“Happiness is a sunbeam which may pass through a thousand bosoms without losing a particle of its original ray; nay, when it strikes on a kindred heart, like the converged light on a mirror, it reflects itself with redoubled brightness. It is not perfected till it is shared.”

—Jane Porter

It’s time once again for Link Love, a round up of links I hope you’ll find as entertaining and thought provoking as I did.

Bloggers are an opinionated bunch. We offer stories and advice, hoping to connect with readers and make their lives better. But as Courtney Carver writes in “I Don’t Know What’s Best for You”:

A skill I need to develop—learning how to be comfortable with other people feeling uncomfortable.

Overwhelm. It happens to the best of us. Here’s one way to stop it from derailing your day. 

I enjoy many of David’s posts on his blog, Raptitude. In this one, he shared “4 Absurdly Easy Things I Do That Make Life Disproportionately Better.” What four things would make your list? One of mine: Put the coffee pot on a timer so it’s ready when we wake up!

I read a lot of non-fiction, but I’m embarrassed to say my memory of what I read is often spotty. I’m thinking of trying Michael Hyatt’s ideas from “How to Make Your Non-fiction Reading More Productive.” 

Just discovered the website Art to Self after hearing a podcast interview with artist Steph Halligan. What a terrific idea! I’ve been back several times. One of my favorite “notes”: “It’s Meant to Fall Away.” 

This made me laugh:

Introduction by Ted Kooser: The next time you open your closet, this poem will give you reason to pay a little more attention to what's hanging inside. Gary Whited is from Massachusetts and his most recent book is Having Listened, (Homebound Publications, 2013).

My Blue Shirt

hangs in the closet

of this small room, collar open,

sleeves empty, tail wrinkled.

Nothing fills the shirt but air

and my faint scent. It waits,

all seven buttons undone,

button holes slack,

the soft fabric with its square white pattern,

all of it waiting for a body.

It would take any body, though it knows,

in its shirt way of knowing, only mine

has my shape in its wrinkles,

my bend in the elbows.

Outside this room birds hunt for food,

young leaves drink in morning sunlight,

people pass on their way to breakfast.

Yet here, in this closet,

the blue shirt needs nothing,

expects nothing, knows only its shirt knowledge,

that I am now learning—

how to be private and patient,

how to be unbuttoned,

how to carry the scent of what has worn me,

and to know myself by the wrinkles.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2013 by Gary Whited, “My Blue Shirt,” from Having Listened, (Homebound Publications, 2013). Poem reprinted by permission of Gary Whited and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2017 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Here’s the story as I’ve heard it: many years ago, Brad Isaac was hanging around comedy clubs and doing open mic nights, and had the chance to ask Jerry Seinfeld, who was performing in the same club, for his advice for a young comic. Seinfeld replied that the way to be a better comic was to create better jokes. The way to create better jokes was to write every day. Get yourself a large, year-at-a-glance calendar, Seinfeld advised. Write some new material every day, and when you do, mark the day on the calendar with a big red X. “After a few days you’ll have a chain. Just keep at it and the chain will grow longer every day. You’ll like seeing that chain, especially when you get a few weeks under your belt. Your only job next is to not break the chain. Don’t break the chain.” 

Don’t break the chain.

Recently, I’ve put this idea into practice, with good results. For years I’ve been saying I want to sketch more, and now I have a compelling reason to hone my skills. I’m preparing to join Laure Ferlita’s Blue Walk tour in England in August, and I want to be able to sketch what I see. Back in January of 2015 I challenged myself to sketch for 31 days straight, and saw a vast improvement, so I decided to try sketching every day again. I started Sept. 26, 2016, and I’m still going.

Of course, you can apply “don’t break the chain” thinking to any habit or practice you’re serious about continuing:

It’s a remarkably effective technique, but it can seem a little intimidating to commit to doing something every day. Here are a few things that made the process easier for me:

My goal was so small it felt ridiculous not to meet it: five minutes of sketching every day. Most days, I spend more than five minutes, but having such a small, and very, very achievable goal makes me pick up my pencil and sketchbook. Even when I’m tired, distracted or simply “don’t wanna,” five minutes is still doable.

Every day in my calendar I’ve written the word “sketch,” so every time I check my to-do list I’m reminded of the habit I’m building.

Place whatever you need for your habit in a prominent place. I store my sketching things next to my favorite chair in our family room, and I carry a small sketch kit in my purse.

Use a visual tracking system so you can see the chain. Mark the calendar day with a big red X, as Seinfeld suggested, or print out this free “Don’t’ Break the Chain” calendar. There are also “Don’t Break the Chain” apps for both Apple and Android.

When I tire of sketching items in my family room, I take my sketchbook to the backyard, the barn, or a coffee shop. I’ve sketched from photos and from life. I’ve tried pencil, pen, and watercolor. I’ve worked on larger sketches for more than one day.

Creating helpful and positive habits can make us happier. I know I’m happier when I actually do the things I say I want to do, and the technique of “Don’t Break the Chain” has helped me establish a regular habit of sketching. Not only do my sketches look better, I’m also less afraid to sketch in the first place, since now it’s just something I do.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”

—Martin Luther King Jr.