The perfect personal thoughtful gift

This past Christmas we once again had dinner with a group of friends who have shared an annual holiday dinner for more than 20 years. At the end of the evening we did our small gift exchange.

This year, my friends, Stephen and Karen, handed me a rectangular box. I opened it to find a beautiful leather-bound journal for me to use during this trip to Bolivia. Karen said, “I hope you like it. I know these days people use computers . . .”

But no, it was the perfect personal thoughtful gift.

Like many writers, I write all my first drafts by hand. And I spend time every morning sitting in the La-Z-Boy writing in notebooks as I look out the window at life in my neighbourhood.  The best writing—the really good stuff—comes through my hand first. And every time I go on a significant trip, I keep a handwritten journal.

When I finish writing this post, I will take up a pen and write. In another 20 years, my impressions, my thoughts, my memories, and my experiences as a member of a Habitat for Humanity team will be accessible to me, no matter how much technology changes.

Thanks, Stephen and Karen.

Keep your eyes forward

I am leaving for Bolivia in two days. I will be part of a Habitat for Humanity Global Village trip, and I will be building a house with a Bolivian family.

When I planned this trip months ago I did so with few concerns or worries, but this past week, I have found myself dreaming up every possible “What if” nightmare scenario. As the trip approaches I have been very creative in coming up with worries about every possible thing (maybe even some impossible ones) that could go wrong. I focused on the worries, and not on the goal or my reasons for doing the trip in the first place.

So it was with perfect timing that I came across this piece by artboy68 (who created the sketch in my previous post). On January 1, 2012 he posted the following as a kick-off to the new year. It was the reminder I needed to keep my eyes forward.

© Scott Hamilton, artboy68

1991:  After spending a long day travelling over unbelievably rough roads and seeing wild Karabair horses running free on the northern Uzbek steppe, I found myself in a strange world walking with a strange man who speaks no English toward the shore of Lake Aldar-Kul, nestled between Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan.  The lake proved to be only waist deep, covered with reeds as far as the eye can see, but produced fish for this camp as large as sharks.

The man’s name was affectionately coined as Kutchkar, which we were told means goat, and his eyes were as kind as his soul, which made it uncommonly easy to communicate even though we shared no common language. He was taking me to share a tradition that was as refreshing in body as it was in the fellowship that resulted:  a mudbath on the shore of the lake, followed by some time in the steam hut, after which a self-inflicted flogging with stinging nettles across the back ensued.  ”For good circulation,” was the implied reasoning.

Seeing me looking down and struggling to walk along the gravel road in my bare feet, Kutchkar touched my arm and pointed to his eyes, then to the horizon ahead.  I understood:  don’t look down.  I straightened up, put my eyes forward and began to walk with confidence.

As unimportant as this little exchange would seem, it has become one of the most memorable moments for me of my time in that place.  Why?  Because that lesson becomes more significant to me as each year passes:  to look straight ahead, and keep your eyes on the destination.  It’s a philosophy I am repeating more and more these days- not to go around the mulberry bush, but go through it.  If you have a specific goal, take the most direct path to it, not wavering to the left or to the right.

Distractions abound; once in a while a potential opportunity might feel golden, only to realize upon closer examination that it’s simply a rabbit trail- a deviation from the ultimate goal or an investment with minimal or no return that will only prolong the journey.  These are moments to consult the map and make sure you’re on the right road.  Not to say that we shouldn’t enjoy the surprises that life can bring;  success in life should certainly include a sense of adventure.  Compromise in the right places, and keep your compass with you.

When setting goals, like so many of us do with each renewal of the passing years, keep it simple.  And remember that nothing is achievable without sacrifice.  I have specific goals for this year, and I know that I won’t reach them without discipline and dedication.  It will take time from other things, and I know there will be times that I will just have to push through doubt, disappointments and multiple failures.  To fail to try is the only sure-fire way to not find your destination.

So when the distractions come, and they will, be firm in your walk.  Don’t stray from the map.  The key is in keeping your eyes forward;  like walking in your bare feet.

© artboy68

http://artboy68.wordpress.com/2012/01/01/keep-your-eyes-forward/

Sunshine sketches

“An artist is someone who makes art.” —David Charles Hamilton

This sketch of my profile picture was prepared by artboy68, a.k.a. Scott Hamilton.

A few months ago he took on the task of creating 100 portraits of people’s profile pictures in 20 weeks. I am number 71, so there are 70 other examples of his sketches available to see at http://artboy68project.wordpress.com/. And check out his painting Torso in 2 Colours. Simply stunning.

 I signed up to receive his posts by email, and I am always intrigued to see the people who come into my Inbox from him. Each person has something on their site that makes me say, “Huh. That’s interesting.”

artboy68 attracts intriguing people.

I get a lot of comments on my profile picture. Traditionalists think I should have a regular “head shot.” A straight-on, by-the-book portrait. People with trust issues think I should have a picture without sunglasses. “I don’t trust people if I can’t see their eyes,” they say.

But I’m not changing my picture for traditionalists with trust issues. First, I just love the picture, and I think it says everything you need to know about me. My husband took the photo. I am looking over my shoulder, smiling and happy. That the picture is taken by someone I love just comes through. And I’m sitting in a baseball diamond in the sunshine holding my dog.

This photo says, “I am loved, I love sports, I love sunshine, and I love dogs.” What else would you need to know?

It came unbidden

At a meeting of the Canadian Authors Association last week, three local authors spoke about book promotions. As the evening progressed JC Sulzenko related the story of how her play (that later became a book) What My Grandma Means to Say came to be. She was in an airplane somewhere over the prairies when the words just flowed out of her pen.

“It came unbidden,” she said.

 As she wrote the scenes, her rational brain tried to intervene. “Put in a narrator,” it proposed, logically. But the ink from the pen just wouldn’t take that shape.

JC described an experience shared by creators over the centuries. Artists like Michelangelo, William Blake and Stephen King all said the work comes through them, not from them.

When I hear artists, writers, poets, or any creator speak about how work comes to them “unbidden,” I pay attention.

And when I look closely at what flows through them, I invariably find that it touches on a life truth in a deep and meaningful way. JC’s play is about a boy who watches his grandmother with Alzheimer’s change from a world traveller and cookie baker to someone who cannot remember his name. For two years JC has been visiting schools, care facilities and festivals sharing the story and encouraging kids and families to talk about a life truth in a deep and meaningful way.

Take some time to notice the next time you hear someone say that a painting, sculpture, story, or poem came unbidden. Look for the life truth, and be grateful that the artist was willing and able to shut out that rational mind long enough to be a channel for something meaningful.

Tune in on Tuesday, January 17, at 1:00 p.m. (EST) to hear JC and Dr. Gordon Atherley discuss how What My Grandma Means to Say, the play and the storybook, can enable family discussions about Alzheimer’s disease and related forms of dementia.   
http://www.voiceamerica.com/episode/58907/what-my-grandma-means-to-say.

Schrödinger’s Cat in 60 seconds

Have you heard about Shrödinger’s cat but never really got what that was all about?

The people at Open University tell the animated tale in 60 seconds. And it’s funny, too.

http://youtu.be/d1tn56vWU_g

Forgetting ourselves

When you do not know what you are doing and what you are doing is the best, that is inspiration.
 —Robert Bresson

What an exciting game.

My son’s team battled hard. The score went back and forth. When his team scored a goal, the other team tied it up. When the other team scored a goal, his team tied it up. In the dying seconds of the game, my son’s team had the puck in the opposition end. They peppered the goalie with shot after shot. The seconds ticked down, but the goalie stopped every puck. Finally, the puck rebounded off his pads out to one of our forwards who flicked the puck past the goalie’s right shoulder. When I glanced at the clock, it showed 0.4 seconds remaining in the game. They won, by that much.

An hour later, I was at a Christmas social. Although I felt perfectly well, I noticed that my throat was hurting. I knew I wasn’t coming down with anything, so I asked myself, “Why is my throat so sore?” I realized that during that exciting hockey finish I must have been screaming my head off.

I could not remember doing this at all.

In the final seconds of the game I was so ”in the moment” that I completely forgot myself. I wondered what other things my body had been doing that I was unaware of during that time. Did I stand up? Wave my arms? Clap? I don’t remember. What did I look like to other people? 

It was like I stepped outside of my body for a time. I was “beside” myself. And it was exhilarating. Even the tense moments before the winning goal felt electric as they crackled with potential. 

Why is it that during some of the best times in our lives, we’re  “beside” ourselves?

When we lose ourselves in an activity we’re passionate about, we forget ourselves and hours pass unnoticed. We’re so inspired that our body goes into auto-pilot while the very essence of ourselves takes over.

What makes you forget yourself? What draws your essence to the surface and sets your body to the side?