Life

Asleep at the Switch

/ still a dreamer

“We are most deeply asleep at the switch when we fancy we control any switches at all.” – Annie Dillard

emergencyswitchIt was my thought to delve into one of my favorite books, “Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy” by Sarah Ban Breathnacht, for the month of December. But when I picked up the book and put the placemarker ribbon to the top, the book fell open to November 30th – a sure sign that this is what I was supposed to read. And the quote above was at the top of the day’s reading.

Of course, this was what I was meant to read. We all come through periods when it seems everything goes right – things get done with minimal effort; the results we desire are achieved; and all is well. We feel in control. And then comes a rough patch – a car accident; the furnace isn’t working; the oven dies; the furnace is fixed but the emergency switch is faulty and won’t turn the furnace off if there IS an emergency; the new stove fumes are so toxic they cause a severe allergic reaction; and on and on and on. It seems nothing is in our control.

But there is one thing we can control – our thoughts and our reactions. We will never be in control of all the things that happen around us; that’s just life. Believing we’re in control during the smooth patches becomes an illusion that is easily shattered when life deals out a whole bunch of crap. Learning to be in the moment and accept the things that happen and move through them without fear is a lesson we all can learn and/or practice. And why the book fell open to this page for me.

The switch at the head of the stairs is now fixed. I feel safer, but understand that the switch is no guarantee. It’s an interesting place to be.

Inspiration

/ still a dreamer

Where do we get our inspiration? How is it affected by our moods?  Though not the case today, once was a time when the sadder and more tragic my life was, the more I wrote. To this day, I’d say some of my best poetry came from a sad place.

But why not joy? Why not both? Why not the endless mysteries of life? I find my inspiration to write and draw comes from such a myriad of places … searching for a fall image in my clip art or on iStock, I find myself momentarily lost in the soft, misty photos of autumn trees and roads, and I know down that road lies a story. And I can tell you it’s a wistful one.

Looking at a wmv file of dolphins creating their own rings underwater and then playing with and bursting them with their noses, I see a tale of wonder. I know there’s a story of swimming with them, to really be among them, and share moments of our intertwined lives and ancient histories. It might first be a tale of wonder, then of empathy and joy and lightness. In shimmering, watery blues.

While I work at the computer, I listen to the radio through iTunes. I’ve rediscovered one of my very favorite music genres on FolkAlley.com.  I’m once again entranced by the simplicity of folk music, and struck by the endless stories complemented by six and twelve string guitar. The music takes me back to another time when feelings were alternately bright and shiny, rich and deep, overwhelming and frightening – living away from home for the first time and in New York City. I’m at home with folk music. While connecting me to the past, it remains contemporary. The stories it tells bring me images for illustrations and I’m dreaming in rhythm.

Some days I feel myself a portal for infinite possibilities … inspiration everywhere. How about you?

One Little Piggy …

/ still a dreamer

It struck me, as I looked through the many shots I’ve taken with my digital camera, how many I’ve taken of late for “a reason” and how few just for the joy. Even this shot of a wonderful bronze-like piggy that I purchased from a local craftsperson for an amazing price was taken to show someone else. Yet I enjoy that I’ve captured the pig in this photo.

I’m pondering this as I look at the most likely end to an incident that happened to me about 2 weeks ago. I was struck by a Toyota Sequoia shortly after I, a pedestrian, had entered the crosswalk. It took a lot of energy out of me, and of course, tending to believe, as we often do, that I’m invincible, I am also upset and frustrated that I can’t quite move on with my life as planned. Two weeks later, I’m healing rather well, and realizing how much worse it could have been. So despite bills that will be coming my way, and aways to go before several of the injuries will be resolved, I’m still much happier being less scathed.

Then I noticed that I just exhaled. The worst is over. And for whatever that means, it does mean this – I can get on with the part of my life that was suspended in mid-air, the most creative part. I have not felt like journaling; I have not drawn so much as a stick; and have not been working on my children’s books. Who felt like it? Who knew how this would all go? Now I know, and I’ll be picking up and moving on. I hadn’t expected that the most, and perhaps least obvious, area of my life to be affected would be my creativity. Somewhere in the physical pain, discomfort, disbelief at my fate, sadness, anxiety and all that went along with it, creativity just got snuffed out.

So I’m re-igniting the pilot light. I’m looking at this little bronze-like pig that appears to be smiling when I look at her. Yeah – I believe I’m back.

Afraid of Bugs and a Hanging Thief

/ still a dreamer

How I became afraid of bugs started when I was a child. Where else? I can only attribute this fear to a mother who was terrified of the tiniest spider on the ceiling which my Dad had to remove immediately. A little girl, being identified with her mother and all – well, clear enough where that came from. Bugs were made out to be evil itself.

But wait. My father was exactly the opposite. He carefully scooped up any intruders in his handkerchief and ushered them out the back door, free to fly or crawl away. I recall once in the summer in the backyard, I was becoming upset over a gnat in my lemonade. I know – a gnat, right? Clear as day, I remember my father saying, “Look! He’s hardly drinking anything at all!” That brought a faint smile through my tears. He sure wasn’t afraid of bugs.

Alas, my Mom’s fearful cries were louder than my father’s calm voice of reason, but in the end … Dad’s reason prevailed. Today, I know bugs are cool.

Robber Fly - Hanging Thief

Robber Fly - Hanging Thief

While I do prefer that I spot them first rather than them land on me unexpectedly lest I have a throwback experience, I realize that insects are quite fascinating. This morning I sat out on the back porch to journal. There I have a bunch of potted impatiens, polka dot plants and black coleus. Sitting with my coffee and about to write, I noticed an unusual character sitting in the impatiens. Got the digital, took some close-ups and decided to find out what it was at the end of my work day.

Fast forward to 6 p.m. and I’m on a really cool site that I just love, now that I’m not so afraid of bugs – What’s That Bug? I figured with those huge eyes, he had to be some kind of fly though he didn’t look like one. Sure enough – there he was – a Robber Fly, and of the type called the Hanging Thief. So now I know about Robber Flies, how they’re beneficial, and why I shouldn’t push my luck and aggravate one, not that I would anyway. (They have a painful bite when pushed to their limit.) Pretty cool!

OK – it’s not my plan for this to be a bug site. Really. They just seem to keep showing up when I’m sitting still. And as bugs are creepy to so many people, I guess it’s not so bad to give them a little good press. Who knows? Maybe I can help you be a little less afraid of bugs.

Make Me Smile, Make Me Cry

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

How often is it that you watch something on the web and you are moved to tears while feeling an inner kind of joy? Not that often in my book, but every now and then – something really hits the mark. This one did it for me.

Go take a look at Where the Hell Is Matt? and click on Dancing 2008. And then watch his Dancing Outtakes, and whatever else strikes your fancy. This guy is joining the world through dancing – he’s not going to win any dance awards – that won’t be why you check it out. You’ll be going to watch a young guy wearing a joyous smile with an energy and a love for peoples of the world who wants to share it, AND get people dancing with him. It just blows me away, and so far, everyone I’ve sent it to.

Oporto-PortugalIn his About Matt section, (his FAQ’s are pretty funny, BTW), one of the things mentioned is that Matt believes that Americans should travel abroad more. That really struck a chord with me, and I truly agree. I find that Americans as a nation are rather insular, but to travel outside of the U.S. borders is truly eye opening. The first time I left this country was to visit my cousin Norman in Portugal – I was 23 years old and had never been on a plane, leave alone in a country where I couldn’t understand one word anyone said.

Perhaps this visit should be for another posting, but let me say that the vast difference in cultures, landscapes, language, food, architecture, etc. gave me memories I’ll never forget. And yet, there was nary a soul who didn’t go out of his or her way to be kind to me, a total stranger. I think many people’s world views could change just in knowing that, despite the differences between us, there are amazing common bonds. Matt is sharing one – dancing. It really has touched me. Go look – Matt is one cool guy.

p.s. I apologize that this photo is not mine – mine are in slide format and I’ve never taken the time to learn how the thing-y that came with my scanner converts them to images I can use – but this one, taken in Oporto, (where I also visited with my cousin), is a decent stand-in for the loveliness and simplicity found in the older areas of Portugal.