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On Dreamshaping: Groove Is In the Mind
Mark McNease
On Dreamshaping is a weekly blog about shaping the dreams we live.
Remember that song by Deee-Lite, Groove Is In the Heart? It popped into my head when I was thinking about this blog post. The difference is that the song is very upbeat and infectious, but what I’m writing about is the opposite – or it’s infectious in a bad way.
I’m talking about the grooves we create, deepen, and tread in our minds. The mental repetitions that make up much of our daily thinking. So much that it’s hard to really call it thinking. When I’m walking around half-conscious, repeating the same threads of conversation to myself, the same angers, frustrations, and stuckness, can it be said that I’m thinking at all? This is a trap, a series of grooves, that my mind sinks into with alarming frequency.
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On Dreamshaping: The Empty Handed Life
Mark McNease
On Dreamshaping is a weekly blog about shaping the dreams we live.
Hands aren’t only for holding and grasping—they’re also for teaching us what it’s like to surrender, palms up, empty handed. The nothing we find there is often the something we need.
It’s hard to let go of our many identities. Getting up and writing has been ‘who I am’ for forty years or so. The fear we all have is that when something leaves our lives, whether it’s a job, or a creative activity, or a person, we won’t know who we are without it. This is acutely present with caregivers: taking care of someone becomes our identity, and when that person is gone, the loss is compounded by losing the sense of self it gave us: what am I going to do now? How will I spend my days or nights? What will define me?
I experience this with writing and the compulsion to create. When I don’t do either on any given morning, I feel as if something has been missed, or slipped away from me. And yet, I’ve written ten novels, countless short stories, articles, scripts, you name it. For the past eight years it’s been all about the murder mysteries and fiction. To not get up and write these things leaves me feeling as if my life is somehow ending, that I have no use other than as a man who writes fiction. That cannot be the case! I may not write another book. I may not write another mystery or thriller. But I will always create, which is what I’m doing now. And I will always write. Putting words on (figurative) paper is what I do, and there’s nothing wrong with allowing that to always be a focal point of my life. But I won’t allow it, as of now, as of this Dreamshaping, to determine my sense of value in this world.
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One Thing or Another: Are We There Yet?
By Mark McNease
It’s always One Thing or Another… a lighthearted look at aging, life, and the absurdities of it all.
This column was always intended to be lighthearted, even in its most serious moments. Sure, I look at aging, life, and the absurdities of it all. I even ponder death now and then, since it’s pretty much the end point for all of us. Where we go after that, if we go anywhere, is not something I spend much time thinking or worrying about. I have appropriate clothes for any destination, or none at all, in case it’s especially hot.
But 2020 was so difficult, so groundbreaking, like a sledgehammer outside my bedroom window, that it stands unique among the years of my life. And now, two weeks into a new year, it’s still here! The same election we would normally have moved beyond by now, accepting it as part of the political bargain we make for living in a country where people are allowed to vote, keeps hold of us as if to prevent our escape. The frustrations of lockdowns and limited interactions and one-way grocery store aisles and the politicization of absolutely everything has us frayed within an inch of insanity. And that’s just Tuesday!