Branding Myself

This is the Year of the Rat.

A friend of mine pointed out that the Year of the Rat comes once every twelve years. And if you’re going to make big changes in your life – especially new beginnings – this is the year to do it.

Coincidentally, in a couple of months, I will be launching into self-employment. The plan is to work from home – control my own workload (which is nearly impossible in the non-profit sector) – and consciously create more space for writing.

In my working world, I have created a reputation for myself as a bit of a drifter. At Christmas parties, I am often greeted with “How are you? What job are you in now?” In an effort to show that I am serious about my new venture, I met with a graphic designer who will be creating my logo. And, my brand. Not that I fully understand the difference, but apparently there is one.

We sat for nearly 90 minutes. He asked many questions. I attempted to answer them.

- What will make your business different?
- How do you want people to feel after working with you?
- What are your values in your work?

He goes away and creates a logo with different shapes, colors and fonts based on what he heard.

I am fascinated by this process.

How do I portray myself?
And does this match how I see myself?
Or does this all just depend on if the graphic designer and I have the same definition of the words “grassroots” , “health promotion" and "social justice"?

Will the logo have earthy tones? Vibrant colors? Shapes of trees and leaves or maybe a globe? I know he won’t come back with a hummer or a dollar sign …but what?

And what if we, as individual persons, had to meet with a graphic designer to create a brand for us as people? It would be interesting, wouldn’t it?

Because it is a small business – to be built mostly on reputation – I told him I wanted the logo to represent more of who I am … not what I do. I really have no plans to grow. The goal is to make enough money to survive so that I have time to create.

In the end, I gave him my blog address. I picked these pictures, these colors, these quotes. This blog is a good representation of how I see myself.

Or, at least, how I want to be seen.

Or, maybe ... a fine balance of both.

Untitled

let the water take me
running on
running free

dip my hands into
its flow
time as its current

meaning left behind
like the bedrock
under sand

cooling off
moving on
letting go

create
anew

**

a little poem inspired by Human Being's series of pictures
her blessings spread in many ways ...

New Rules

When I was younger, I believed in saving the best for last.

Like pies.
I’d eat the filling first and leave the crust.

Partially, this decision was influenced by a lesson taught to me early in my household ... never, ever were we to waste food.

But, I also had superstitions around it. Even if I was too full to truly enjoy it, I wanted the last taste lingering in my mouth to be the buttery, crumbling pastry. Or the sweet pieces of mango I saved from the fruit salad. Or the outside layers of my ice cream sandwich.

As if the joy it bestowed would last a little longer that way.

The other day, I ordered a butter pecan square.

I specifically requested the corner piece. Its edges were burnt a little and I knew it would be crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside. Perfect.

But this time, I decided to eat all of my favorite parts and throw away the rest.

Life’s too short to be inconvenienced by what you never wanted in the first place.

April Storms

My knuckles are tired.

For four hours, I gripped my steering wheel as an unexpected snowstorm battered the highway on a recent road trip.

Usually, my prairie landscapes are beautiful. The horizon stretches until all you see is a hazy line of blue and green curving in the distance, and I’m sure I see – not just know – that the world is round.

But when the snow descends and the wind arrives, the pair are relentless. Suddenly, in the middle of the day, headlights are a necessity. Even when the snow stops, the gales recycles the drifts, blowing them across the road like wisps of memories. Whirling them up to confront you in fury.

In the ocean of white, I could only see the road ahead of me for a couple of meters. And, sometimes even that disappeared. So, I relied on the grey volkswagon in front of me which appeared and reappeared in the hazy clouds ahead.

It’s frightening to drive with no sense of direction … I had to physically restrain myself from stopping. But, even if the snow didn’t erase all remembrance of shoulders on the road, I knew someone was following me, the way I followed the volkswagon. I dared not stop.

I kept the foot to the pedal on faith. Hoping that the car ahead of me knew where it was going and that we were all being led to the same place. Trying to ignore the abandoned vehicles in the ditches on the side of the road, knowing they had likely relied on faith too.

Sometimes, for half a minute, the winds would stop and all was calm. I could see ahead for kilometers. And, then the eerie realization dawned on me. It wasn’t just me, the volkswagon ahead, and the car behind trying to make our way --- but a whole caravan of travellers, filling the roads as unseen companions.

Then the winds came back and all was white again.

Spring blizzards.

By the end, I feel it’s my landscape that has been scourged by the storm.

In those tense moments, I apologized for all the injuries I incurred. I forgave all the hurts that came my way. And all I have left is love and gratitude for … this.

Storms are good for that.
But, I’m still exhausted.

True

when wishes are spoiled
and hopes disfigured, I ask

is there a lesson yet unlearned?
did I miss Karma's cue?

but in the darkness
I am reminded

I mapped my own course
true to the North of my compass

and a star reappears

for no matter how rough my path
it still belongs to me

and I am proud
to own it

trying

I am only a writer

I score my reality

with my pen



reflect life’s images

back to you

like that of a

lake still



shimmering before you

clear

clean

complete



but water – like truth –

is inconstant

___ constant moving

__________moving in

__________moving through

my emotions



I am only human

my words are human too

Yes, I read my horoscope more than a creative writer should ... but you can't tell me there isn't value in pondering this one:

If you don't articulate your conscious desires,
your unconscious patterns will come true.

... now if I could only figure out which one to tackle first - conscious or unconscious ?? I feel like it's a treasure waiting to be discovered ...

spring has sprung

My little prairie city is managed by strange weather gods.

A week ago it snowed.
Today, it was plus twenty degrees Celsius.

With the sun out and about, I wrote and read outside -- usually a rare event in April for my province. I'm not usually home long enough to see them, but I finally got to meet the two small hares that I know frequent my yard.

It's a small miracle, considering I live smack dab in the middle of the city.












As the evening progressed and the sunlight deepened into twilight, I grabbed my camera and visited one of my favorite haunts today.

People sometimes tire of our flatlands, but we have a secret gift that only comes out when the sun rises and sets ... the canvas of our sky.

When I need to

I look to the skies

and I am reassured

all is

as it should be

Blessings upon your week, friends.