levels of discomfort

How much discomfort are you willing to put up with? How hard are you willing to push? I do not do yard work when it is raining but I have signed up for a race that involved mud, hills and barbed wire. I gave birth to my two sons without medication (by choice) but I can't seem to make an appointment to get my tooth fixed. There is a relationship between discomfort and payoff. Does more discomfort at the start make it easier in the long run? Steve Pressman asks, "Are you willing to bleed for it?" when it comes to a new idea or goal.
My goal for tomorrow is to purchase a bag of cement and talk to the preferred local wood cutter. Last time I talked to him I asked him to donate a christmas tree to the Girl Scouts. He agreed without hesitation, but found it unnecessary to turn off his chain saw or remove the cigarette from between his teeth. What I need today is a 12 foot log, 10 - 12 inch in diameter, cut into segments of 6, 12, 18, 24, 30 and 36 inches. The dreaded words, "are you an artist or something?", may come out of his mouth. It is not the question but the tone that comes with it. Why does this hit so high on my levels of discomfort?  I will feel forced to explain something that is personal, to expose a piece of me to someone that doesn't understand. I am not always good at asking others for help. I know that about myself, but this question induces the fear of sounding stupid by having to explain something that I can't explain. The idea is in my head, on paper but during the process I don't want to have to explain it, What if it turns out different?
I hope by the end of the weekend my first sculpture will be out there for everyone to see. Then I hope, all the discomfort was worth it.

I have a car with a bag of cement and 6 logs in the back...yeah. I selected my log, the cutter got his chainsaw and handed my a tape measure. It was funny and a collaborative effort. Then he asked "is this for some sort of religious fanatic thing?"

Wall vs. Fence

After the boundaries have been established the next step is choosing. Do I extend a bridge to welcome others or erect a wall to keep others out.
Wall- a continuous vertical structure intended to enclose or divide.
Luckily for me I did not have to choose. I get to do both. Upon further inspection of the intended location of the shed I noticed that Joe did not remove the rocks but merely spread them out like a child that doesn't want to eat his peas and mash potatoes. The rock is now mixed with leaves and tree debris making impossible to plant anything to create a natural boundary. I built a mental wall out of passive agressive behavior and a few swear words. I also plan on giving him dirty looks when I see him...its a temporary structure but for now it's working.
A bridge is a pathway to ideas and moves us forward. So that is where I will begin...
An invitation to explore, play, and discover something new, Something that is intended to reconcile or form a connection between two things, Something that makes a physical connection between two things.
Quinn is a great helper and we got started on our bridge until the rain came.

Inspiration in the form of a line

   So where does one find inspiration? This past week it came from my neighbor Joe and his plan to put a new 20x30 shed on my property in order to store his Kubota TLB series tractor/loader/backhoe.
    After the large snow banks melted away, I noticed my neighbor had parked an extra large storage container next to his driveway. It crossed my mind that it was most likely on my land but no trees had been disturbed, so I let it go. It was when the two ton pile of crushed rock got dumped out on the driveway that I got nervous.
   I quickly put into motion all the ineffective ways of dealing with this issue. I talked to friends, I looked at a very old and vague plot map, I called a land surveyor who did the house two doors down, inspected some google earth maps, and even contemplated having my ex-husband come over, so basically I did nothing to solve or confront this issue. I even sat and watched him as he began to spread out the crushed rock. My keys in one hand, cup of coffee in the other, with a dumb ass look on my face, I pondered, "I wonder what he is doing? I think that is my land?" What better response then for me to get in the car and go to the gym. (this is what Steve Pressfield referees to as "resistance", next post)
   So what kick starts someone into action? Well for me it was when I came home and saw his Jeep parked on his new rock slab and my pine tree knocked down and left to die on my grass. It's 12 feet of willowy beauty wilting in the sun. She was still partially attached at the base. Now I would have to get out the saw and make the final cuts. I formulated the perfect opening line in my head, "just wanted to let you know I was going to be over to cut the bottom off the tree you knocked down", before I knocked on his door.  Have I mentioned that Joe is a very large man and he is a cop in one of the least desirable places to live outside of Boston? I find him a bit intimidating, for some reason.
"Hey, I was just going to come and talk to you," he said as he opened the door. Really?
   We are "ALL GOOD" according to Joe. So I walked away and came back armed and ready with my tape measure, a piece chalk, and my seven year old son for back up.
  125 feet is what belongs to Joe, not 145 feet. I was right, he was wrong. It took a long, twisty path but I faced some unidentified and unreasonable fears and came out feeling empowered and inspired.
   I was now motivated to set up the boundaries and lines for the sculpture garden. The modified plan was to work with what was already in the yard. I am still going to do this but in a more deliberate way. Intention is an important part of creativity. I spent two days relocating plants, trimming trees, taking down the wood stands in the woods and moving rail road ties. It timed out perfectly with the rain.
Thanks for the inspiration Joe and I like the shed, properly located at the end of your driveway.

Self sacrifice

Or the lesson I learned this weekend. I have been coaching my three kids soccer teams for the last six years, that is 12 seasons, and 18 teams. It is one of my greatest joys. Watching a child that starts the season standing, lost, on the field to ending the season by scoring the final goal. One child, at the start wouldn't move or put the his ball on the grass, then he progressed and ran only where I ran, it became a game, then one afternoon he moved away from my side and followed the ball. The final game, the last day, in the last minute, he got a break away. Instead of stopping he ran, kicking the ball. He ran the length of the field and scored. He was so proud, the whole team cheered and his mother cried. She hugged me and said "thank you, thank you, thank you". I will never forget it, but I do not coach for the thank yous. I coach for the kids.

I am not coaching this season because of my kid, and it was a hard choice to make, and when a mother said to me,"my daughter needs you" I cried. He wanted his Dad to come to his games and that would only happen if I wasn't at the game, so I decided not to coach. But the harder lesson I learned was that my son needed someone else, not me, to be his coach. He wanted me to coach. He begged me to coach, but what happens is he becomes a goofball when I try to coach him. He has a new coach and my son is attentive, focused, and assertive during the game and practice. I skipped coaching for the love of my son and what he is getting in return is a new love for the game.