Bobby Pins in the Desert

I leaned over the sink and ate cake with my fingers. I listened as Jeff Buckley broke my heart again with that final kiss in “Last Goodbye.” I was alone in the house for the first time since May.

Ideas were tripping over each other, clamoring for my attention, but mostly I was thinking about writing, specifically about my writing practice. About when and how to get my butt in the seat and keep it there long enough to put down coherent ideas. I was thinking about inspiration. Not the inspiration for stories, but motivational inspiration, like Sugar’s exhortation to write like a motherfucker.

This summer Partner read a leadership development book called The Power of Full Engagement by Jim Loehr and Tony Schwartz. I have no idea whether the book is worthwhile or not (I didn’t read it), but one bit has stuck with both of us, not just because it is something that we have always done well, but also because it is something we must continue to do.

Ritualize what’s important.

Want to remember to floss more often? Do it at the same time every day. Make it part of a dental hygiene routine. Want to get more exercise? Make a ritual out of it by incorporating exercise time into the patterns of your day. Want to write a book that others will enjoy reading? You get the idea. First, figure out what’s important to you, and then incorporate actions into the day in such a way that you don’t have to waste time choosing to do them. You just do them. Ritually.

My favorite rituals in our house surround bedtime. There are bedtime jobs, a fixed list of things that the kids do automatically (if noisily), like dental care and pet care and putting together their launch pad for the next morning. Once the jobs are done, we settle together on the couch and I read to them. Lately they’ve started knitting while they listen to me. The routine has evolved as their needs and abilities have changed, but the central actions are familiar, and at least for me, comforting in their regularity.

Around the time Partner was reading the leadership book and we were discussing how we could adapt and expand our rituals to emphasize what’s important for us, we wandered into an odd place called Tinkertown. Many things affected me there, as I mentioned in my post about the place back in June. One thing stuck in my brain and has floated the surface almost every day since then. I’d like to say it was one of the quirky displays in the ad hoc museum, but it was actually a cheap, mass-produced trinket in the gift shop. These tiny wooden boxes, called Dream Boxes. Their explanation suggested that if you had a goal or a dream to accomplish, you could write that goal on a scrap of paper and put it in the box. Then each night before sleep, you could read the note. The practice, the instructions claimed, would help the dream become a reality. A reminding ritual.

What would you write on the scrap of paper in your Dream Box, sweet peas? I’m writing mine now.