Article by Make The Days Count Contributor Marie Monroe

 

I wrote some short pieces not too long ago about the ‘mundane’ things in my everyday life.  This was a meditation upon the ordinary and day to day ‘bones’ of my life.  They were, for me, an exercise in “the morning pages” that Julia Cameron in her book The Artist’s Way recommends.  These are a way of clearing the creative channel - just writing, without censoring what comes and doing this first thing in the morning as a daily routine.

 

Whether a writer or not, this is an exercise that is powerful and enlightening.  Thoughts and insights come to help you discover what you already know and what you didn’t know that you do know …

 

The morning pages are a great technique for getting in touch with yourself, your life, your dreams and aspirations.  They are also an excellent way to circumvent that often critical voice in your mind that drowns out the inspirations and intuitions of an often more difficult to hear, more authentic voice.

 

We seem to spend a lot of time trying to hack our ways through the obstacles to creativity - writers have writer’s block and artists have artist’s block.  These are clear examples of how the creative flow can dam up and leave the highly creative person high and dry.  For people not really fully immersed in such overt creative pursuits such as writing or art, the same thing happens.  Decisions become more difficult.  Ruts settle in.

 

The morning pages are a powerful reminder that we are oftentimes our own worst enemies.  We can chatter away in our minds about why not to do something, how inadequate we are, how untalented, how we should not take the creative risk in whatever endeavor we secretly yearn to take on. 

 

These creative endeavors do not have to be the pursuit of artistic expression.  Relationships are creative endeavors.  Learning new job skills are also that.  Dressing differently, cooking differently, moving to a new home … all of these ‘mundane’ things employ the same creative juices that a painting or a story do.   We have to ‘hear’ the inspiration deep inside and give it credence.  We have to take the steps, make a series of decisions and envision our goals, or sometimes, discover our goals along the way. We have to cut through the chattering mind that nay says in order to create anything.

 

Sitting down with pen in hand first thing in the morning and writing at least 3 pages of whatever comes to mind is the practice of “the morning pages.”  It is also the practice of ignoring the internal naysayer and cutting on through to listen to the true voice of who we are and what we want.

 

I titled this piece Heroes and set out to discover, in true morning pages spirit, what some small voice inside me wanted to say.  I listened.  It said Heroes and so there we began.

 

Yesterday I found myself asking a woman, Who were your heroes when you were a little girl?  I wasn’t sure why.  She seemed to be in so much pain and something heroic seemed appropriate, seemed like the thing to remind her about, the thing that might help somehow.

 

She had many.  Most were male:  astronauts, cowboys, firemen…oh, sure, she said, there were women astronauts and there were cowgirls and firewomen, but in her mind, the heroes of her mind were male.

 

So, still lost, still desperately in pain, I asked her Who was your female hero?

She cocked her head as if listening to something whispery and far away then strong and twinkling she looked squarely at me and said Wonder Woman!

 

The simple recollection of her female hero changed her.  She smiled, she sat up straighter, and she looked me in the eye.  The pain was evaporating.

 

She had found Wonder Woman again, some 20 years later and much, much emotional pain later as well.

 

I loved her because she was strong!

I loved her because she could overcome anything!

I wanted to be her!

 

Heroes.

 

Heroes speak to us in whispery ways.  Some heroes take up residence inside us.  Some heroes come thundering in with the cavalry, some tip toe in to tuck us in at night …

 

Some fly in spaceships and some climb ladders.

Some have magic bracelets and some live down the street.

Heroes come in all sizes, shapes, ages, costumes and genders.

Heroes give us strength when we have none.

Heroes give us hope when we have none.

Heroes come to save us now or 20 years later.

 

Yesterday my heroes arrived in a fleet of trucks.  They wore hard hats and winter gear.  They went skyward in lifts to fix my downed power lines.  In temperatures that felt like arctic winds they hooked me up.

 

I threw open a window and shouted at them.  I love you! You are my heroes!

 

The man in the ‘cherry picker’ grinned.  His ‘spotters’ down below began to clap, but they only took a moment’s notice of the crazy woman who was hanging out of her 3^rd floor window yelling at them.

 

When they began to clap it was for the man high up in the sky among the icicles and potentially dangerous lines, the teetering and uprooted trees … their coworker.

Even heroes have heroes.

 

I got a voicemail this morning.  The sad, sad lady said I have been having so much fun remembering my hero.  I have decided to be my own hero! I have decided to add you to my list of heroes!

 

So, this morning the morning pages start before I even brew the coffee.  My reading glasses can’t clear the blur of my sleepy head.  Up comes the screen, no pen this morning, I can’t find it…and I type in the word I’ve come from dreamland with: Heroes.

 

My mother’s hero was Randolph Scott and Perry Mason.

My father’s hero was Duke Ellington.

My heroes were Annie Oakley and spies on the ‘right’ side of the Cold War.

 

Well … there were cowboys and astronauts and presidents and more recently, Johnny Depp.  There were FBI agents and William Faulkner and James Joyce.  There were Van Gogh, Bob Dylan, Georgia O’Keefe and Mr. Steilberg and Mrs. Huddle.  There were my mother and father and grandmother.  There were Wayne Gretzky and Thomas Merton and Michael the archangel.

Hmm … heroes.  Where they take us and how we are when we get there! 

 

Heroes.

 

They come to save us in many ways.  They come to save our souls in an answered S.O.S. They come to save our minds in unusual and expected ways.  They come to hold us up till we can stand.  They come to teach us that calculus is not our breaking point…and they come to send us off to college when we are afraid to go…

 

They call us up and say lovely things.

 

When I called my client back I said I am pleased to be your hero. I need that today because this morning my power is on and I’ve heated up the house to 78 degrees so I can afford to be cool!

Yes, she said, heroes are cool, but they can also stand the heat.  That’s why we love them…

I left the house at 78 because she was right.  I’ll turn it down in a little while.  Right now I can stand the heat.  Later, when I’ve landed again, I’ll take a shower and go to the store. I’ll do some dishes and play with the cat because after glory, there are mundane things, the glory of mundane things…

 

I imagine my linesman to be back on earth, too.  I think he is toasty warm, eating a sandwich and watching TV…I think he is soon to doze off because he needs his rest and I think I’d never know him if I ever saw him, but boy, do I love him and how!

 

To heroes everywhere!  Fictional and not!  Yay!  You are so cool.  You can stand the heat!

 

“True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic.  It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others, at whatever cost.”
-Arthur Ashe

 

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