Contact Improv

I was looking for a new contact improvisation video for the sidebar and came across this film. It is by Tina Speth and was submitted for the contact improvisation festival in Freiberg in May 2013. It will appear in the sidebar for awhile, but I wanted to give it more attention with its own post. Lovely. Contact improvisation in everyday life.

Writing Through ______(fill in the blank)

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Writing is not something that happens when life is smooth sailing. When the stars are aligned and everything is calm, everyone satisfied, the cat sated and asleep, family members smiling and getting along.

Or maybe I should say that those things are not required for writing to happen. They help! I agree. But not required. I would even argue that life's little knocks are often fodder for story, for getting us to the feeling state - in the body, as I'm sure Lidia Y and Dorothy A would say - which can help keep our writing alive.

I am in one of those states. There is something happening in the circle of my life which threatens to pull me into an eyes forward, hunker down for the storm to hit, kind of state. I'm standing up to it and I am writing. I haven't written about the situation yet - but I'm not letting it shut me down.

I said I was going to post more here as I step up my writing practice in preparation for NaNoWriMo. This morning I did more editing on the professional standard practice paper. That writing was research and formatting of our resources page; not creative writing, but it got my butt in the chair.

So here I am. Writing through the family drama. Writing through the professional paper and related article for our newsletter/magazine. Writing through fighting the cold which is going around and threatening to get in to my body (but it won't win; I'm heavily armed with Wellness tabs and fizzies).

Showing up.

Found Quote

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I ran across this quote today. I like it. Very much.

"Where the hand goes, the eye follows; where the eye goes, the mind goes; 

where the mind goes, is the heart; where the heart is, lies the reality of being."

- Bauhinia Adriana, The Mirror of the Gesture (ancient dance treatise)

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Acceptance and Integration; Moving Forward

detail of Heart Connection collage by Dot. 2013

...recent conversation...

P: so is it fair to say that creativity has been present all your life?
Me: well, not really, I mean. Sometimes.
P: okay, so most of your life?
Me: I've had writing. But time off, sometimes years between. Theatre, long periods of involvememt,  a couple years off. Some art, but...
P: and
Me: yeah, okay. I guess really, sure.
P: (raises eyebrows)
Me: okay yes, I've had creativity present throughout most of my life. Okay, all of it that I remember.

...there was more to the conversation, but this is the part which is relevant to what I want to write about right now...

This conversation did start my brain tossing neurons around remembering times when I didn't write, for example.

Oh, but when I wasn't writing creatively, meaning fiction and poetry, I was Newsletter Editor and Staff Writer for the college newspaper, a women's crisis center, a drama troupe (two of those, actually) and then at my Office Manager job at an alternative health care clinic - and more.

Oh, and when I wasn't being stage manager/director/assistant director/poster designer/general tech crew, etc for a play but I was writing skits for a child abuse prevention drama troupe and learning to throw pottery and making silk paintings and silk scarves.

Then I was writing.

Then I was making visual art. And crafts.

Then I was doing theatre.

And making music when I played the piano. Playing other people's music and making up my own when I felt like it.

Or working in the yard and completely redoing the structure and the plants and making a cement sun walkway from the street across the grassy area to the house.

And more.

I guess creativity *has* always been present in my life nearly as far back as I remember. Coloring within the lines, though not always. Making mud pies - yes, I really did. "Flying" by jumping off the neighbor's picnic table with sheets tied around our waists, wrists, holding them over our head. Writing my first book, all 72 pages by hand, when I was ten years old; my first play for my class at age nine. Learning piano (thanks, mom) and violin and being in the orchestra; second chair in Junior Symphony. Taking up cello one year when we didn't have one; viola another year when we were missing that instrument. School plays, community plays. Collage and clay and sketches and making sand candles and scrapbooks. Teenage angst poetry and short stories and more sketches. Speech team and drama and choir and and and.

I get it.

Now let me take a little time to integrate.

Creativity - not just writing, although writing has probably had the longest running engagement in my life. As much as I remember, anyway. Unless you count the mud pies.

Yes. I've carried my creativity with me everywhere. I promise to look at it more often and bring it out, or at least not hide it. Because creativity is me and creativity is my blood and my bones and I don't have to hide it.

Creativity is breathing for me. And we all know that deep breathing is calming and restorative.

Right?

Returning to the Up Position of the Seesaw

photo from Seesaw of Life - a nice article about failure and success

Writing - and I think creating, in general - is a seesaw ride for some of us.

Or we think it is.

I do, at least.

Today I feel I'm back on the upswing. Yesterday I was holding onto the edge of the dark pit, slipping and yet not letting myself fall, wondering if I could haul my ass out one more time. Wondering if this in and out, up and down - the excited energy of new ideas, then the plummet of self-doubt with or without external ignition - will ever end. Thinking, no, it won't, so what's the use of trying.

Except I do try.

I return to the things I love and I don't give up. The time between the flow of creativity, the sagging lack of confidence or lack of sleep or lack or validation, and the return to writing is shortened; sometimes hours or maybe a day or two. No longer weeks or months of wondering, waiting, trying to ignore the sense that maybe this time writing or theater or art-making and I won't find our way back together.

But I do find the path.

And today I know that this is a cycle.

That periods of not writing don't mean I'm not writing - what I mean is that I'm not putting the words on a page. Paper or computer screen it doesn't matter. If I'm still thinking and open to what surrounds me and ideas are being sparked, then I'm in the process of writing. And rewriting and editing is writing.

I think this lift of the creative teeter totter I've found that little bounce as my butt hits the ground and I rebound into the air, with creativity intact. And realize I've only dipped; not lost.

It's good to be airborne again. To have words back in my pocket and on my screen.

Thank you to writing partners and writing group members and friends. And my partner and Pamela and Bonnie. And all of the other people in my life who help keep me moving forward and help me remember that I can and I am.

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Backing up the Dam or Writing Fuel?

photo by Dot.

It's not a bad time. Or necessarily a hard time. But it's one of those "a lot" times.

I came off of vacation into a heavy work time - no complaints, I have the work, I was able to make up some of the work time missed. The beauty and struggle of being part-time employed combined with self-employed is that there is no PTO and yet there is some work hours flexibility.

In that busy time I did some editing of a couple short stories; one of them is going to be submitted to a publication this weekend. I also worked on two pieces from the M-book.

It's good to be back in the garden, which is huge. Well, the parts of it that are still producing. The spinach outgrew itself and now new seeds are planted. One kale type is about expired and the other is nice a big and will become tasty kale chips in the next few days (when I have time to harvest, trim away the woody parts, and put them in the dehydrator). The tomato plants and the spaghetti squash are the giants. I wonder what dehydrated spaghetti squash will be like? Squash chips, anyone?

And my own other projects in the wings. The ideas written on paper while on vacation. The email notes to self of scenes or characters or germs of a story. Photos for visual creations, memory aids to detail in a story. And more.

Today I picked blueberries in a writing friend's yard and she gave me a couple of squash, as well. I petted her recovering dog and we talked about writing, the current political scandal on the home front, growing fruits and vegetables, and whether saving things that might help with a future book are actually fodder for creating story or a memory aid of a time it's hard to let go of. And more.

And I'm looking at that interplay, the tension, between work and creativity - between work and art. Is that a necessary and healthy tension for most of us? I'm not sure. The person I was talking with yesterday says, yes, for most people it is. Because if only the independently wealthy or that magical infinitesimal group of superstars who make it are the ones who are allowed to create, we're all in trouble. Right? She has a point.

My perspective now as I wrap up this post has changed from when I started it two days ago. I've made a conscious decision to not go back and edit out the rough parts or the parts that have changed; I've even decided to leave the title, which is still accurate and yet this post has changed.

I was feeling stuck when I started this writing. Not so much stuck as hovering in a place of waiting to see what was going to happen next before moving forward with anything. Hovering, watchful, wary, nonproductive. Partly because I have a few important people in my life going through some really hard things right now. Really hard. It's given me some personal introspection and "things to work on" and that's okay - but I was hovering, unknowing, waiting.

I think the wind has shifted and I feel some movement.

But the questions still remain about :
- how much discordance is too much, when we cross the line from "artistic suffering" (I know - hold that thought, that's another writing all its own) to paralyzing overwhelmedness
- what are the key ingredients for keeping the energy moving through those times? when it's Our Time? when it's a Friend's Time?
- is it maybe a good idea to just write it down now, as it goes, as it is; without thought toward literary merit or publication? Or is it better to let it pass through and write it down later, with some perspective, with intent? Or both?
- do we really need to suffer for our art? No - that one I will answer for myself now: I don't believe it is necessary to suffer to create. I think suffering gives us insights and that there will be suffering - but I don't think we have to seek out suffering in order to create; we have to be present to create and that brings with it a whole range of experiences and emotions.
- balancing creative time with work and home and family and friends.

"Wallabies Talk the Talk"

Razor's Edge for 7/20/12: Listening and Shadows

Today's prompt is a video and a sentence starter. As always, don't feel that you have to include the phrase, but you can, of course. It may spark a completely different direction or you may start writing towards it but never arrive; whatever you write is fine.

Of course.

This week, read the word prompt and then watch the video. You may feel drawn to write before the video is done, so go with it. This week is about listening to your writer voice inside. If you feel wrapped in the movement and/or music of the video and want to hold off putting words onto the space until it's done, that's fine, as well.

Listen in. Write. For 10 minutes.

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PROMPT:  Stepping back into my life I noticed . . .




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Life Is A Mixed Bag - And Other Things You Already Know

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This has sure been a time of ups and downs: unexpected surprises (of possible good news) and unexpected surprises (confusion causing contacts) and excitement wires crossing nervous wires and not being sure which is which.

I gave myself a deadline of completing the draft of this memoir of July 31st. I didn't get it done. I'm close. Really, really close. I can't remember if I already said this here or if I posted it on Facebook: it's beginning to feel like the never ending bowl of spaghetti at a restaurant. But then I go back and I have several more chapters completed and one new, unplanned chapter I wrote - it snuck up on me while I was writing something else and, voila, a new chapter was born. But there are still four unfinished. And a little editing is needed on the newest ones before I pass them off.

I    am    almost    done   with     this     book.

Then I hit a busy work week. More hours than normal and more days than normal and then there are the personal appointments on top of that. The end of that busy week led into another and then a strained foot made it so I couldn't even get to a friend's birthday party; the one "just for fun" activity missed. Then an email waylayed me emotionally for a day, which added another appointment to my week. Then I had an out of town meeting with another interpreter - that was very exciting and stimulating and plans and ideas were bursting on my drive home. This last weekend I had a two-day job which provided some great experiences - some went really well and a couple not so well and it's all a part of what I do. During that job I sometimes felt like "this is why I like what I do" and those couple of "not so well" times I felt like I should never do this again. Then another job went really exceptionally well and my self-esteem returned. And so it goes.

But I didn't write a thing this past weekend. All work; no play; no writing. I did sleep. I didn't get to the gym or on the bike or for a walk in the neighborhool. In fact, the only walking I did - in addition to all of the "floating" to see if we were needed at the conference - was the halls of my part-time job the night after the conference.

I've been at this place before - the end of a particularly busy time of work, trying to get some type of balance back. I woke up this morning, after my resolve yesterday to get myself to the gym and into the pool, feeling like there was no way I could do that and everything else I needed to do. Feeling too tired; overwhelmed; frustrated by a particular situation - "why bother?" - and that change-is-hopeless pit tugging at my ankles. Then the emails, the messages, the phone call to return, the survey to complete.

And now it's noon. The good thing about it being noon is that the classes in the pool at the gym are done. And I don't teach until 5 and then work after that. See - I can find my optimism again.

So - overwhelmed or not; nothing written except emails and taking care of business; I have had my coffee and my breakfast and. Yes. I will go to the gym. Then pick up the laptop and get close to the school (so I avoid the rush hour traffic to get to the school) and write.

Ups and Downs. I'm on the roller coaster of life and I will get this memoir done. Every bowl of spaghetti has a bottom and every book has The End. My schedule, while not yet "ideal," is better now that the conference and the long week before that are done.

Now, to the pool!
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A Time of Change and Wonder

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My massage therapist, Cydney, moved away last week; she closed her practice the week before that. I've known for a month that she was leaving and was able to get one final visit with her in her last week. She was amazingly gifted, insightful, intuitive and had helped me so much over the years I'd been seeing her.

My previous massage therapist, Simone, who I'd been working with for a number of years - first as a colleague at the health care clinic, then as my massage therapist - committed suicide. She was also very sensitive and intuitive, but she didn't have the tools to protect herself and there are many details I don't know. She went through a tough time due to a mental health condition and took time off work. She went back to a small private practice and not too long afterward, she killed herself. It was traumatic for many in our community. Many questions, no answers.

I got a referral to Cydney from someone I trust; Cydney has been an amazing massage therapist/body worker. So, while the transition to a new LMT was unexpected and the circumstances were emotionally hard, all turned out well.

Cydney's reasons for leaving are vastly different - she is very much alive and thriving. And it was still unexpected and I wasn't ready to change. But she did give me some names of other massage therapists in the area, told me about how they work and gave me recommendations. She put a lot of time and thought into making good referral matches for her clients.

I talked to Cydney's top two referrals for me on the phone. I'd scheduled an appointment with the first person - but after I talked with the second LMT, it "felt right" - more right than the first person, whom I'm sure is skilled and would do good work (and was highly recommended by Cydney, too).

So the end of last week I went for the appointment with the new LMT, Daria, and - wow. Her work was amazing. I feel that she was definitely the right choice for me and all of my nervousness about starting over with someone new has dissipated. I think this new bodywork experience is going to take me into a new direction and a new relationship with my body. I would have happily continued with Cydney and am going to miss her - and this feels like a right and good transition.

And I also would like to tell Cydney "thank you," for allowing me the opportunity to heal from my transition to her by providing an opportunity to transition out to a new LMT in a healthy, thoughtful, and respectful way. I don't blame Simone - I know she suffered and she did a lot of good for a lot of people, she was very kind and loving and caring, almost too much so for her own good; but it was hard to lose her as a friend and provider. I didn't realize there was a little residue of the loss of Simone until Cydney told me she was moving away; now I feel I've had the opportunity to heal that residue.

I'm not exactly clear how this relates to writing at this moment - except that it is another life lesson. And don't all life lessons help the writers and artists and dancers and actors? Even the CEOs if they'll listen, and anyone with a creative bone in their body?

Maybe this lesson, for me, is about being open to change. That saying about one door closing is the opportunity to open a new door. I know that's my own spin on the words, but that's how it is for me. Because I have been locked in the old place, shut in the room feeling like there is no way out, worried that if XYZ falls apart/falls through/breaks down then my whole life-system will crash and I'll have nothing.

So maybe now is the time to take this example and say, okay. There are options. Even tragedy, like Simone's death, can lead to a new opportunity. And sadness, like Cydney leaving town, can turn out to be an opportunity for growth and change I didn't even know was possible or needed.

And I wonder about other opportunities - presented or not yet, taken or avoided, how a loss is actually an opening to something else.

I have an application in for a program (IPRC's printing & publishing for writers) and am waiting for an answer; the deadline isn't until July 30th - I applied early. I really want to do this program - and I have this amazing clarity that whatever their decision, it will be the right thing for me right now. Yes, I want it; yes, I'm hoping they accept me; yes, it would be absolutely great and there would be so many opportunities opened up because of this new knowledge and skill set. And, if the answer is "not now" - I will be okay and there will be reason.
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Tricycle's Daily Dharma: 2/20/11

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"Live Lightly"

We have to cultivate contentment with what we have. We really don't need much. When you know this, the mind settles down. Cultivate generosity. Delight in giving. Learn to live lightly. In this way, we can begin to transform what is negative into what is positive. This is how we start to grow up.

Jetsunma Tenzin Palmo, "No Excuses"
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Real Life - one day, one project, one step

This is what it is - projects to do (a play to interpret - tomorrow), papers to grade (final journals, final self-assessments, check hours, calculate percentages, compute the grades), appointments to get to (work, the doctor, more). And then, unexpectedly, a minor car accident, t-boned, on the way to a job. Moments thrown out of whack and everything else still needs to be done.

One moment at a time. One hour at a time. One student's work at a time.

I will get it done.

Tomorrow I ended up with the morning off - but now I have to take my car to a body shop to get it looked at. Minor damage from what I can see, but that's why I'm taking it in. I'm not an expert and I've been warned there could be internal damage that's not visible. It wasn't my fault, but I still have to deal with it.

Then a department meeting for 90 minutes.

Then off to the theater where I will interpret "A Christmas Story" (yes, based on the movie of the same name) about three hours after the meeting. Set lights. Meet up with the interpreter I'm working with and our Sign Coach. Then - do it!

Which is followed by five straight days of work. And that is followed by a week off work. Yay.

After tomorrow - although I will be working for another five days straight - things level out a bit. Especially if the car only needs a new hubcap; easy. And I will also be going to the doctor on Friday - just to make sure. I'm a little sore and stiff today - but I'm hoping that goes away by tomorrow, that it's just from the stress of the accident. It was scary having the other car headed right toward me; it was on the driver's side.

But I'm okay - no major damage to me that I can tell. No major visible damage to the car.

And it's one thing I really didn't need right now.

That's life sometimes. And life goes on.

One moment. One hour. One day.

Then it's a new day.

I guess my experience of Mercury going retrograde just started a little early. (My computer also wigged out three days ago and I have the authentic blue screen of death. Someone is going to help me try to at least retrieve my data this weekend, even if we can't revive the whole thing. I really didn't want to have to replace it - but, that's a part of life these days, too. Thank goodness I have a back-up - unfortunately, some files are only on the currently quiet PC.)

Life!

Cafe Mundo

It seems to rarely be open, no matter the time of day or time of year. But today, with the fog from the ocean ebbing and flowing like the tide, I sit - again - across the street, sipping another soy latte. Munching on a hazelnut brandy biscotti. And above the cement wall decorated with sidewalk chalk, where the next night's guest musician is announced, a waiter all in black and a half apron comes out of the ivy and overgrowing bush and. Lights a torch.

A light in the growing darkness, shimmering on the breeze, announcing they are open.

And I wonder. Maybe tonight I'll go.

Or not. I take my latte and walk down the street, away from the flames of quiet business blooming.

spoken word: "Fight. Have Sex. Think. Sleep."

Spoken word artist Juliana Luecking, aka QueenJuliana, of Kill Rock Stars and live performance fame, has done some really nice work. It is alive and real and makes you think and touches deep inside. She has a great series, mostly on YouTube and on Moli, called "People are a Trip" which asks the big questions and gets a lot of answers. She also has a CD with some amazine pieces, called "Big Boned Broad" which I listen to repeatedly. She lives in Brooklyn, NY, and is also a massage therapist and reiki practitioner.

If you like this one, go see more of her work.

If you don't like this one, go see more of her work. You'll probably find one that speaks to you. Humor, politics, the arts, filmmaking, life, opera, New York City, people.

Click here to watch her short piece, Fight. Have Sex. Think. Sleep.

"People live in all nine stories of that building. They fight, have sex, think, sleep, make good art and bad decisions. They have unruly hair in the morning, complicated schedules during the day, and tasteful quiet dinners at night. Their gruffness in the stairwell is completely appropriate. The building is on Broadway, just south of Union Square in Manhattan.

writing assignment

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This week's Lit Star Training assignment started out with wandering the neighborhood with a digital camera and capturing five images. These were mine, with initial comments. (There's more to the assignment, but these are my images.)


Pictographs left by an unknown person on a corner of the sidewalk. Two figures smiling, sunny, happiness, contentment. They make me smile every time I look and them. I nearly walked over them without seeing.

(I already posted this one a couple days ago.) Signs of urban life. Confusion. Too many directions, micromanagement, controlling. Taking away our right to think. Which can lead to a path of non-thinking.

Lost and not yet found. Furry pets, a rat - like a large rat, yet soft, and loved. Yay for a way where technology fails us and we resort to old fashioned sign posting. I hope they found (her).

"Beware of Cat" sign posted on the gate below a wooden archway. What a perfect perch for the guardian cat and I wonder where she is as I admire the open to the sky opening the people made for her. Welcome and beware.

Inner sanctum. Nature cannot be controlled. Denseness. Branches and offshoots and they all work together to block out the neighborhood, to reclaim the air and the sky and be alive. Wildness.
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intention: a poem

I sent an email out and attached my "writer" signature (I have one for interpreting, one for my adjunct faculty job, and one for writing). I rarely look at the content of the signatures any more -- isn't that why I set them up? So I can just select which one applies, press the mouse, and voila, there you go!

But today I did notice. It was one of those emails which didn't really require a signature attachment but it seemed like a good idea. But it doesn't fall into the interpreting category at all and it is not a writing thing.

So, today, I noticed.

At the bottom of my "writer" signature is this poem by Mary Ann Radmacher. Fitting. It's where I am mentally and spiritually and, I suppose, even physically at this moment in time.

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live with intention,
walk to the edge,
listen hard,
practice wellness,
play with abandon,
laugh,
choose with no regret,
continue to learn,
appreciate your friends,
do what you love,
live as if this is all there is.

..................................................by Mary Anne Radmacher

It's a reminder I wanted to put out into the world today to anyone else who may be needing a little boost or confirmation of intention.

looking for inspiration

I'm doing okay in the inspiration department - now. I wasn't a couple of days ago, but think I've bounced back. I was so far out of the inspiration track that all I wanted to do was come home from my assignments and crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and sleep.
Anyone who knows me knows that is not at all my style.

I didn't see the point to life. I felt I had no goals. Everything felt overwhelming. I've just agreed to do some part-time employee type of interpreting work that I was feeling ambivalent about (there are pros and cons to doing this work; I'm pretty sure it will be fine once I get the training out of the way and actually start doing it). My work schedule is in a time of transition and unknown at the moment as I hang in the limbo between waiting for orientation and training for the new p-t job and college classes are ending and early September tends to be my slowest time of the year and and and....

Then, after an insightful comment from my partner, I realized that what was truly happening was that I had no creative activity in my life. Nothing going out; nothing coming in .... work and future planning and more work.


Last night as I recounted part of my PICA T:BA:08 schedule to my partner, which includes a few workshops and some "chats", I became animated and excited.



Today during down time at my lengthy job I read more of the "No Plot? No Problem!" book, which was written by the founder of NaNoWriMo, Chris Baty. See, I signed up to do NaNoWriMo in November. So I bought the book. It has been helpful and confidence boosting and entertaining. And I have renewed my excitement about undertaking this journey and in my ability to actually write 50,000 words in 30 days. Thereby having the completed rough draft of a novel in same said 30 days. No, I don't have an outline or a plot or a mile-long queue of characters waiting to begin. But I am building up writing stamina and I have my excitement back. The rest will come.

PHOTOGRAPHS/ARTWORK:
- Childhood Depression (c) Richard Wilkinson from Yamashita Riki's blog
- Deborah Hay's Room performed by Linda Austin and Tahni Holt: PICA TBA06
- cover of "No Plot? No Problem?" (see link in post)

loss: Anna

Anna Ingre. May your spirit be at peace
and all your kindnesses repaid.

Talked with my partner today and found out that a friend of ours died unexpectedly this morning. Someone I hadn't seen for a couple years; I think my partner had seen her more recently than I. One of those "I should have called" when I was thinking about her a month ago situations and it's too late now. A reminder to keep in contact with friends because we don't know what's around the corner. I also found out a couple days ago that another friend and his wife are expecting a baby in early 2009. Birth and death - inevitable, part of the cycle - yet an "out of the blue" death touches that place where I don't want to live in fear that each moment may be the last, yet at the same time living with the reality that each moment may truly be the last. Balancing knowing it and not fearing it and living fully and well. And keeping in touch with friends, not letting them slip away, making time for at least a phone call, a cup of tea.

Thinking. Feeling. A loss.

Random Thought #2

Plugging in to unplug from the hamster race.

...iPods/mp3 players as we walk, drive, work, eat, sit in class, chat with friends...
...cyborgs with bluetooth ...
...cell phones, smart phones, iPhones, Chocolates (why *are* they called that?), Razrs, Blackberrys; IM, txt, emoticons; push technology...
...always on, always available...
...students balking at an assignment to walk around the neighborhood for an hour without being plugged in to any technology, looking for examples in the community...
...wondering who called and didn't leave a message...
...calling back a wrong number so we don't miss something...
...parallel conversations of bus riders waiting at the stop, as if they were sitting alone in their living room with some privacy...

I AM

A spoken word piece by Eric Mata

I want to update my K-inspiration image (K as in a mathematical constant) and I want to preserve this video in my blog, so I'm moving it to the contents section.

found: prompt

Overheard comment: World events should always be studied in stereo.

From Opposites Jamboree
by Bishop Animation