Joy

You'll never get it done, and you cannot get it wrong.

This is, of course, pertaining to life in general. At first glance it sounds de-motivating. But think about it: how much misery do we put ourselves through obsessing over "getting things done" and "getting things right", hoping to arrive at some magical and elusive place of accomplishment? I am the queen of to-do lists, so I am all too familiar with this common fallacy. Even if I was to get all-of-the-things done, what then? How bored would I then be? Would I not conjure up some other desire, interest, or curiosity to then start a new list? Of course I would. Because that what life is; it is moving from desire to desire, a myriad of contrasting moments, a continual shedding of the old, and adapting to the new and the better.

I don't mean material things (although that is also true). I mean aspects of ourselves. We are not stagnant beings, and we were never meant to be stagnant beings. Movement means change, which leads to evolution, which results in expansion. In that expansion there is joy, and the freedom to choose that joy. Or not. Lucky us, we only get one moment at a time to make that choice. All previous choices are irrelevant, for those moments have quite literally passed. All the ones to come are beautiful mysteries. Joy is before you now, in this moment as it has been in all other moments, and as it will be again, and again. The best part? No matter what you choose, you cannot get it wrong.

Feminism in the early 1900's

A poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, a woman ahead of her time:

The Tides

"Oh, vain is the stern protesting
of winds, when the tide runs high;
And vainly the deep-sea waters
call out, as the waves speed by;
For, deaf to the claim of the ocean,
to the threat of the loud winds dumb,
Past reef and bar, to shores afar,
they rush when the hour is come.

"Vainly the tempest thunders,
of unsexed waves that roam,
Away from the mid-sea calmness,
where Nature made their home.
For the voice of the great Moon-Mother,
has spoken and said "Be free."
And the tide must go to the strong full flow,
in the time of the perigee.

"So vain is the cry of the masters,
and vain the plea of the hearth;
As the ranks of the strange New Woman
go sweeping across the earth.
They have come from hall and hovel,
they have pushed through door and gate;
On the world's highway they are crowded to-day,
for the hour is the hour of fate.

"Many are hurt in the crowding,
the light of the home burns dim;
And man is aghast at the changes,
though all can be traced to him.
They sat too long at the hearthstone,
and sat too oft alone:
And the silence spoke, and their souls awoke,
and now they must claim their own.

"Let no man hope to hinder,
let no man bid them pause:
They are moved by a hidden purpose,
they follow resistless laws.
And out of the wreck and the chaos
of the order that used to be,
A strong new race shall take its place
in a world we are yet to see.

"Oh, ever has man been leader,
yet failed as woman's guide.
It is better that she step forward,
and take her place at his side.
For only from greater woman,
may come the greater man,
Through life's long quest they should walk abreast -
as was meant by the primal plan."

Chopin

The shore does not cry out to the waves, saying,
"Crush these rocks, take this sand,
Carve me until I am beautiful."

It waits, and it waits,
And the waves come.

The shore does not stop the tide,
It simply allows
The rise, the fall, the push, the pull.

It waits, and it waits,
And the waves come.

And it is not broken, it is not bruised,
It does not resist;
Ever-patient in it's Being.

It waits, and it waits,
And the waves come.

The shore takes shape...
High or low,
It sees the tide for what it is,
And becomes the beauty it longed for.

It waits, and it waits,
And the waves keep coming.

Let's Make Art

"Art has the power to transform, to illuminate, to educate, to inspire, and to motivate." 

~ Unknown

I asked a friend if he would play piano for me, at our neighbourhood bar. He said he would -- if I sang as he played. "Fun!" I thought, before being seized by fear. He also suggested that I perform some spoken word poetry on open mic night. "Fun!" I thought, before being seized yet again by fear.

There's a theme occurring here. Fear. But fear of what? Fear of self-expression? No, that's not quite it...

Ah, yes. Fear of being seen. Being seen involves vulnerability and exposure. It opens up the potential for criticism. A wise man once said, "If you want to avoid criticism: say nothing, do nothing, be nothing." (Author of this quote up for debate).

"Nothing" is not an option for me. Nor should it be an option for any of us. Like so many introverted artists before me, I must swallow the lump in my throat, and walk hand in hand with risk as I show my art to the world, whether that be singing, poetry, or publishing my book.

In the case of my book, I'm taking it a step further; beyond a revealing, beyond exposure. I am asking for help. The truth of the matter is, without help there will be no art to show. It will remain on my hard drive, collecting proverbial dust.

In effect, I am not only saying "See me." I am also saying, "Trust me."

Trust me that this art is worth it. Trust me to deliver. Trust me to spread a message of love, courage, and companionship through a children's tale.

Finally, trust that this is not just about me being seen. This is not just about publishing a book.

This is about us creating art.

Embodiment

Past the point of prose,

Torn between "ought"

and "ought not",

the should-do

and the want-to.

One foot here, 

one foot there,

straddling the practical,

and the possible,

waiting...

For money? For power?

No.

For permission.

Who you are,

what you are,

what you do,

how you do it --

it's all the same.

Or should be.

My desire for art --

is it selfish?

To pursue it, to consume it, to create it...

It's all I want and ever wanted.

The movement, the music;

the canvas, the paint;

the actors, the stage;

the words, the page --

I want it all.

Superheroes and Converts

We cannot see what is ahead when we take action. We can only set things in motion, and then ride the wave. When I first sat down to carry on the stories of Mr. Schnoozle, I had no idea it would turn into a book. A book that is now The Adventures of Mr. Schnoozle. I had no idea I would love fall in love with this little green creature and his friends. In fact, I didn't even know some of his friends existed until they appeared on the page.

And I certainly did not think to myself, "I can't wait to finish this and then spend hours & hours of my free time researching self-publishing, marketing techniques, and crowdfunding!"

Yet here I am with a finished, fully-edited manuscript in my hands, and a least one million (maybe two) tabs open on my browser in an attempt to figure out how to convert this manuscript into a book and how to convert unsuspecting web surfers into fans of my dear Mr. Schnoozle.

I am also converting. I am slowly turning into one of those more-than-one-job individuals. Though I suppose I can't actually say I have two jobs until they both produce income. This full-time nurse and wanna-be writer life has me torn. I vacillate between "Isn't my life exciting?" and "What am I doing with my life?" with the occasional veering off to "Who even am I??"

In an attempt to reconcile this double life I am leading, I like to think of myself as an incognito superhero.

My workplace disguise: crisp, monotone scrubs, hair neatly pinned back, glasses, "Gretchen - nurse" on my shiny name badge, smiling face as I make parents feel better about the fact that their baby is in an ICU.

My after-work super-ness: pajamas (or whatever's most comfortable, which might be nothing), hair in wild disarray, glasses flung across the room, writing emails signed "Pattertwig" or "Luna", smiling as I save the world, one word at a time...

So, I've got some work to do. I have the incognito part down. Still working on the superhero gig. Even so, the imagery helps. I feel less like two different people and more like one person wearing two very different hats.

Weather the storm

Expectations are dangerous. We enter into something with a certain outcome in mind. If that outcome is as we expect, we are more or less satisfied. If it is better, we are thrilled. If the outcome we had in mind does not come to pass or changes drastically, we are somewhere on the spectrum of disappointed to devastated.

There is only one way to withstand changes: flexibility. This is not to say you won't feel any number of emotions at your unexpected outcome. You may feel anywhere from elation to sorrow, depending on what it is you're facing. Without flexibility, we will break. A reed that expects only fair weather and sunshine will snap when the storm comes if it does not bend with the wind. Where are you when the storm passes? Did you succumb and are now lying on the ground, acres away from your home? Or are you once again reaching for the sun?