I promise, this isn’t the typical New Year’s column, but I do have a suggestion.
Somewhere inside you hides the most wonderful idea. You hold it, hands cupped, away from the wind. It may have been around for years, or it may be in its earliest stages. You zing and flare when you think of it. It’s a goal, dream, wish, fantasy or someday-I’ll-do-it hope. We all have one. So what to do with it?
I rarely write down quotes from holy books — the Torah, the Bible, the Koran or any other sacred book. My scribbled notes tend to be quotes from dead poets, things my friends say (Me: “Wait. Wait! That’s great! Say that again!”). Or, things children say (One 10-year-old to another: “You’d better come quick and see! Your brother’s having a fit!” The second boy answers, shuddery: “Is it fun to watch — or is it terrible?”) Holy books? I have them close, so I rarely quote them.
But several weeks ago, I found a key tag with a quote handwritten on it, hooked to my foot-tall, Wizard of Oz-ish hourglass. I’d forgotten I’d put it there.
I’d written: “I work and who can hinder it?” For a moment I thought “What on Earth had I been thinking?” And then I remembered January 2004, when I locked myself in the bathroom.
When I’d read the quote from Isaiah I’d cracked up. I knew I couldn’t hinder God’s work, but I sure could hinder my own. Give me half a hinder, and I turn it into a full one every time. I’d been getting in my own way for years.
But that January, I vowed to get out of the way. I decided to lay a stage for the work I thought I needed to do. I decided to lock myself in the bathroom.
Like most of us, I’d gotten very good at saying “I should,” and “I will,” and “when I have time.” In other words, I hadn’t done squat. My yet-to-be-done work was all tied up with writing; it involved taking pen to paper.
So, in January, when the “I shoulds” usually begin to pile up next to treadmills and ab machines, I locked myself in a bathroom. For one hour a day, with nothing but a notebook, a pen, my dog and the hourglass. Seriously, I did. No one else was awake, or around, or allowed to disturb me. The hourglass told me when I could escape.
I tried using the clock on my computer instead of the hourglass, but do you realize how much you can procrastinate when you have a computer under your fingers? I tried using a clock radio, but do you know radio programming has much improved and there is almost always something interesting on the dial? I tried using my watch, but I swear to you, its makes a small ticking noise, and I found myself counting the ticks. Hence, the hourglass.
Locking myself in the bathroom? Well, obviously if I can find a way to be distracted by time-keeping devices, leaving myself loose in an entire house, or library or coffee shop was hopeless. Locking myself in the bathroom was my one hope.
I sat there, for my hour, on the cold floor, like a bird in the wilderness — only instead of trees, I had towels that smelled of dryer sheets.
I wrote the quote and put it on the hourglass to kick myself in the pants, and because of something universal: We all know that we have some purpose and we spend a lot of time wondering at it, thinking about it, evaluating it. Sometimes we don’t, however, spend as much time working it or letting it work in our lives.
I wrote poems in that room. They eventually became columns. And since December 2005, I’ve been at this. Now, at least on most days, I can sit in my office. But, I do still have the hourglass, and a cold bathroom floor, should I need them.
This year, don’t get in the way of your own important work. And, don’t let anybody else get in your way either. You don’t have to lock yourself in the bathroom; you can find your own capture. Your gut knows you must. This is your year.
E-mail Fort Collins poet and writer Natalie Costanza- Chavez at grace-notes@com . Read more of her essays at .
