened in the cab of that truck. You learned to drive in that truck. You learned to kiss in that truck. You watched Hell Boy at the Resolute Drive In in that truck, not caring that you guys had already been there four time or that metal speaker hanging limply in the window barely worked because the thigh pressing warmly against yours belonged to Digger.
You’re going to miss that truck.
“Watch out!” Ryan yells.
You spot a streak of gray and swerve, seconds before hearing a sickening thud against the front of your car.
“What was that?” You slam on the brakes and leap out of the car.
About three feet off the road lies a huge raccoon. He’s on his back with stiff legs pointing to the sky.
Tears sting your eyes, and you squeeze them shut. You killed an animal. You don’t kill animals. You don’t even eat animals. You’re probably the only rancher’s daughter in North Dakota to ever become a vegetarian.
Now you’ve gone and killed a raccoon.
“Jaci?” Ryan puts his arm around you. You hadn’t even heard him get out of the car. “Are you okay?”
You shake your head, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes. You bury your face in his shoulder, glad you’re not alone. “I didn’t mean to hit it.”
“I know.”
Suddenly, more than anything, you want Ryan to be Digger. The chest you’re crying against is the wrong chest, the arms holding you are the wrong arms—even the t-shirt smells wrong. You gasp with the wrongness. How did you get on this timeline? Why did you think running away was the answer? Why did you, an eighteen-year-old country girl from Resolute, North Dakota, think that you were going to find fame and fortune in California? As if your fake highlights and designer knockoffs would suddenly change and your skin would glow, your body would morph from strong rancher girl to California beach sleek and you would be, what? Happier? Happier than in Digger’s arms? Grief guts you, as much for what you have done to you and Digger as for the prostrate raccoon.
“Jaci?”
You pull back and notice that you’re getting snot on the front of his shirt. “What?”
“I think it’s alive.”
“What?”
You turn away from him in time to see the animal shiver. You wipe your nose on your sleeve. Just then, the raccoon sits up and huffs, indignation written all over his drunken sailor face. He chatters and makes his way into the waiting arms of a skinny brown-haired girl who looks no more than ten.
“Are you okay, Hell Boy?” she asks, cuddling her pet. “Did those mean people hurt you?” She glares at you before ambling off towards the campground just beyond the tree line.
“Hell Boy”? Ryan laughs, but it barely registers.
If Digger were here, he’d toss out a quote right now. “I wish I could do something about this, but I can’t. But I can promise you two things—one, I’ll always look this good and two, I’ll never give up on you… ever.”
You laugh, even as tears run down your face. You know. You know what you’re supposed to do. Could California offer love? Laughter? The knowingness of someone always having your back? You don’t need a California fairytale. You can write your own story. “Everything’s all wrong,” you tell Ryan, hiccoughing gently.
“I’m going home.”
Thoughts on Capacity Part One
What is Capacity?
According to a quick Google search, capacity is the maximum amount that something can contain.
The problem with this definition is that I am not a thing and I only have two arms, so my capacity to hold is limited. Yet, people say my capacity is huge. What they mean is that I do a lot. I admit, I’m kind of driven. For those of you who don’t know me, I am a planner, a doer, a goal setter, a list maker. I have a tendency to juggle, drop balls and then juggle some more.
Cap sun/Virgo rising, thank you very much.
For instance, right now, I work full time, finishing up a degree in English Lit and Creative Writing, on the Library Board for my little town, a Firewise USA Coordinator, (also for my little town), and active in the grange. In addition, I am rebranding and reigniting my writing career. I also garden, can, bake sourdough and soup for neighbors and am helping my husband remodel our 1910 bungalow. I don’t say this to brag about myself, but to talk about capacity and how and why mine has grown over the years—without the chronic anxiety that I used to get. Oh, sure, I still get overwhelmed, but I am so much more centered and relaxed. Busyness is not the answer.
Alignment is.
So that’s the first secret of growing your capacity. Knowing who you are and what activities align with your core belief system. I recently did an activity with my writing coach that asked a simple question:
What do you do and why do you do it?
1. I build community because I believe that is the only way to create a better world for my grandchildren and ALL the grandchildren of the world. That’s why I am on the library board, am active in the grange, and started Firewise.
2. I move, track my food and cook mostly from scratch because I believe that health fundamental. This is also why I garden, preserve food and share good food with my neighbors and community.
3. Continuing education is important to me because it is a way to keep my brain active, go deeper into my craft (writing) and positively impact the world. This is why I returned to school, am working with a writing mentor and take workshops on everything from money management to publishing to community building.
Aligning my beliefs with my behavior is one way that I stretch my capacity. It doesn’t feel like work, it feels like my life. Sure, I get stressed… Last week, I almost missed a deadline for an important grant. It took a lot of phone calls to gather the materials that I needed. I needed some serious down time after that!
So the first thing is to figure out what you value and then let your activities arise out of those values. After that, I honestly believe the sky is the limit… with the right tools and I will write about those in the next post!
Two Years AF AF
I have been alcohol free for two years today.
One of the best things about journaling on a regular basis is that I can look back and see the woman that I was. How did I come to that decision? It’s all there. I hadn’t hit rock bottom. There wasn’t a big drunken argument with my husband. I just decided after a weekend of too much alcohol while moving into my little home in the high desert, that enough was enough.
I had been sober curious for a couple of years before that. There was this nagging feeling that in order for me to continue growing, I had to treat myself and my body better. Alcohol is without a doubt a toxin and I was willingly disrespecting myself for short term fun. Plus, belonging to five wine clubs was a tad excessive, not to mention expensive.
So I asked myself, “How good can it get if I just… stopped.
It wasn’t easy. Alcohol is pervasive and a major part of our culture. Every get together included alcohol. Entire experiences were couched in “Where should we go for pre-event cocktails?” “What wine would go with that particular meal?” Even the healthy outdoor activities I loved so much began or ended with a drink. After all, what better way to end a ten-mile hike than with burgers and beer?
But I did it. I had no idea that I was operating most of the time with a very low level hangover from that glass of wine the night before until it was no longer part of my routine. That beer was interfering with my sleep. That my mornings were better without drinking the night before. Now, two years later, I can say without a doubt that it was one of the best things I have ever done for myself.
How much better could it get? So. Much. Better. Exponentially better. To be fair, I moved, changed careers and returned to school during that time, but I have no doubt that leaving alcohol behind accelerated my personal and spiritual growth, as well as my physical health. Even though I’ve had some health setbacks in the past few months, I am stronger and more resilient than I have ever been. Quite simply, everything is better without alcohol.
So I raise glass of sparkling water to my younger self, thanking her for her foresight and sticktoitiveness. You go girl!
Hello Again
It’s been a minute. Or perhaps several years. Longer you say? Welp.
In case you don’t know me, my name is Teri Brown. In addition to being a wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, I am an author, community builder and public servant. I am a seeker, a former runner (stupid knee), small business supporter, meditation practitioner and avid reader. I believe in the importance of communication, gardens, strength training and the healing power of puppies.
The world is on fire right now, so I decided to do what I do best and reach out with my words when my anxiety is high. Anxiety sucks out energy that could be better used to make the world a better place. It’s a joy thief in a world where joy is an act of rebellion.
So what am I going to do today to build my own capacity for joy?
*Try to forget the fact that I woke up at 1:00AM
*Drink lots of coffee
*Strength train
*Meditate
*Journal
*Make someone smile
If you have found me here, welcome. I will blog primarily on the minutia that creates a life. I wish you joy today.
On Running, Writing and Recipes
It was a good week in spite of the fact that my love was doing his due diligence at the Powder House. Oh, who am I kidding, dude went to ski at Anthony Lakes with one of our best friends! And ski, he did. Looks absolutely incredible. If I liked skiing. Actually, it just looks cold. But hey, if that what makes him happy.
Even if he’s not painting like I would like him to, he is ridding the house of the mice who’ve decided to move in. With the house empty so much of the time, the rodents thought it was a good place to winter. They thought wrong. He should be home tomorrow for a week or so before heading back to supervise the installation of the new sink and counter tops. I miss it over there, but I’m not much for driving in the snow even if someone else is driving, so I’m fine waiting for a long April weekend.
Back to it being a good week, though. Writing is going so well and I am so grateful. It took six months for me to figure out how to carve time in my day to write regularly, but I have finally found my rhythm. My YA proposal is still making the rounds, my contemporary is on a temporary pause and I am working on a quick turnaround historical. Like I’ve mentioned before, it’s a time period I am not that familiar with so the research is intensive, but I am just loving it. I’ll be diving in this weekend.
I also just finished up week two of the Couch to 5k program. C2K is my go to running restart program. It gets me to where I want to be gradually without injury. I’m a slow runner and I will always be a slow runner. I occasionally do intervals or Tabata training to get my heart rate up for conditioning, but I prefer the meditative rhythm of keeping on keeping on. My favorite distance is four to six miles and I am SUPER excited to get there again. I’ve been trying to do at home workouts to increase my strength and stamina, but you know, puppy… I managed a yoga session last week and a cardio session this week. With Wyatt’s help, both were painful and hysterical.
It was a nice, easy food week as the hubby was gone. I made elk meatball stroganoff one evening and a big salad the next. Then leftovers and a trip to our local tamale place. Tonight, I’m going to make a sweet and sour sauce, add the meatballs not used in the stroganoff and serve over rice. Tomorrow, I’m making Birria tacos with chili broth and a banana cream pie for hubby’s return and later in the week, I’m making spicy glazed mustard wings and baked joe joes. There’s another recipe in the NYT food section on Korean soy-glazed pork belly that looks really good, but am going to go for Savory Thai noodles with seared brussels sprouts as I’m trying to make two or three vegetarian meals a week now. It’s good for us, the planet and all creatures great and small. And it’s delicious!
I could have added reading and resistance to the title, as I am reading Caste by Isabella Wilkerson and The Art of Possibilities by Rosamund Zander. Both are wonderful and Caste should be required reading. And I resumed my almost daily civic engagement. I can’t really call it resistance now because we’re working for something instead of just doing damage control. Equity across environments, climate change mitigation, the end human suffering, long term voting rights… so much work to do. The day job has been incredibly exciting as well… I have the best team and some of the projects I am working on are so awesome… but that’s for another blog.
So there, you have it in a nutshell… running, writing and recipes. Hope everyone has an amazing weekend!
A Total Weekend Reset
My plan for the weekend was set, but like all plans, it changed when Mother Nature intervened. I took today off in order to have a four-day weekend at the Powder House with my newly retired hubby. We had planned on doing a whole lot of nothing—there is still a pandemic raging after all—except some puttering, a little painting and Al may have hit the slopes. We changed our plans when we heard about the coming storm. Good thing too. Parts of interstate 84 are almost shut down because of crashes and there are white out conditions in some places.
I briefly considered just canceling my day off and working. After all, I am as stuck as I would be any other day and having no meetings scheduled would have been a good opportunity to catch up on some projects. However, in the end I decided not to. Now present Teri is thanking past Teri for her decision to just rest. Or rest the way I like to rest which means writing, cleaning and cooking. So in spite of the weather and having my plans canceled, I’m looking forward to the break.
It’s been a good week. I’m really loving my planner and its emphasis on how I want to feel. It’s forcing me to slow down and integrate in a way that I haven’t before. Like most people who live long term with someone who’s very emotional, I learned to regard feelings with a mistrustful eye… after all, if they’re going to change in five minutes, why bother? But in doing so, I missed out on integrating my own emotions/intuition/intellect and physical body, which I believe is necessary for personal growth and actualization. So the planner is helping me to do that. I was dead on when I decided to put my mental health and emotional well-being first this year. It’s like the rudder on which the direction of the vessel depends.
The past couple of weeks have been kind of a litmus test as I fumble about and discover what is truly necessary for my own wellness. Two things stood out in stark relief—my writing and exercise. I prioritized both, making adjustments to my schedule to make space for those two things and the results have been promising. I am both calmer and more energized, which on the surface doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I’m not questioning it. Devoting time to my craft and movement feels so very right. It’s been a long time, too long, since I have invested in either in any meaningful way.
I bought Scrivner and I am absolutely loving it so far. It’s very intuitive and it’s nice to have a place to keep all my scenes, chapters, character notes, and the oodles of research I’m doing. I’ve decided not to make word count or time goals and am instead making project goals. Start New Scene or Finish GMC’s for Primary Characters are goals that are specific enough to motivate without being stress inducing.
Last spring, I was running regularly after a long hiatus and got up to about two miles without stopping but then I started working on the Powder House, started a new job, etc., and things kind of fell apart. So I am back to C25k again and managed three runs before the snow came. I also did a nice yoga session which will have to do me for the weekend because it’s not going to warm up enough to hit the streets until Sunday afternoon. Yoga with a puppy has its own challenges, though, and it’s difficult to find the time when the puppy is asleep and the humans I live with aren’t in the living room. No ZEN there.
So I’m setting the intention that this weekend will be a nice long recoup… it may not be the weekend I originally envisioned, but it can still be a time for me to do the things I love to do, things that bring me peace and joy. I wish you the same on this cold, snowy Friday.
It’s Official!
It’s official!
After a six month trial period, I am now a permanent employee of the State of Oregon in a job I absolutely love. I am a Pre-Employment Transition Coordinator for Clatsop, Columbia and Washington Counties and as such, I teach transition age students (typically 16 to 21) things like interview skills, what accommodations they need to be successful at their chosen job, how to write resumes, etc. My manager is positive, forward thinking and committed to supporting her team. My co-workers are compassionate, creative and empathetic. Have I mentioned that I love my job?
In other news, my agent offered me an interesting publishing opportunity so I am working on a proposal that is set in a time period I have never written in before. It feels good to write again on a more regular basis. My critique buddy and best friend, Keri Blaisdell and I are holding one another accountable and I am making real progress–even if it’s a completely new time period. It’s funny, I started writing in the 20’s, then I went back to the Edwardian era now I am writing in the Georgian era. If I keep going back I’ll end up in the middle ages… which wouldn’t hurt my feelings!
On the home front, I have almost finished turning my office into a place I can be in for almost twenty-four hours a day. For an 8×12 room, it has a lot of functions! First,, I have grandchildren that sleepover so it has to have a bed because the other two bedrooms are occupied. My day job is exclusively in that room until things open back up and I’m allowed back into schools… and even then, half my time will be in the office as I’m on permanent remote work. Also, I write and need a space away from my family… and coffee shops are not an option. And yes, I said almost 24-hours a day because I am still sleeping with Wyatt until he is completely potty trained. Luckily, he is doing fairly well in that regard, so I am hoping to be back in my own bed within the next month or so. I got rid of the double bed that was in there and bought a day bed with a trundle to stack the grandchildren. I also bought a longish worktable to hold my printer and all the stuff that was on my desk. Because of my job, I have to have a docking station for my laptop, another large monitor, a keyboard and a mouse all on a desk my father made for me when I was fifteen… a desk that was built for pen and paper. I’m not getting rid of it, so adjustments had to be made. The first thing my husband said when he unpacked the daybed was, “Teri? How much do you love me? Because you need to love me a lot.” It took him three hours to put it together and the trundle bed is still in pieces under the day bed!
I told him he was the best husband ever but inside I was like, dude, you’re retired now. Just put the bed together! That’s another big change in my life. My husband retired after 30 years at the same company. Now he’s home all the time. At first, I was all worried, thinking he was going to leave and move permanently to the little retirement home in North Powder that we bought last year. Now, after almost a week of being at home with him, my eighty-four-year old mother and a three month old puppy, I’m wondering when he’s going. HA!
Oh, and I finally bought a new running bra! Mine was way too old and, after a couple years (i.e. 5) of not running regularly, a bit, snug, shall we say? I’m still avoiding stores, so I had to find one online that would fit and last. I asked my friends and my daughter what they wore and finally settle on a Natori Yogi sports bra. What a relief when it came AND IT ACTUALLY FIT. I bought new running shoes last fall, so after dithering for four months, I’m finally ready to run again. You don’t want to rush these things!
Scheduling is still an issue. I get up early enough to get my writing done, but Wyatt and the cats all want to eat. And then Wyatt wants to play. Then Wyatt needs to potty. Then Wyatt wants to lay in my lap and chew on a chewie until he falls asleep. Then we do it all over again. Then I have to get ready for work. By the time work is done, I have to make dinner and and then I’m wiped out. Sometimes it works in the morning and sometimes, if I short my lunch and breaks, I can knock off early and write before dinner. But seriously, that’s a lot of sitting! I’ll figure it out because I didn’t know how much I missed it until I started writing regularly again. Creativity just helps with the anxiety and after last year, I need all the help I can get! Have a great week, people!
This, That and Random Shat
So Wyatt Earp decided that 5 hours was enough sleep and woke me up at 2:00 AM ready to play. Of course, now he’s asleep while I’m wide awake so I figured I’d write a random blog about random stuff. I’m not going to write about the current politics or insurrection because it’s 5:30 in the morning and I am trying to hold the anxiety at bay for as long as possible, so random stuff it is.
I am plowing ahead, trying to encourage my core feelings of intentionality, alignment, freedom, affirmation and accomplishment. Easier said then done given the aforementioned political climate. But…I feel some small, stirrings of hope. A bit of lightness around the spirit that I haven’t felt in quite some time.
My job is a great source of satisfaction and affirmation. I know I am doing good work, that what I do makes a difference. My manager affirms me and I am able to be wildly creative. I’ll hit my six-month mark on the 3rd of February and will be considered a vested employee of the state of Oregon. BOOM! I’m running a lot of student workshops this week and I love interacting with them—even if it is virtually. And I am really happy to be able to support teachers during this time. God bless em… they need the support.
I am also writing on a more regular basis. It is more important than ever that I invest in my creativity before it completely dries up and blows away. I’d hate to finish the Powder House writing studio only to be unable to write! I have a proposal out on submission and am discussing my next moves with my agent. In the meantime, I am working on a novel different than anything I have ever written… it’s not a serious novel, but something completely trite and fun. It feels good. I have another idea percolating that is far more complex… I think I’ll wait for a bit for that one. I’m thinking fun and frothy is a good choice for this moment in time.
In Teri’s adventures in cooking, I spent the last week making soup or meals that can be made into soup because tis the season. Made a roast chicken the other night with veggies and a side citrus salad with fennel and olives. Plan on turning the chicken into black bean tostada and adding the chicken fat drenched roasted veggies to lentil soup for lunches. I’m getting fatter by the day, but am struggling to care.
Oh! I found a cool APP for those of us obsessed with keeping our house tidy. It’s called TODY and it breaks the house down by rooms and has a preprogrammed list of chores for each one that you can customize. You can also choose how long between dustings, or sweepings, etc. I LOVE it. I know, I’m weird. Cap sun, Virgo rising, so leave me to my lists! 😊
Okay, I need to switch laptops… I want to work early today so I can flex a nap in there sometime. That is, if Wyatt allows it.
On Being Intentional in 2021
I’m doing things different this year…instead of goals, resolutions, manifestations or intentions, I am focusing on my own mental health and emotional growth. Because quite frankly, last year didn’t do it for me. I ended the year, like so many others, an anxiety ridden, news addicted mess who compulsively cleaned, ate and drank, waiting, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don’t want to spend another year feeling like that.
So how do I want to feel? Once I choose how I want to feel, I can use those emotions as a framework for planning my life to include more activities and habits that support and encourage those feelings. But the brain and what goes on in it must come first because not only is it the origin of all my goals and intentions, but it’s the saboteur of them, as well.
After a long thought process, I came up with five emotions that fit me—individualized emotions that create within me a sense of well-being. They are:
- Aligned
- Affirmed
- Free
- Accomplished
- Intentional
I started with a long list, but finally whittled it down to these five. Then I added notes on what these emotions meant to me. Today, I’m exploring intentional, which isn’t really an emotion, is it? What do I mean when I say I want to feel intentional?
From Merriam Webster:
in·ten·tion·al | \ in-ˈtench-nəl , -ˈten(t)-shə-nᵊl \
Definition of intentional
1: done by intention or design : INTENDED
intentional damage
2a: of or relating to epistemological intention
b: having external reference
VOLUNTARY, INTENTIONAL, DELIBERATE, WILLING. Done or brought about of one’s own will. VOLUNTARY implies freedom and spontaneity of choice or action without external compulsion. INTENTIONAL stresses an awareness of an end to be achieved. DELIBERATE implies full consciousness of the nature of one’s act and its consequences. WILLING implies a readiness and eagerness to accede to or anticipate the wishes of another.
Those are very close to what I came up with during my private brainstorming session.
What does intentional feel like? For me, intentional feels thoughtful-understanding that there are no easy answers. Intentional feels like choosing, deliberating. It feels like the breath or pause before acting or reacting. It feels like awareness of what you are doing, while you are doing it.
Intentional feels like planning ahead or by design. Intentional feels calm. And lord knows I could use some calm.
So yes, I want to be more intentional. I want my choices and plans to be more intentional. I want to feel more intentional in every area of my life.
So how can I do that? I’ve always been a planner and I’m switching back to a paper planner after several years of using an electronic one. I’ll continue to use the outlook calendar for work, but for my personal use, I’m going with a paper planner that’s a combination gratitude journal, to do list, affirmation notebook and yes, daily scheduler. Carving out some time in the morning to plan out my day—work, as well as personal—has always helped me feel more grounded and mindful.
To create a sense of being intentional, I’ll be adding a mental why to my to do list. Whenever I put an item on the list, I’m going to ask myself why it’s there. Nothing big or complicated. It’ll be as simple as asking myself why I’m making banana cake today… because I have spotted nanners and I’m tired of banana bread. Why am I going to clean the garden window in the kitchen… because I can see grease on the glass shelf and I like things to be clean. Why am I going to re-write the third chapter in my manuscript… because it’s a damn mess. Knowing the why makes me feel as if I am being intentional. Why I’m doing that item is a good way to bring awareness to my daily activities.
Keeping a regular meditation schedule has always helped me be mindful. I’ve fallen away from it recently and only hit a few days a week… getting back into the habit of doing it more regularly will help me gain the space and time between a stimulus and an action. A few more moments in which I can act more intentionally and therefore feel more intentional and thoughtful about my behavior.
I have always been struck by the following quote: The unexamined life is not worth living.
I don’t know if the quote is entirely true or not, but it always made pausing to think seem like a worthwhile endeavor to me. And feeling intentional about my life brings me enormous satisfaction and joy. After last year, I need more of both those things.
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