Tag: creative

The Tao of the Magpie

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Daily Prompt: Take a look at your bookcase. If you had enough free time, which book would be the first one you’d like to reread? Why?

It’s very rare I reread a book. Or re-watch a movie. When I was a kid summer was rerun time for favorite TV shows. I hated it. I played outside instead.

I have learned about myself in the past few years some very key things, and one is that I like new. Not new in the sense that I have to buy everything new, on the contrary, my home if full of found objects rich with some else’s personal history. New as in fresh, new to me. New as in ideas. It’s the spark I’m addicted to, not the finished product. It’s the first page and all the possibilities. The blank canvas. The blinking cursor.

As a creative person I am struck with the desire, or maybe even need, to make new stuff up. I used to think it was shiny thing syndrome – in the middle of one project and, but oh, what if we did this? About something completely unrelated. ADD? Perhaps. Gifted? Let’s go with that.

This was a real problem for me. I would sit at my desk and start stories, or put together a piece of jewelry or begin painting some mixed media thing. Once it was clear in my head? Once I could ‘see’ it all the way to the end? I abandoned it. In my mind I had finished it and now I could move onto the next creation.

I would write the most amazing self-help books, my insight fresh and aha inducing. The cover of the book was beautiful, you could tell right away it was something that could, no, would change your life. Every page had something so rich it begged to be highlighted. Oprah couldn’t pull little stickee notes off her fancy highlighter fast enough to mark the wisdom in those pages. She would have to have me on her show.

The interview went swimmingly, she shook her head in amazement and just couldn’t stop saying “Wow, you’re so right, I hadn’t ever looked at it that way. This is truly a game changer.” Then we’d go out to lunch and she’d fund my next big idea.

Then I’d look down at my notebook or journal or computer screen and there’d be one sentence. All it takes is one, it’s the tinder to my overactive imagination.

Sticktoitiveness. I lack that gene.

But then I would meet people who had worked the same job for 30 years and thought my life was magical. I would talk to people struggling to figure out what they wanted to do and they would look to me for advice. I am on the other side of 40, pretty far on the other side, and I still wonder what I want to be when I grow up.

I have learned to embrace my quirks, my magpie-ness. I have had many job titles and worked in many fields. I have read copious books from self-help to historical fiction to, well everything, making me a great conversationalist at parties.

So rereading a book, even if I had the time, seems almost wasteful. There’s so much NEW out there. But if I am being honest, I might pick up Sarah Addison Allen’s, Garden Spells again. And Eckhart Tolle always seems fresh to me.

But I don’t want to even entertain having extra time, because I would surely fill it with something new.

Snowy Knows All My Secrets

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Daily prompt: Have you ever named an inanimate object? (Your car? Your laptop? The volleyball that kept you company while you were stranded in the ocean?) Share the story of at least one object with which you’re on a first-name basis.

I have struggled with determining the personality of my car so as to properly name it. Her. Him. Three years in its still just a vehicle. I love it, I take care of it, but it remains an it.

I like to name things. Or rather, I like to create stories around things, applying personality traits to everything from critters to the weather; having full conversations with woodland creatures that sit still long enough for me to take their photos. But as I think of it, I have never actually named them, instead referring to them in the familiar as ‘friend.’ I have a particular penchant for turning verbs into nouns by ascribing qualities to places like Distraction and Procrastination. And I am inclined to make up biographies about people I pass on the street; giving them full back stories based solely on how they walk or the expressions on their faces.

Yet naming things that do not move of their own volition eludes me.

Snowy. I have a white teddy bear from my early childhood that has had the fur loved off of him. His name is Snowy. I can’t be certain, though, that I named him.

A previous purple car acquired the name Barney. But it wasn’t I that named it.

Dogs? Yes. Cats? Yes. Children? Of course. Iguanas? Once.

Perhaps, sadly somehow, the answer is no. No, I have not named an inanimate object. But I’ll be okay. I feel no less complete as a result of this shortcoming.

I will chose instead to continue my tete a tete with the rather loquacious Mr. C, our resident cardinal, in my bay tree out back. I will visit Distraction. Again and again, maybe taking a side trip to Productivity once in a while. And I will continue to love my car, whatever its name may be.

Feeling Groovy

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I have not yet fallen into the groove of my life. You know, that comfortable, yet active, relaxed state. Leaning back into life, open and ready but not anxious. Available for the next moment by being present in this one.

I feel it must exist. I have friends who seem to be there, but then that’s my perception. I think I’ve even been there, dipped my toe in on occasion, only I just recognize it as somewhere I’ve been, I don’t catch it in the moment. Perhaps that’s by design. If I notice I’m in it, will that take me out of it? Yearning to recreate it, missing the present once again?

My imagined groove goes a little something like this:

I wake up smiling and refreshed at 5 am. I brew myself a cup of organic free-trade coffee, add a dash of organic cinnamon, raw sugar and organic half and half. I take mug, that I purchased from an extremely talented struggling potter, full of this morning brew, on the deck of my modest ocean front home, or the balcony of my 12th floor upper west side apartment in New York City. Of course I could be traveling, probably I am, so maybe it’s a chai on the rooftop of a 5 story walk up somewhere fabulous in India or a steaming cup of tea in a coffee shop in London. Whatever the case, I am armed with gentle caffeine and settled into a chair, facing east, with my journal and pen, ready to watch the sun rise and let go of thoughts that may be bouncing around creating havoc.

Then I go work out, because I love to, usually dance or some other high energy sweat-making movement. Come home, shower eat a breakfast of organic goat’s milk yogurt with organic granola and a banana from my own tree (why not?).

Refreshed, fed and ready to go, I am at my desk at 9 AM ready and waiting for inspiration to flow through me, which it always does. Sometimes I write, sometimes I edit photos or create photo cards, other times I make jewelry.

I stop for lunch. Something delicious, nutritious and organic, no doubt.

Ok, so this is my groove. The rest of the day just naturally unfolds into a glorious evening of meaningful conversations with great friends back on that deck or balcony. We talk about consciousness and ways to make the world a better place. We share what we’re working on creatively and our processes. We plan to go to gallery openings and take trips together. Maybe we’re drinking naturally decaffeinated organic tea grown since the 6th century, that someone has just brought back from their recent trip to China. Or perhaps a new Malbec from a friend in Argentina. Jazz plays in the background. It’s a band we know personally. Or maybe one of us is sitting quietly plucking the strings of an acoustic guitar, creating on the spot.

The flaw in this scenario? When do I get to eat too much of the wrong thing? Where do I fit in Orange is the New Black? Where’s the struggle that make success sweet?

Truthfully I would be totally okay with this groove. I don’t need to create struggle anymore.  I know enough people who do and they don’t age well. They don’t see that they have a choice. Struggling is a choice. Suffering is truly optional – a state of mind. It’s in their perception. A wise teacher, Yogi Amrit Desai once said something like, “Wanting things to be different than they are is our only problem.”  Acceptance of anything is the key. You cannot change something you refuse to accept, it doesn’t exist.

And so, I accept that I need to move, write, be creative and tromp through wildlife to snap photos. I also accept that I’m in my groove more often than not. I have sipped excellent coffee from ocean front decks, high rise balconies in New York, Chai on rooftops in India and tea in coffee shops in London. I write. I move. I create. I have done all of these things.

It is in those moments that I feel disconnected and outside that I need only remember that this too is part of my groove. It is the recognition of the present moment that is indeed the groove.

[Photo: The magnificent city of Udaipur, India.]

Super Powers for Sale

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In our ever-evolving world it’s no longer necessary to be born with your super powers; they can be purchased and even financed. Once acquired it is difficult to let them go. Fortunately upgrades are usually available.

So what’s always within arms reach?

The romantic side of me wants to tell you it’s my camera I can’t live without. The ego side of me wants you to believe I have a yoga mat slung over my shoulder every waking moment. Sadly, I believe the truth of it might be a bit more mundane, pedestrian.

My super powers are in my phone. There, I said it, but before you judge (those of you that aren’t woefully nodding in agreement) allow me to elaborate.

I, like so many, rarely use my phone for actual conversations anymore, succumbing to the efficiency of the text. I am also fortunate enough to work in a pseudo-retail environment where I have ample human contact on a daily basis. And it’s a yoga studio, so it is 99.999% pleasant and uplifting.

Instead, I use my phone for other communicative conveyances. I take copious photos – it is much more comfortable in my pocket than let’s say my digital SLR with its telephoto lens. I blog – it’s true – the whole time I was in India in February I would recount the day’s events on my tiny little screen, squinting, backspacing and correcting auto-correct, just to get the memories down. It wasn’t ideal, but it was efficient and a lot more portable than my laptop.

I manage a few Facebook pages. Phone. Check.

I schedule events and clients. Phone. Check.

I have to-do lists, too many. Phone. Check.

I have passwords that need managing. When did this become a thing? Phone. Check.

I don’t wear a watch. Phone. Check.

I don’t have an alarm clock. Dogs, first, but when away…Phone. Check.

But like all super powers I too have my kryptonite: no wifi. After my brain empties completely and I stare blankly at the lovely person who meant no disrespect upon informing of such, I take a deep breath and look around. I have learned to use Notes or Evernote and pre-blog my musings, thereby pacifying my need to connect in that moment. Or, I meander wherever I am and snap photos. See? Magic. Powers restored.

I suppose if I were a recluse I could live without my phone. Or use it, you know, as a phone. But if Dorothy had never left Kansas she wouldn’t have needed those sparkly red shoes either. And neither one of us would have any stories to tell.

So, back on the road, finding every day enchantments to photograph and write about, I bring along my little digital world. But don’t worry, it’s all backed up to the cloud, so should I *gasp* lose it I won’t lose it. My super power, that is.

Writing Prompt: Object Lesson. Sherlock Holmes had his pipe. Dorothy had her red shoes. Batman had his Batmobile. If we asked your friends what object they most immediately associate with you, what would they answer?

[Photo: Sunrise in Long Island, Bahamas with my iPhone 5S – Super]

 

21 Day Body Love Challenge – The Eyes Have It

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My eyes have always been my favorite feature. No matter how young or old, thin or not so, I have always been complimented on my eyes. It is an accident of birth that I have blue eyes. Everyone in my family has them. They are also shaped like everyone’s in my family which is to say, eye shaped. Not too big, not too small, just right for my head.

Eyes are the windows to the soul. At the very least they can indicate the level of life or crazy in a person. I’m sure you have looked into someone’s eyes and had the following experiences:

1. You can’t look away. There’s depth and love and you can see right through to their soul and their soul is your soul. Or perhaps you’re drunk.

2. You can’t maintain eye contact. There’s something judgmental and disapproving in their eyes and it makes you extremely uncomfortable. Or maybe you’ve been drinking.

3. You look into someone’s eyes and it’s vacant. No one is home. Energetically they have checked out. Or maybe they’re drunk.

All drinking aside, I’m sure you’ve had incredible experiences looking into another’s eyes. Felt things that you can’t explain, a familiarity, a jolt of energy, even love, even from a stranger.

If you are someone who simply cannot look another in the eye, start by looking yourself in the eye in the mirror. A person who does not make eye contact is generally thought of as untrustworthy. Maybe. I also believe there are a lot of people out there that don’t have the first clue who they are and they are scared to death they will  learn that they are bad people. This is almost never the case. So gaze deeply into your own eyes and fall in love!

I am an extremely visual person. Most people will tell you they are too. And it’s true for many, but I seem to have a keen connection between what I see and what I remember. Not photographic or eidetic memory, but certainly situational. And daily, not just big events.

It’s my super power. One of them, perhaps the most impressive.

For instance, my husband will leave his keys on my dresser, which he almost never does. I notice them there, without really paying attention. The next morning as I am journaling or maybe fresh out of the shower he will shout from the front door, “Hey,” unable to finish his sentence before I respond, “On my dresser.”

Clairvoyant? Yes, in the truest sense of the word – clear sight. I cannot predict the future, except to say I see many more opportunities to amaze my husband and some of my co-workers with the location of their lost objects.

My eyes are sensitive to light. This is true of people with light eyes. The less pigment the more sensitive. Same with skin and hair. I’m a little like Casper the Friendly Vampire. White hair, pale skin, light eyes, ghostly white, hissing at the sun until I can hide behind sunglasses.

At high noon in the middle of summer I will close my eyes against the brightness if I don’t have sunglasses. This does not bode well for the other drivers. So I must have many pairs of prescription designer sunglasses. It can be no other way. It’s a public safety issue.

As I get older my eyes are beginning to look more like my fathers. My eyelids becoming heavier, hooded making my eyes appear smaller and tired. Or like I just woke up after sleeping on my face for 12 hours. Unlike my dad, I can use a few magic wands, known as concealer and mascara to create the illusion of well rested eyes.

I like the wrinkles around my eyes, they convey a life lived happily. When I was young I couldn’t wait to have those little lines on either side of my mouth. I thought a nice set of smile lines with a matched set of crow’s feet made people look friendly and approachable. And I could see nothing wrong with that.

Still don’t.

“The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter – often an unconscious but still a faithful interpreter – in the eye.” – Charlotte Bronte

 

Use it or lose it; your life that is.

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The other day as a friend and I were chatting, she began to tell me about her sister. They had grown up in the mid-west and her sister chose to stay there. She had picked the wrong man, stayed with him too long and had two kids in the process. She had taken a job in a factory and worked there for many years to support her children after she divorced this wrong man. She was remarried now to a nice enough guy and she was, you know, just making her way through life.

Those last six words hit me like an arrow to the heart. “Just making her way through life.” I don’t think this is why we’re here. Any of us. We all have days or even weeks we’re just trying to get through, but there are people who LIVE there.

How can that be?

Everyday I hear someone say, “I hate my job. If I could just win the lottery, I’d be set.” But that’s not true. They have chosen to play small. They probably don’t realize it, they’re held down or back by fears that aren’t even theirs. Someone in their past taught them that the responsible thing to do was to provide for their family, create security and do good work. That’s all true, but they likely framed it in such a way that meant, it doesn’t matter what your calling is, what you’re drawn to, what lights your soul on fire, there’s plenty of time for that after the life-leaching world of punch clocks and pensions.

But that’s not true either.

Every time we engage in something against our authentic selves we lose a little life force. There may be time after work, after retirement, but the spark is gone, the energy depleted. If you feel it now, now is the time.

I think this goes beyond perspective, beyond belief systems. If you feel, ever, that you’re meant for more than whatever you’re doing, and you don’t act on it, you are living out of alignment. You are ignoring your higher self. And she will come back over and over again, eventually with a vengeance until finally she either gives up, withers and dies or you have no choice but to listen.

Catch the whisper, follow the thread, see where it goes. You can do this AND have a job. For now. Maybe you’re calling is something you can do right now in your present situation. Maybe it’s outside that box. Only you can know. That’s between you and her.

I once asked a friend who was working really hard at conceiving a child, why she wanted children. She looked at me dumbfounded. It wasn’t a judgment or challenge and she didn’t take it that way, she had just never thought about why. So let me ask you this: Why, then, do you want to live? We spend millions of dollars keeping ourselves alive for what? Because we’re afraid to die?

A fear of death is simply a fear of a life unlived.

No one sits around aspiring to just exist. Marking time as if time served gets us a gold star on some universal report card.

Consider that this life was given to you, entrusted to you. Your job is to use it. How, is up to you. Maybe it’s to be a great parent, supporting and encouraging your children to become the very best, useful versions of themselves. Maybe you’re to save the lives of others through medicine, psychology or just plain old love. Maybe you are to discover the mysteries of the universe, the secrets of history or the exact location of the g-spot.

Your main purpose, I suspect is to love and uplift others. The good news here is that you can be short, tall, skinny, fat, blind, deaf, physically or mentally challenged. You can begin right now, even with your current job or situation. Your work then is to find that thing that cracks open the shell of fear gripping your heart and lets just enough light in to remind you that your only real job is to be you and you ARE love.

This is not some fancy notion. And you don’t have to walk around with a beatific smile, donning long robes, gliding a few inches above the floor. Although that could be fun. You can be sarcastic. You can swear. You can eat too much chocolate. You can smile at a stranger. You can paint. You can write. You can applaud a friend’s successes and hold the hand of a dying loved one.

Know that the organization of your cells is uniquely yours. Own that. No one else can do things exactly the way you can. And. You. Are. Needed.

You are necessary.

We need you to use your life. Declare yourself an agent for change. Even if it’s just a change in your perspective. Forget talking about people or even events, discuss the big ideas, consciousness, unconditional love, compassion, or as Marianne Williamson has suggested, “loving the world back to health.”

Don’t just exist, that’s easy. You were made special, beyond existing. You were made to love.

[Photo: The butterfly represents transformation. I believe they are so abundant because we need this constant reminder that we can transform our lives or our perspective at any time, with each breath. Look down, are you on the right path?]

21 Day Challenge – Day 18 – Structure Avoidance, Level: Expert

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Dove IMG_2046I took a little online test today, that was floating around Facebook to determine if I was more right brained or left. I consider myself a creative person so naturally I assumed right. Right?

Balanced. According to the test I use both sides equally. 44% left, 56% right. I suppose in general this would be seen as good news. Isn’t everyone striving for balance in their lives?

But I don’t think it’s balance with which I am afflicted. Rather some sort of see-saw, push me, pull you condition. Each side jockeying for position. The Left side – we’ll call him Spock – tries so hard to impose structure; write 2 hours every day between 9-11, get up at 5, do yoga at 5:30, etc. The Right side – A cross between Dory from Finding Nemo and Andy Warhol (my apologies to both) says, but what if I’m not inspired? What if there are dragonflies to photograph? Tuesdays and Wednesdays that won’t work for me because I have other commitments for part of that time, so….

Instead of providing support for one another they try to outwit each other. Since the Right side, the creative side, is little stronger I am often known to wander mentally. A lot.

Since I’ve started this post 20 minutes ago, I’ve jumped out to:

1. Get more iced tea

2. Read a few emails

3. Locate photo files on my laptop to respond to an email

4. Check registration online for a program I am promoting

5. Redo the “brain test”

6. Respond to a message on Facebook

7. Create a message on Facebook

8. Open a file in a design program to check a link, and

9. Gazed outside at the curtains billowing in the wind.

Clearly structure is called for. I imagine all the incredible opportunities I could create if only I had the time. And I could have the time if I were better organized, and yes, structured.

There are two doves on the bay tree outside being gently bounced by the wind.

10. Stalked 4 doves for photos.

Anywho…

A friend and I were just discussing how since we’ve left the corporate world of schedules, meetings and structure we are definitely; A. more relaxed and happy, and B. more scattered.

Along with the freedom, there’s a sense of being unmoored, sent adrift to find my way. In so doing I collect many pieces of driftwood to keep me afloat, all with tremendous potential to be something spectacular. When maybe all I really needed was a rope back to shore.

But would I have even grabbed the rope if it was handed to me? Perhaps, but chances are I’d still be scooping up driftwood on my way back.

Without structure or even a loose schedule and some semblance of a to-do list, it is nearly impossible for me to feel that sense of accomplishment at the end of the day. And as much as I wish that wasn’t important to me, I have identified that at some level it is.

As a Monday-Friday corporobot I knew I had evenings and weekends to do whatever I wanted. Whether I made good use of that time or not, didn’t really matter. I showed up for work when they asked me to, performed my assigned tasks to an appropriate level and received a check in return. Simple. Structure.

Now I meander through some days feeling self-satisfied at my awesomeness only to scramble for the next three of four days to catch up. As a self-employed person, every day is a work day. Sunday is usually my most productive.

But here’s the difference: None of it is work. I don’t think I could actually work for money any more. Don’t get me wrong, I will gladly take payment for what I am doing – and, in fact, do – but it is all aligned with my passions. And this allows ideas to run rampant pulling me in many directions. Each idea a potential gem.

The Right Brain imagines all the possibilities with this gem of an idea – taking it all the way to Shark Tank or Ted Talks. Meanwhile the Left Brain, shaking its head, tries to lay out the steps that need to be taken before this Big Idea can even be put on paper. We’re at a standstill. Right Brain gets bored. Left Brain gives up. Next idea. It’s very busy in there.

I know there is a solution to appease both sides of my brain and I feel like I’m getting close to solving it. Maybe it doesn’t have to be solved so much as managed. And so I shall appoint the Left Brain to create a schedule that the Right Brain can work within but still feel magically inventive. Perhaps the Right Brain can even help.

I think I just saw the Left Brain roll its eyes. This may take some more work.

[Photo: You already know.]

If you wanna play along…. http://sommer-sommer.com/braintest/

 

 

 

21 Day Challenge – Day 6 – Falter

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Today I made the conscious decision to abandon the 21 day challenge. Just for today. Let me explain.

I have had this big project hanging over my head like a cartoon anvil. It will take many hours to complete, and mental and creative resources I would much rather devote to my true love – anything other than this. There is so much I want to do creatively; write, make, draw, paste, but I feel powerless to be all in with this thing hovering.

Hence the day off. I’ll be right back on it tomorrow, fresh and new. Or so I thought.

I learned two very important things today:

1. There is no such thing as a finite amount of creative energy. I am under the impression that I have about 5 hours in the morning in which to write, design jewelry, draw, create greeting cards, do yoga and yoga nidra, take a photo walk, and go to the gym. Turns out it’s not true.

While I wake up fresh and an open channel for creativity I can achieve that same level of openness by doing yoga nidra or stepping outside to watch a squirrel play for a few minutes any time of the day. I learned today that I could do the creative project I was resisting as well as manage to be creative in other ways. After 10 AM.

2. There is room and time if it is important enough. I did the challenge anyway. And rather than take me out of the zone, it was a welcome reset. I fit it in. It has become important enough to me to make time for it. And it proved itself valuable.

I have been watching my mind where this project is concerned. There is so much resistance. Every time I think about all I have to do, the inner mental brat has a little tantrum, whining, kicking things and becoming gravity itself. I expend precious energy resisting this project which is really just delaying my bigness – my real work. It’s a fear of what’s on the other side of the completion of the project. Another one? More resistance?

It will not be the same thing, of course, resistance is a changeling. I will think it is something completely different, and on the surface it will be, but its end game is the same. It’s a stall tactic.

So it’s not the project that has to go away. It’s the resistance. And that’s another story all together.

Resistance is the hurdle, it is “X.” When I get done with X, then I’ll….  When I lose X, then I’ll…. When I have X I’ll… What if I suck at algebra and I never solve for X? I should have paid more attention in high school.

Do I even need to solve for X? I don’t think so. X is not real. X is the illusion, it looks real, feels real, but it can’t be. It always goes away. The real magic trick?  I am the magician. I create the illusion, I know how it’s done, and I still fall for it.

Time to pull back the curtain of doubt, remove the mirrors reflecting my own fear back to me  and blow away the smoke hiding the true self.

Time let go of the shenanigans and get on with it.

[Photo: With the French doors and windows wide open I can hear all the critters scurrying around the back yard. I was actually called out by the coo of dove, but as I opened the screen door the dove flew away and I caught this little feller.]