Change of seasons

Things that I don’t feel like doing anymore & don’t know why:

1. Drinking alcohol to get drunk
2. Making accommodations for relationships that don’t fuel me
3. Putting on the pretence of happiness
4. Taking nudes & selfies
5. Getting angry over the news
6. Holding space for people not invested in my well being 
7. Working myself to the bone
8. Working for free
9. Skipping meals
10. Putting myself second

Things that I am craving & I don’t know why:

1. Time alone uninterrupted
2. Time in silence among the trees
3. Slow jams & female vocalists
4. Non-violent TV & media
5. Tidy living space
6. Manual labor
7. Wholistic foods & meals
8. Meaningful connections
9. Patience in thoughts
10. Opportunity to grow new roots

Things that I am doing & I don’t know why:

1. Looking forward to going to work
2. Giving up on detailed long term plans
3. Posting less on social media
4. Reading less & consuming less media
5. Talking to the point of excess with people near me
6. Thinking to the point of excess about how my actions are impacting others
7. Snapping at people I am not close to over small inconveniences 
8. Feeling guilty for not taking care of everyone around me at the expense of myself
9. Unable to formulate thoughts & ideas into complete written words
10. Looking for reasons to base how I feel off of

Things that I am not doing & I don’t know why:

1. Sitting down to meditate
2. Talking to my friends about how I’m feeling
3. Writing 
4. Practicing yoga at home
5. Working on my creative pursuits
6. Looking for another job
7. Concerning myself about finances 
8. Feeling depressed, suicidal, or hopeless
9. Starting new projects or latching onto new ideas
10. Longing for something or someone that is not already here with me

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That’s a wrap.

Wow. What a weekend. What a festival. Thank you. Thank you to everyone that conspired to share their talents, and to bring this far fetched dream to reality. We far exceeded my wildest dreams of what this festival could be, and what it could mean for so many beautiful, wonderful, humans. 

For me it’s meant the opportunity to live my creative values, to give back to my community in a meaningful way, to be part of something larger than myself, to create new works & opportunities that are selfish in the best way possible. I have been consistently taken aback by the waves of love & generosity everyone has poured into every aspect of this festival. .
I keep saying it, but this festival was a stone soup production. To put it bluntly I just decided I was going to put my cash on the line with no hope of return & do whatever it takes to make this festival something that would feel like home. But once I provided the pot & the stone that drew people together their contributions far exceeded my expectations in every way. 10 amazing artists, over $1,000 grossed, audience packed to the rafters, and especially the love.

There were many people that introduced themselves to me for the first time this weekend to tell me how much they enjoyed the festival, and started out with “im not really an artist” or “I’ve never performed before but, I’ve had this idea” and that’s the most beautiful thing of all. There is a thirst. So many people with ideas stirring waiting for a pot to boil in. They want their opportunity to be part of creating something magical. I’m honoured to have connected with so many hearts & hope it contintues well into 2017.

There are so many more things I could say but can’t find the words.

I love this little city so much. I love these brave, willing, weirdos so much. I love creating art that isn’t for the final report numbers. I love creating space for creative connections. I love you for giving me space to do what I love.

Thank you all for your immeasurable support.

Take care & god bless

Half a morning thought

I keep getting trapped in the idea that finance is the only way to make my life bigger. Cold hard cash  seems to be the most direct route to get what I want because it doesn’t rely on me as a person having or creating any value in the world. This thought inherently devalues myself no wonder it’s so harmful & addictive. I’ve been happier on less, and not as successful on more. If balance is the key & im out of alignment then perhaps it’s time to start thinking about what else might be missing.

5x where the mystery begins

A new list of insightful pondering.

Enjoy

1. Ray Bradbury on Writing, Emotion vs. Intelligence, and the Core of Creativity via Brain Pickings. Set aside a half hour to listen to the entire interview, it’s beautiful to hear such verve for life.
2. My very kind friend d’j sent me this beautiful video of Lydia Lunch on the cultural history of No Wave it gave me shivers
3.  Fruit for Feminism video shared via  Laura McNaughton. I found to be a very soothing and reassuring video which I return to often when anxious.
4. The Empty Brain via shared with me by Sarah Flood. I’ve found myself often returning to the ideas of this article and re-examining how I understand myself and the world around me.
5. The Intelligence of Emotions: Philosopher Martha Nussbaum on How Storytelling Rewires Us and Why Befriending Our Neediness is Essential for Happiness via Brain Pickings. Spent a very fruitful evening in long conversation with a dear friend about ideas in this vein of how we are responsible for crafting our own life narrative.
6. Finally a gentle reminder for each of us Is it selfish to follow your bliss? via Marlo Johnson

Jubilee

Ritual is very important to me. I was not raised religiously which is perhaps why learning about other customs was so fascinating. Unified words, actions in order, shaped over time, generation to generation. There is something significant that there is a world wide tradition in observing repetition even if the specifics change. It’s meaningful to me.

When I was a girl I dreamed of taking a twelve day silent retreat away from the world to go deep inside of myself and discover the secrets lying there. In my vision I would meditate in silence for twelve days with only my writing and nature to keep me company culminating in a all night vigil surrounded by my nearest and dearest dancing my way into my golden year. It didn’t happen like that of course. I didn’t have the control over my space or my schedule enough to create that kind of solemnity of festivities, but it’s an image I’ve held on to. A dream of a dream of a dream.

This year is my diamond year. A sparkling reminder of what might be discovered in the dark depths. A glimmer concealed in the pressures of shifting tectonic plates. Minerals crystallize. Sharp. Bright. Strong. I now have a room of my own where I am sole master o’er my domain, and very little responsibility to those outside of it.
The time is ripe to revisit that dream.

Twenty-five days & twenty-five nights.
I am taking a vow to come unto myself in solemn reverie.

What would it be like to live my life only for me?

Lovely seclusion.
Consecrated purpose.
A devoted practice of self.

The thought feels intoxicatingly delicious!

Is this a vow of silence? Kind of.
Is this a vow of stillness? Closer.
This is a vow of oneness.

To inhabit myself fully and accept perfect completeness found there.

This is not an exercise in austerity or virtue. Although I will be giving certain things up, and ritualizing others. The intention is never to curb or manipulate the will of self to serve other purpose. There is no alternate agenda or inspired syllabus, no prepared program to guide my steps. I do not need to arrive “better” out the other side of this journey.
I am my best already.

Pure indulgence.
Private glory.
The gift to myself of time & energy just to be.

A diamond in the rough.

The Illiterate Writer

I write things

I write them so you can read them

If you so choose

No one is forcing you

I can barely be bothered myself some days

Reading is such a gift

That I’m grateful my mom gave me everyday

I was a late reader

Too active to be interested in sitting and starring at the page

There was so much world to explore

What fun was learning by book?

By the time I started to pursue reading more actively

I was already old enough to understand how complex the English language was

It daunted me

How could we expect anyone to remember all these rules and exceptions and definitions

Layers upon layers of symbols

That I wasn’t apart of

So I bolstered my ego with it

It became part of my personality

That I just “don’t like reading”

As if it were a matter of preference

I would put the bare minimum effort in to learn

When it didn’t click I would shrug and confirm

“It’s just not for me”

Meanwhile I still spent most of my time outside playing

I started to learn about story, and fantasy, and history, and drama

Our games unfolding their own complex narrative

I started a writing group with my friend although neither of us could spell and we both struggled reading the back of the cereal box

But we knew we could write

We would sit opposite one another on the floor in the basement

Pencil and paper in hand

Each taking turns reciting a line from the story

As one of us would spin the tale the other would jump in with revisions and edits in real time

We carefully crafted plot, character, dialogue, subtext

As we each wrote the story out in our own secret language

We called it our magic language

Because if you didn’t know how to spell a word you would just make it up

Like magic

Little did we realize how important innovations like ours were to the strength of the English language

From Shakespeare to Twain to Snoop Dawg

English is a shapeshifter

Constantly evolving

To welcome the uninitiated

To expand the new frontier

To reflect the many tongues that have enfolded it

To reveal the unknown minds that have shaped it

Once I learned to live with language without the constraints of written literacy

I fell in love

I wanted to know more

To read for myself the stories of the classic authors that had come before me

To seek other worldly knowledge myself beyond my backyard escapades

I wanted to be able to record my thought, ideas, and stories

As scraps of information for future explorers to discover

Once I sat down full of intent to read and write it did not take me long

Granted I already had nine years of experience

Telling stories

Discovering mysteries

Exploring complex ideas

Understanding nature

Questioning everything

Years of listening to my mother read to me

Of being immersed in theatre and oral storytelling

Of seeing the world uninhibited by language’s explanations for things

These were the hidden gifts my mother left for me

The most important of them all was time and trust

Only once I came back to it with my head emptied of ego

Full of wide eyed wonder

Did I learn how to read and write by heart

No sooner, no later

Year of Yin: Letting go

January is that moment when the rope swings out over the clear blue water, inviting in it’s efferescent cool stillness, just as gravity grabs hold of the pit of your stomach and squeezes that knot of fear held too tightly, for too long, while your fingernails instinctively dig deep when you have to decide to grip tighter to that rough rope tearing your tender flesh red, or let go into the unknown space between you now and then.

Allowing for simple solutions, accepting things as they are, finding the easiest path, open to be vulnerable in the waiting, surrender to the currant, yielding to hidden strengths in times of struggle.

Imperfectly ingrained into the interconnected web of life. 

I am learning to accept with grace mistakes as they are made without sacrificing my integrity. Securing sense of self against the inevitable onslaught of insidious illusions. 

It takes a lifetime to live a moment.