{Unstick the Funk}

I have been in a royal funk. Funk as in everything around me is circling quickly, but I am in slow motion spinning the other way. Funk as in I would rather be alone (most days) than in relationship with others. Funk as in a big ole' negative Nelly you wouldn't want to know. I like funky, which is my usual creative flow, but this funk has gotten bigger. It's starting to pull me down.

Funk magnifiers in my life:

1. No hiking. No nature. No moving it. I am a salty and sugary slug.

2. No idea on what to do next in my life. Know I should be doing more, but even though the feeling is super strong, the plan looks hazy. Fog can be so darn frustrating.

3. Nil on creativity. I'm not writing or art journaling or daydreaming. I've been too busy cat-napping, power-napping, or eyelid-dropping.

4. Adventure-less. My bucket list is pretty powerful and full. Unfortunately, I'm not checking anything off. It's only words on a page right now. Empty to-do's. 

5. Less conversations with God. I'm a talker. People, animals, nature, and especially God. He has been the only Father in my life that really listens. Lately, I've been talking less and less. The real shame is I'm not really listening either.

These feelings swirling around have made me think, weirdly enough, of Mother Teresa. She was a faithful woman. She was kind. She cared more for others than she did herself. And she was wise, but so humble in her approach. She also, for many years, felt God had abandoned her, which she expressed poignantly in letters. I'm no Mother Teresa, and not even in the same league as her legacy, but it does make me feel less alone. Funk sticks to all kinds of people, I guess. It's the unsticking that is key.

Here's my plan of action to unstick the funk:

1. Quit trying to always have a plan. Jeez. I don't need to plan every detail of my life or those around me. The world will still spin if I stop organizing the universe. Perhaps if I'm more spontaneous, the funk won't know where to find me.

2. Keep trying new things. Creativity and a renewed joy may unfold in the most common places. I'm hoping it's in a kayak because I just signed up for basic lessons. One down on the bucket list, too. I would also like to check off "Give free hugs on a street corner." Any ideas on the best corner in Jefferson City? It's action time.

3. Stay in relationship with others. Even when I don't feel like I have anything more to give, I do. I really, really do. It's okay to let some things go, maybe even a relationship or two, in order to give the best of myself to others. If I get a wee bit back in return, that's just an added bonus not an expectation.

4. Prayer is not optional. I know there is a bigger plan for my life and, if I'm not taking time to be in meaningful conversation with the Man with the master plan, I am missing the boat (or the kayak), my friends. The world is too chaotic and overwhelming to not welcome that kind of love in my life.

As Mother Teresa said in her letter to Rev. Michael van der Peet, "...as for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great, that I look and do not see, — Listen and do not hear — the tongue moves [in prayer] but does not speak … I want you to pray for me — that I let Him have [a] free hand."

Starting now, I am letting Him have a free hand. I will embrace the next adventure. I will love better and more. I will not be afraid of funk and/or failure because I can do this. I know I can. And, in the spirit of including others in my story to make it more meaningful, I was wondering if you would be interested in joining me? There will be some funk (you can count on that!), but it may also turn out to be a really great time. I'm hopeful.

Dreadlocks and Dreams

I would like to write a novel. There. I finally said it out loud. I even wrote it in my blog, so all my 27 followers will know my biggest dream. I would like to be a published author.

Oh, but there's more. I secretly hope this labor-of-love novel will get published. Hundreds, if not thousands, will buy it. I would then be asked to go on a book tour to spend time in quaint bookstores across the country. Coffee charged and a little road weary, I would sign every book with my name and an encouraging word. God bless. Keep reading. Don't give up on your dreams. Thanks for all the love in Wichita!

Here's the crazy thing about big dreams, my friend. You actually have to take a step and begin. It can be small, even microscopic, but it does need to be in the general direction. Just thinking it, dreaming it, hoping for it, over and over in your mind doesn't get you any closer. Believe me, I know. It helps to immerse yourself in inspiration or become disciplined in your plan of action. I've not been good with either of those things, which is why I am here instead of there.

My last writing inspiration came last April (way too long ago in the inspiration realm) when I went to see Anne Lamott in Kansas City. She was amazing. She's been a writer for more than 20 years and published countless novels. But writing is still tough work for her, every word, every chapter. Her writing advice: "Always have a pen and write what you would like to come upon." Such sweet inspiration to be in her presence for an hour.

You can bet I took myself to the front of the stage that night to have her sign my book. She signed her name with a heart at the end. I cozied up next to her for a quick picture (posted above), a memento of the evening but also a lasting reminder of my dream. Write more. Write often. Write it to completion. Then be brave enough to send it out into the world. You never know. With some hard work, it might be me one day, long dreadlocks, talking about my writing and signing my name. I can see it. Now it's time to do it.

Sorting Out My Life

My mom has been cleaning out her basement, which means she's been sending box after box of childhood mementos my way. She has saved every piece of artwork, certificate, pen pal letter, medal, grade card, poem or graded paper that I took home. It's a lot of stuff. For someone not into clutter, such as myself, it's pure torture to dig through.

If there is any good that comes from sorting junk, I have found some common themes emerge from my childhood. First, I loved things with my name on it. I have pencils, bags and notebooks with my name everywhere. Heather. Heather Boehmer. Heather Dawn Boehmer. I must have liked the way my name looked in print. Ironically, I still kind of feel that way. My secret wish is to see my name on the cover of book, hopefully with "national bestseller" right above it.

Secondly, I was a prolific writer. I wrote letters to friends in the summer, random pen pals, journal entries, notes to family members, poem after poem after poem (all terrible, by the way), and many short stories. The writing wasn't terrific, but I was amazed by the kind, encouraging words of my teachers. "Keep at it, you've got great potential," one wrote on my paper. They believed in me before I knew to believe in myself.

I also realized how much my mom relished every part of my journey. She kept every word, every picture, every award. She was so proud of me. While I've written often of the struggle growing up with single, teenage mother, I'm not sure I've accurately conveyed what an amazing woman my mother is. She is humble, funny and kind. She has never, not even for one small second, given up on me, though my actions would have tested the most patient soul. I guess I'm thankful she's let me sort out my life at my own pace.

At the bottom of the last box I went through tonight, I found a poem I had written in the ninth grade with a green honorable mention ribbon stapled to it. I don't remember the poem or the ribbon, but it reminded me of the dreamer I used to be. Still am, I guess, in many ways. Here's hoping we can all grow into something special and keep working on the big dream. If it's super unrealistic, well, then I think you're definitely headed in the right direction.

Lament for the Non-Dreamers

by Heather Boehmer, 9th grade

They never seem to look beyond today

or wish for anything unrealistic.

A second of their time is not wasted

on such foolish measures

as daydreaming a tomorrow.

Their lives are synchronized into patterns,

which are colored black and white.

Their eyes are closed to all the magic and beauty

that is soundly sleeping behind the closed doors of their imagination.