Just a thought by Ev Bishop

Little by Little

/ Ev Bishop / 12 Comments

Petit á petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. 

When I came across this lovely saying in French recently, it wrapped around me like the comforting, encouraging, celebratory hug of a dear friend. Little by little, the bird makes his nest.

Ever full of dreams, plans, and schemes (and prone to being very hard on myself, something I’m working diligently to change!), rather than reflect on things I’ve accomplished, I’m someone who finds it easier to focus on everything I haven’t done yet but want to, the project that I haven’t tackled, the idea birthed but not yet brought to fruition. (And I’m one hundred percent sure I’m not alone in this. In fact, I’d go so far, dear reader, as to suggest it’s something you do too!) 

Almost simultaneously with discovering that quote, I embarked on a new exciting quest: applying for a couple of Writers in Residence programs. A large part of the application process was creating a CV and a list of publishing credits. As I went through the task of recording each of my published novels, short stories, and poems, documenting awards and honours I’ve received, and summarizing workshops, presentations, panels, and readings I’ve created, led, or taken part in, I was a little . . . well, awed, actually. I have written a lot of things across genres and in many forms, and it was really exciting to see them all laid out in black and white. (It doesn’t diminish my goals and plans for future writing projects in any way, but it was very encouraging: I probably will get around to those dreams and schemes because look at all the things I’ve completed and explored before!)

Petit á petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. 

It doesn’t just apply to creative goals or writing aspirations. I’m sometimes impatient about my yard and garden, but those types of activities can’t be rushed. Trees take time to mature and bear fruit, flowers only blossom in their season, and even when plants appear to be dormant, that is only appearance. Beneath the surface, life is just waiting for the right time to burst forth. And when I look back at rose bushes that were once newly planted sticks with just a leaf or two, proving they were alive, or at various masses of perennials that were each, once, just one solitary planting, I’m struck again: little by little. My latest lesson here is two new grape varieties, about which the man who sold them to me advised, “Don’t do anything to them for at least two years, and even better, three. Let them get really rooted and established before pruning.” 

Relationships too. We can’t Abracadabra lifelong friendships into being. You build friendships, shared experience by shared experience, laugh by laugh, shared tear by tear. 

I’ve tried—and failed—to see if there’s a part of life that the lovely saying doesn’t apply to. And if one of our nests literally or figuratively gets destroyed? Again, the bird (if it’s a robin, anyway!) is a good inspiration. Little by little, the resilient creatures build a new one—often with the same materials and methods if they weren’t the problem. 

So that’s me these days, busily, happily enjoying my various nests, some of which I’ve mentioned, some of which I haven’t, all the while knowing that I’m still building and rebuilding. And may I ever be. And may you ever be, too.  

Petit á petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. 

Gargoyle Cottage. Retreat, retreat!

/ Ev Bishop / 3 Comments
Gargoyle Cottage at Allbion Manor, Victoria, BCThe name of the place grabbed me immediately: Gargoyle Cottage—how simultaneously creepy and delightful, a perfect companion for its bigger sibling, the gorgeous and funky Albion Manor. It seemed the perfect answer to my where-to-stay-in-Victoria search, commenced when I received an invitation to be a guest speaker at Vancouver Island Romance Authors’ June meeting.

And upon seeing Gargoyle Cottage in person? Even more perfect: a fairy tale house, nestled behind a massive weeping willow tree amidst an enchanted jungle of blooms. Thriving purple clematis and bright blue California lilacs guard the back of the tiny domicile, while its crotchety namesake perches above the glass paned door. Managing to look protective, welcoming and snarky all at once, the gargoyle’s sneer says, “Don’t just stand there gaping. Go in or stay out, but make yourself useful either way. Deadhead the petunias or something.”

I confess I did obediently deadhead a few flowers before proceeding inside, where I was as charmed by the cottage’s interior, as I had been by its exterior. The antique furniture gracing each room grabbed my imagination. What whispered conversations had that sideboard been privy to over a century? How many dreams had the massive, crazily ornate bed inspired? Who had kept what in that tiny, intricately painted, yellowed with age Chinese lidded vase?

Settling in, I pondered what I wanted to accomplish during my days beneath the gargoyle’s watchful eye. Some professional development, absolutely. A couple of close author friends and one of my editors live in the Victoria area. Some purely fun stuff—of course. Chiefly, however, some deep thinking. Perhaps it seems weird that I need to slot in time to think, but there you have it. Obviously (or hopefully), I do a certain amount of thinking every day, but to actually spend concentrated time at it? Yep, I have to schedule it, or it doesn’t happen.

Life is so busy that it can be difficult to find time to consciously evaluate and plan what I want to do. It’s all too easy to feel wiped out and inundated with work and chores, almost like I don’t have a spare minute, while also feeling like I don’t get anything done or don’t have time for the things that really matter.

This fact—that life is busy—is exactly why taking regular breaks to play, think, dream, imagine and plan is vital. It allows me to prioritize and regroup. It helps me really live my life, not just go through the motions. It shows me areas where changes might be needed and affirms things I’m doing right.

Not all my retreats take place in quirky, quaint little B & B’s, however. (I wish!) It’s much more common for me to set aside a day in my normal life. If a mini retreat sounds intriguing to you, here are a few tips to get you started.

1) Leave your house. Even if you’re not planning an overnight stay, getting out of your home, away from your everyday life, is critical. If you stay home, it will be too easy to see all the things that need doing. You’ll decide to tackle just one task—and bam, all will be lost.

2) Bring a notebook or a laptop. (Avoid all social media sites like the plague!) Ruminate on what you’d like to focus on. Do you have a decision you need to make? Are you trying to narrow down your work focus, seeking to prioritize the bazillion ideas rattling around in your head, or just wanting to contemplate life?

3) Consider arranging a lunch date with a close friend or colleague. (And enjoy every minute of it, but don’t let the social time of your retreat eclipse your alone time.)

4) Go back to your alone space and spend time reading magazines or articles that deeply interest you or are relevant to your life in some way.

5) Head outside and take a long walk (or just sit) in a place you don’t usually frequent. Don’t move briskly though. Meander. Absorb your surroundings. Let your mind wander.

6) Return to your space and mull over your notes. Possibly do some brainstorming, jot a pros and cons list, or draft a schedule if you’re aiming to meet a large, many parted goal. If you realize that what you wanted to think about has changed, explore that instead.

7) Repeat semi-frequently!

If you take time to retreat and think—or you’re planning to now—I’d love to hear about it! Please respond in the comments. 🙂

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“Gargoyle Cottage. Retreat, retreat!” by me, Ev Bishop, was originally published in the Terrace Standard, June 28, 2017 as my monthly column “Just a Thought.” 

New Year’s Thoughts

/ Ev Bishop / 1 Comment

"Coffee Break" by Berit Watkin

“Coffee Break” by Berit Watkin

Wow, February 6th already. Where does time go? I hope you’ll accept my (belated!) well wishes for 2017, pour a coffee, and take a minute to enjoy my thoughts on the new year, which were originally published in the Terrace Standard, January 25, 2017 as my monthly column “Just a Thought.” Thanks for reading!

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Hello and happy new year! It is mind blowing to me that it’s 2017 already—that, in fact, we’re already through the first month. Mind blowing. 
 
On the 16th of January, someone close to me shared that it was Blue Monday. The term was unfamiliar to me at first. Apparently it’s a name given to a day in January (often, but not always, the third Monday of the month) that’s widely considered the most depressing day of the year because of a combination of “weather conditions, debt level (the difference between debt accumulated and our ability to pay), time since Christmas, time since failing our new year’s resolutions, low motivational levels and feeling of a need to take action.” (Thanks, Wikopedia. What would I do without you?)
 
But Blahuary isn’t getting me down this year. A sunny holiday to look forward to helped very much (and made me feel spoiled!), but an even bigger boost (reminder) came from an unexpected place—a back issue (May/Jun/Jul 2016, to be exact) of my favorite magazine, Where Women Create.   
 
In her wonderful editorial column, From My Kitchen Table, Editor-in-Chief Jo Packham reflects on the passage of time, contemplates her life, and describes herself thus:
 
“I am 65 this year, and I am having an identity crisis—please do not try to talk me out of it or off the ledge that I seem to be looking over. It is my reality and I am not the only one facing it, who has faced it, or will someday face it. Being 65 is humbling, terrifying, something worth celebrating, nostalgic, lonely . . . a list of adjectives that goes on ad infinitum. But think about it: you can use those same adjectives regardless of what age you turn this year.”
 
Those adjectives really do apply to every age, and although I’m twenty years younger than Jo, the whole article resonated with me deeply. Her insight and descriptions of the ages and stages of life—“mid-20s, 30-somethings, 40-and-counting, 50-and-wishing, 60-and-panicked, 70-and-reflective, 80-and-byond”—struck me as so . . . accurate.
 
What I took with me from the read (now these are my thoughts, not hers exactly) is that we are all dying. We should feel a sense of urgency to live better, to love truer, to forgive more generously . . . to say what we need and express how we honestly feel, to live how we want to live, to conquer our fears (or push on in the face of them!), to embrace new challenges and pursue our dreams.
 
And conversely:
 
We are all living. We should feel a sense of urgency to live better, to love truer, to forgive more generously . . . to say what we need and express how we honestly feel, to live how we want to live, to conquer our fears (or push on in the face of them!), to embrace new challenges and pursue our dreams.
 
(See what I did there? No matter what our perspective on mortality is, how far it seems or close it looms, we should be living fully now.)
 
To heck with “blue” Monday. Each day is new. Each day. We will all (I’m so sorry to say) go through bitterly hard times, but hopefully we’ll find the strength to persevere when perseverance is needed and the bravery to start anew when quitting or ending something is needed or inevitable.
 
We will have regrets, even in the future, regardless of how much we decide here and now to live without them. The trick is to not let them hold us back or keep us down. Make amends and apologize when needed (and it will be needed), but remember: Each day is new. We are dying. We are alive!
 
I wish you so much joy and energy this year—and fun, too. May you embrace life at whatever stage you find yourself and regardless of our ages, may it be true for all us: the best years are still to come.
 
Find activities that bring you pleasure or contentment and do them. Cherish the people you love and who bring you happiness and spend your time with them.
 
Warmest regards always,
Ev