Asleep at the keyboard

It is the last of February. I've been doing some feng shui-ing in my room, removing a shelf that interfered with smooth entry. It's so much better.

Last weekend we took a trip to Wake Forest & Chapel Hill & Winston Salem. A very lovely experience. I'd tell you more about it if I wasn't about to fall asleep. Definitely beddy-bye time for this chickie. I shall let the robin sing you to sleep, or sing you to wake. Me, I'm set for dreaming.

See you in March.

Blog alternative:
280. Take a look at your space. Is the entry welcoming? What can you do about that?

6 more winks of winter, says southern groundhog

 I just spent a week--or a season--in my pajamas. Hibernating, perhaps. Or changing into an entirely new organism--caterpillar to butterfly--in a cocoon. Maybe it was a cold combined with a series of winter storms, that suddenly just up & fled these Carolina mountains.

No logical explanations. Where is the logic of a week in pajamas? But when one doesn't specifically have to go outside--indeed, can't, for days, because her street hasn't been plowed of its (not quite a foot of) snow--& she does have have a cold & she already got enough groceries to last &...

(Some members of the household, who didn't have colds were more adventurous. Jon & Satori rode a kayak on a steep street in the middle of downtown with some friends. No, I'm not kidding!)

A week in pajamas. It was so delicious. Actually it was a mere 6 days, because Wednesday last I had clothes on & Wednesday this I donned (the same) clothes again. Except Wednesday last I wore my puffy coat & today a hoodie was too warm. Woo hoo. Spring has sprong!

The groundhogs did see their shadows, but here in the southern mountains, that means 6 more winks of winter. Gotcha. Just kidding. No, I mean it. Aw, you know I was joshing you...etcetera. 6 more winks of winter. Unlike in the northlands (47 years in states that border Canada; I think I know what I'm talking about) where it can snow in October & not melt until May. The first year I was here, it was 70 degrees on the first of January. But we do get real snow & real cold. It's a win win. Nothing boring about the weather here.

So, I got some fun things done during the week of the pajamas, including reading a truly dynamite book by the truly dynamite Martha Beck. Finding Your Way in a Wild New World: Reclaim Your True Nature to Create the Life You Want. I'm going to get my own copy, because she has so many great exercises in it. I also worked on some contests I'm judging & played a little (grin) poker & did some writing & watched some cool videos & movies & lectures, from Jimmy Durante singing Inka Dinka Doo to documentaries on Salvador Dali & Picasso to The Parent Trap starring Hayley Mills to The Making of Yentl. What a strange feast for my brain. What wonders will come out of that percolating, composting, internal spontaneous combustion engine?

So today, it being in the mid-sixties, degree-wise, I walked downtown for milk. I returned some misprinted checkblanks to the bank (apparently they no longer have the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum ones that I've had forever so I took back the boring ones they'd sent me instead & got the wildlife ones) & took pictures of the springtime.

It was odd to hole up during one season & emerge in another. I don't feel like a bear, though, unless it's a very tiny bear that just broke out of a chrysalis & is wondering where the heck these wings came from.

I know that in some latitudes, winter's going to be winking madly at you for a while yet. Don't hate me because I'm southern. Grin.

Blog alternative:
279. Take to your pajamas for a day (or more) & see what you discover.

Simon says, "Cry!"

This is Jefferson & his parents, back in 2004.
 I met them when I was in Peru & I sponsored his education.
He just graduated from high school!
Yay, Jefferson. All the best to you.
If you want to do something similar,
check out Angels of the Amazon

I'm not much of a websurfer, as you might guess if you've read my periodic "why the blog alternative" explanations. HOWEVER, the other day I went nutsoid on youtube, watching video after video in which (mostly young) people surprised & delighted the heck out of the judges on various talent competition shows. (Britain's Got Talent, The X Factor, American Idol, that sort of thing.) OMG! To see a young Indonesian girl in a head scarf do "Grenade" or a goth boy who has never sung in front of ANYONE in his whole life (not even his parents) come out with the most beautiful opera or the girl with her dancing dog. Wow. Just thinking about them now makes me happy. I feel like anyone can do anything. (I did NOT watch the ones where anyone who could NOT do anything humiliated themselves in front of the judges & were completely surprised when Simon reamed them a new one…)

I'm not going to make youtubing a major hobby, or even a minor hobby. I'm glad I did it. Someday -- not soon at all -- I'll dip my toe in again. But it did help make me even more hungry to create, to do the things I do well, to get them out there. I'm not going to try to flaunt my vocal skills to impress anyone -- I'd deserve to have Simon make me cry -- but I'm glad I'd already decided to get some of the novels (one is already almost formatted!) that have been languishing, unread, out there in e-book form.

The Csikszentmihalyi (I spelled it without looking!) book on creativity is interesting. It was first written in 1996, before anyone &/or their dog could publish their own books with great ease, before youtube could get you out there, in front of the millions -- or threes -- of viewers. He talks about gatekeepers being an important part of the creativity factor, outside validation. That is still true, but going viral can be the validation now, as well, the online public rather than just editors or music producers.

So, here's to creativity, to getting it out there, to head-scarfed girls & goth boys. To Susan Boyle. To Ashleigh & Pudsey. To doing what you love until you're great at it -- or to doing what you love whether anyone at all finds any value in it. The true value is in doing what you love. The rest -- making Simon cry, getting kissed by Tulisa, 4 yesses & trip to Las Vegas -- is whipped cream & cherries on top, but the sundae itself is in the joy.

Blog alternative:
278. Take some creative thing you do out for a walk, in public. It doesn't even have to be the thing you do best. (I have a secret -- well, not any more -- fantasy of learning a couple songs on my guitar & heading for a minor street corner with a hat & busking a little. I'm better than some of the people out there doing it…not many of them, but some.)

PJ Days

This is a picture from holiday time in Montana, but it easily could be from here in Asheville. It was single digit-y this morning. Brr. A nice, weather-inspired PJ day. I got some good things done--I just did them without putting proper clothes on. What am I saying? PJs are THE proper clothes for a PJ day.

January has been a lovely month. I spent an extra couple days in Montana, because my flight was cancelled. The weather wasn't that bad in Montana, but probably my plane was in Boston or something. Time for a few more games of pitch with Mom & Dad. We played--drumroll!--170 games. Dad ended up the winner, but he had to come from way behind to do it. My big success story was that I skunked him 3 times in cribbage. (This just does NOT happen. Cribbage is not my best game at all. I got major league lucky. But don't tell my dad that…)

So, almost Groundhog's Day. My guess is that Phil is going to see his shadow & scurry back into the den for 6 more weeks of winter. I could be wrong.

I've read some of the most delightful books. Beth Hoffman (ah, my new love, Beth Hoffman) has Saving CeeCee Honecutt & Looking for Me. I cannot recommend them highly enough. Also just finished read Cultural Intelligence, which brought up the concept that most of us are guilty of, which is Be Like Me. The book is quite business-y, but interesting & valuable, with lots of examples. I also got on a Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi kick & read his Good Business & now have just started Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention. I'd like to know how to pronounce his name, & spell it without having to think too hard…

Now it's time to do some other things. I have a haircut scheduled for tomorrow (yay Casi at Eclipse Salon) & an oil change for my Toyotiac next week. I'm working on some publishing-y stuff & some creation-y stuff & some organization-y stuff. So what's new? (Everything. Grin.)

Blog alternative:

277. Read a new book by a favorite author. (Or read something by Beth Hoffman!) (Or Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi.)

New baby photon: 40,000 years & 8 minutes old

strangled grape in a lotus bowl

Today's morning pages (slightly edited -- very slightly -- for your consumption)

Here I am again. Not still. Well, still. No, not still. Never still. Always growing & evolving. Eternal, yes. Still, no. No river, no matter how slow moving is ever still. Not even a puddle is still. Water molecules are evaporating & joining the water cycle in the welkin. Or seeping down into the ground water. Or getting gulped by the grateful beak of a bird. Or flying off in birdbathed feathers. Nothing is still.

I think today, Saturday, I'll write some poetry. I wrote some last night. I actually wrote it with my heart yesterday when I was worshipping the congregation of droplets that were worshipping the cedar branches. So beautiful. Sometimes it's okay to forget your camera, because then you want to devour the beautiful sight with your eyes & your mind & your heart & your soul.

So year I am again. I was going to right here, but my finger reached up & touched the y, & before I erased it I decided to write year. New year. New routines, mixed in with the old routines. Nothing is ever old. There is only new under the sun.

Once I heard a story about neutrinos. Once I held my hand out for a second, held my hand in for a second. 65 billion neutrinos flew through a square centimeter of me, on their way to being on their way. Mmmm. Neutrinos. Changing flavors as they go. Sweet neutrinos. Spicy neutrinos. Savory neutrinos. They're really not related to neutrons, except having shared a name for a short period of time.

That's another thing I have no shortage of -- besides sun & neutrinos & air, grin. Ideas. No shortage of ideas. I love having so many ideas. I love being able to execute them. What an interesting word, execute. I don't want to execute them. I want them to realize. I want them to grow. I want them to hatch out of cocoons, groggy with transformation, & spread their wings. I want them to suddenly discover claustrophobia & an eggtooth & no need to stay hunched together. I want them to remember who they are, who they've never been until this exact moment. I want them to blossom. I want them to develop spores. I want them to sneeze & seed the universe. I want them to build webs. I want them to colonize. I want them to leave home with a hobo stick -- or a barbie doll suitcase -- & a dream.

I am in love with the idea of ideas loving their gestation, their evolution. I'm in love with the idea of ideas pumping iron, bulking up, flexing their new muscles. I'm in love with the idea of coaching ideas & having ideas coach me.

I'm just completely in love with the world, with every congregation of droplets worshipping every cedar on the way to every post office. I'm in love with librarians, still sleeping, not yet on their way to the library. But maybe they're awake now, in the early morning, having some coffee & some private time before they head out to be there in case I might be coming by. I'm in love with the sun, boiling out its photons (&, of course, neutrinos) & I'm in love with every photon born in the solar core, struggling through the dense gases for 40 thousand years before it escapes to make the 8 minute journey to earth, in case I might be there. (Or some other beautiful being, be it rock or plankton or hummingbird.) There is such squanderous beauty everywhere. All that is contemporaneous with me, & all that has been, & all that will be -- I am in love with it. So much beauty been & now & yet to come.

It is delicious to eat & drink the idea of that with my mind & heart & soul -- even the parts that have never & will never be in range of my sensors. Dear eyes. Dear ears. Dear taste buds. Dear nose buds. Dear skin cells. I love you all so much.

Blog alternative:
276. Spend a few moments with the idea of all the beauty you'll never see or taste or sense in any way, the infinite beauty. Then spend a few moments with beauty you can (appreciatively) sense. Coffee with just the right amount of milk (which, for you, could be no milk). A blue glass. Your own smile in a mirror. The soft coziness of your robe. (Mine is made of bamboo!)

Under Construction--& jazzed about it

in honor of the upcoming new year
a photo booth version of me as Janus,
the god with 2 faces who can see
ahead & behind...

Weather permitted! All 4 of us kids & all the spouses & all the grandkids but 6 (3 married couples) were there. With Kathryn, that made 16 for sitdown dinner. A fine number. Not quite as many as usual (I’m not joking!) but a fine number.

A while back I had a vivid dream. I was in an elevator, going down, all dressed up with nice shoes. I intended to get out at the main lobby level & go out, but I got out in the basement instead. The area was under construction & dark & I was threading through, calling to see if someone could guide me. A worker showed me to an outside door, to an area that was also under construction with busy machines & workers moving things around. He told me which way to go, but said I should hurry because things were shifting & that way wouldn’t necessarily be open longer. I got through there & ended up on a road, not yet paved, but graded as smooth as glass. The edges were freshly & precisely carved, with no vegetation yet.

At that point I woke up & immediately found a meaning: I’d gone into my own ever & always under construction zone, rather than just staying on the surface where things look complete & finished. It made a big impact on me, especially when someone around me did something—or didn’t do something—that would have otherwise irritated me. They’re just under construction, I’d think. Even if I did succumb to irritation, I’d give myself a break: I’m just under construction. What a lovely thought to be able to apply to any situation.

I also realized that even things that look static—a pristine hotel lobby or a filthy ramshackle whatever—require constant construction. Everything is always changing, in every moment, & it takes a lot of effort to keep them the same. Try to keep another person from changing. To do so, you’d have to remain exactly the same. It isn’t possible, or desirable. Give it up. Enjoy the under construction. When you recognize it’s always going on, you can start directing the workers & machinery to move the job—it’ll never be done—in your desired directions.

This is a really good thought at the ending of one year, the beginning of another. Many of us take stock around new year: what we’ve done, what we haven’t, what desires remain & which have changed, what we’d like to accomplish. Knowing that it’s all under construction, always, can take some of the pressure off. It also gives me a sense of support, having seen all those workers & machines busy on my behalf. I’m not in this alone. I don’t even have to know how to accomplish everything I want. I don’t even have to want it all: some of it will just show up, a byproduct of subconscious desires & the fairies of the universe, many of them wearing hardhats, with grease under their fingernails.

That said, I’m pleased with my own elbow grease this year. I’ve set several great projects in motion & have engineered my working space (aka “bedroom”) to allow them to proceed smoothly. This involved what I’m calling a “room tsunami.”

I have my bed set at a diagonal, with a secret little triangular room behind the headboard, one side open as a narrow doorway. There were a couple folding bookshelves in it, with “art supplies” on them, plus “things that don’t know where else they want to be.” That in itself wouldn’t have been too bad, but I was also prone to chucking things onto the (limited) floor space there, which meant that none of it was accessible. Not a very effective use of a secret room.

One of the things I’ve been wanting to do—& not doing—was using the “art supplies” I’ve been picking up from gutters & parking lots & sidewalks for assemblage. This was cluttering up my drafting table, when I did start a project, which then prevented painting. So, I took everything out of the secret room, put the bookshelves together facing each other (they have open backs, so I can still put things on the resulting doubled surfaces) & put a piece of wood on top, so I now have an assemblage surface that I can stand at. I’ve already completed my first project from the secret studio. No, the Secret Studio. It deserves capital letters. Yay!

I sorted through everything I’d taken out & did a bunch of recycling & re-org. Yes, some of the things I’ve picked up or saved are true treasures, but some just require drinking another bottle of a particular kind of juice. If I need that container for a little assemble figured to peek out of, I know where to get it.

A room tsunami takes a while, & looks far worse for the duration, but I recommend it.

Blog alternative: Take a moment to celebrate being (ever & always) under construction.

Pink leopard print slipper boots--with pompoms!

playing around with photo booth on my mac

Merry happy everything to one & all.

I've missed several holidays. Well, I didn't miss them, but I didn't tell you that

I had a very thankful Thanksgiving, complete with a traditional dinner of kipper snacks. I am loaded with appreciation for all the fabulosity in my life. One of the things I am grateful for is my feet. Such good standers. Such good walkers. High arch, high instep, 6ish or 7ish extra wide. (Lot like my daddy's feet.) Makes it hard to even be able to get my toes into most boots, since my feet are so volumetric, but I did find a pair of cute little ankle high black suede boots with a zipper on the inside & a decorative button (my housemate Satori said it looked like the love child of hematite & tiger's eye) on the outside. Plus KMart was having a BOGO (buy one get one for a dollar) so I got an airline secret weapon: little girls' extra large pink leopard print slipper boots with pink pompoms! (Keeps the dreaded icy draft that always comes under the seats off of my ankles & makes wandering around in airports extra comfy.)

Friday the 13th occurred the day before I left for Montana & of course I had fun with that.

the winter solstice, which I have decided must be vampires favorite northern hemisphere day of the year, has come & gone & now we are gaining little bits of light per day.

& now it's the day before Christmas Eve. We may get some weather, which could curtail some or all of my siblings' travels to Nye, but even if it was just me & my folks & assorted Christmas Eve neighbors & my second cousin's wife Kathryn (who introduced me to Heinlein, Tolkien & tea) who lives within walking distance of my folks (James (second cousin) won't get home till the day after Christmas) we'll have a lovely holiday. (Hope it's more, because it would be WAY too much food & the other lovely ones would be missed.)

I don't have internet at my folks' house, so I'm trying to just get a little bit done here at Carter's Camp.

The other thing I'd like to celebrate is a superb visit with my son Zach, who made a quick drive from Minnesota to Montana. (Left on a Thursday at noon & headed back late on a Monday night.) A magnificent creature, Zach. Tiffany couldn't come because she had a couple shifts left on her old job & then was starting a new job--which she got at record speed from the sometimes slow-moving Mother Mayo--on that Wednesday.

Anyway, I'm out of here for now! I've been doing some fun prep work on a story, which involves my new fave particle, neutrinos.

Love you all--even those of you I don't know from Adam, or Eve, or pick-your-flavor. There's enough love in my heart for everyone I do know & everyone I don't know, living or used-to-be-living or gonna-be-living-someday. That's a lot of everyones.

Blog alternative:
274. Say an appreciative "No, thanks" to a holiday dessert. (I tried that with ice cream when my folks & I & Pastor Paul & Bev had just finished playing a ridiculous 5-handed 7-card pinochle game, but then there was just a tiny bit left in the bottom of the bucket, so I got some anyway…)