Posts from November 2013-November 2014 are part of The Manzanita Project, a joint effort of Kevin Wiseman and me. Each week, I write a post and he draws a sketch (unrelated). We're trying our hand at co-creation.
I thought I'd just snub the whole New Year/post-about-the-New-Year thing, since that would just be so unoriginal. But on the eve of a brand new year, what else could I be meditating on but the closing out of what has been an oft-challenging and trans-formative 365 days and the welcoming in of all things fresh, the chance to reboot? I feel I would somehow be remiss if I didn't pause for a moment, turn and curtsy to the good and bad of 2011 (and it's all good in the long run, isn't it?), and appreciate the sun's rising on 2012.
By the way, this is one of the images that comes up in a Google image search for "2012"
Uhhhh. Yeah.
So anyway, this is what I plan to focus on in the coming year (thought I'd better try to squeeze a little more out of this year if this is to be the last :P ):
~Make financial goals: living within my means and working to generate more income (god I hate that phrase--it's sounds so Rich Dad, Poor Dad (not that I've ever read that book so I really shouldn't judge), possibly even pay down some extra principle on my student loan.
~Continue Writing: the end of 2011 brings good news in that way, what with pieces written and actually submitted. I've finally grown the ovaries needed to start putting my stuff out there :)
~Potty-train Kalil: Ugh. Just the thought. How is a mom supposed to do this with a boy? I'll worry about the complications of making pee-pee with boy parts later, but we really need to start making headway with #2. So far all invitations to do a poopy on the Sesame Street potty chair I bought some time ago have been met with a polite but firm "no, thank you."
~Enjoy my second chance at single life. Of course single life is something different entirely when you're a mom. I certainly don't mean single life in the way I knew it before I got married, but now that I've known married life, I think I can appreciate single life in a different way. It's nice to again be able to explore all the things I want to do with my free time without having to come to a consensus on it with anyone else. When my free time is spent with Kalil, my choices are dictated by what is appropriate and what would be enjoyable for him (as is the case for every parent); it's a small but significant consolation that--when I have to be apart from him--I can spend the time how I choose. (I realize some married folks have mastered the ability to do this and be married at the same time, but I did not)
~Find a nice volunteer opportunity: It's been years since I volunteered anywhere, and talking with a friend yesterday got me thinking about it again. I think I can make a twice-monthly commitment these days; it would certainly be more interesting and rewarding than some of the time I waste online or doing other pointless things.
Um, I think that's a pretty good start. I can add to it a bit though: get reacquainted with my intuition, hear more live music, dance more, read more, exercise more, keep laughing, learn new recipes (and get Kalil to try them), take a real vacation to somewhere far away, learn some video editing, stay in touch, at least flip through all the magazines on my desk, get prints of and frame more pictures.
This isn't too much to ask in the course of a year, is it? It's nothing crazy (except maybe the faraway vacation), just requiring of extremely good time management (nooooooooooooo!).
And hey, this is what I wish for my son, myself, and you in the coming year: continued growth, peace in our hearts and minds, clarity like we've never known, and the exploration of happiness.
Here, let's toast to 2012 with the song nobody understands and which makes most of us want to cry:
Before I went back to school to once-and-for-all finish my bachelor's degree, and continuing for the next 4 years or so, my life was full up with creative people. I was living, at times, with my friends Kelsi and Nicole--a musician and an artist, and later moved in with another roommate, also a musician and founder of her own record label. There were always musicians and artists hanging around or passing through our homes.
And much of that time, I was completely immersed in the English Department at SJSU, which had recently begun to offer an MFA in Creative Writing, so there was a great deal of writing going on there. During those years I attended literary readings, plays, local artists' and musicians' shows, and open mics. And surrounded by all those people's dedication to their respective arts, I found it pretty natural to remain, often, inspired myself. It was a really nice period of my life and one I've missed from time to time.
There were also times when I convinced myself that the last thing I needed to do was to surround myself again with more dreamers like myself. The thing about people who are drawn to the Arts and Humanities is that they really can talk a WHOLE lot of bullshit. We could bullshit and dream and speculate and weave saucy tales all day long, live on subsistance salaries, pray/eek/grit our ways through every month's bills and stop so long to smell the roses, then talk/write/paint about the roses that we don't even notice when they've dried up and winter's come.
What I really needed was balance. I needed to move forward with my adult life and career, yes. But I took it a bit too far and decided to nix the creative elements (and people) from my life entirely. In recent months, I've been happy for any opportunities to welcome inspiration back in.
Which is how I ended up at Rosie McCann's with Kelsi Monday night. I learned (thank you, Facebook) that the band of an old acquaintance of ours from my carefree college years (who used to play at an open mic we frequented) was playing down there, and I thought going would be a nice way to close out the holiday celebrations.
So Timeless, Jonah Johnson's project, is nothing if not inspiring. The group (a revolving kind of collective comprised of Jonah, his sister, and a gang of talented musicians including a brass section) is so full of positive, uplifting energy that even an overcrowded dance floor of people at snooty-ass Santana Row couldn't help but smile and be nice to each other. It probably helps that most of those folks were lured there by So Timeless itself, which tends to attract other positive people, believers in what you put out there coming back to you.
It was really nice to be there with Kelsi, too. I love going to hear music with her because we can dance and talk, but also just listen together, appreciating specific instruments or beats or whatever. The highlight of the night as far as music goes may have been this hip-hop/jazz/soul/r&b group's take on The Cure's "I Will Always Love You," which I really wish I had a recording of.
The highlight of the night apart from the music was the simple act of remembering that creativity and inspiration are ALWAYS there when you are ready to embrace them. I used to associate those days of readings and concerts and the open mic where we met Jonah and bullshitting about all of the above with my youth, time-capsuled off and traded in for more responsible endeavors. But that thought itself is bullshit. I want to live the rest of my life surrounded by inspiring people who aim to put something new out into the world.
We can't all be that way, for sure. Some people were born to appreciate the art that's put into the world and not necessarily create it (sometimes I feel I belong in that category), but surrounding myself with creators enriches even the act of appreciating those creations. When I see the people behind the efforts, learn about what inspires and drives them, and sometimes even get to witness the creating, I think I am more open, less critical; I see and hear things I may not have otherwise.
That also makes me more forgiving of my own efforts and more able to just start. Just START something to see where it may go. When I'm closed off and critical, I'm fearful of even the starting.
So I offer up a toast to Monday's outing, and Kelsi and I have pledged to do these sorts of things more often together--to take our minds off the concerns of parenting and (in her case) marriage for a spell and get back into the realm of creativity. I'm beginning to believe that--if there is anything real about the concept of a Fountain of Youth, the realm of creativity is where it dwells...
Here's a really sweet So Timeless song as a parting gift (gotta wonder why the horns are here when I don't actually hear any in the song, but they are usually actually *playing*, hahaha) :)
I've been thinking I needed to write a recap of the GGA Project--now already 2 weeks in my rear view mirror--before moving on to post on other subjects, but as the time goes on I'm finding my lack of motivation to write that recap is standing in the way of my writing about other things. This is not good! So, as a lazy compromise, I offer this somewhat brief summation:
The GGA Project was, I think, the best thing I knew to do to help me through the past year. Through it I discovered a lot of interesting places and happenings in the area that I wouldn't have sought out otherwise. I ate a crapload of good food and have a dozen new baked goods recipes in my toolbox. I reconnected with old friends, and tried new fun forms of exercise as well as new torturous ones. And, simply, I re-learned to focus on all the promise of joy out there in the world.
This last part was huge.
I'm not exactly sure when I stopped paying attention, where along the way I learned to put out of my mind the fact that my life is a fleetingly brief smidge bit time in the overall sense--the equivalent of a cameo appearance in movie that lasts 2 decades. When I lost sight of that, I was the worst version of myself I'd ever known: the version that stopped believing in wonder and dreams and the happiness that comes when I am truly, fully open to life's offerings. I settled for what I could see and touch right in front of me and decided to ignore all that could be, even all that I'd already known was.
But somehow, through no particular series of events or logical causal relationship, the GGA Project snapped me out of it. For that, I will be forever thankful that I chose to spend 365 days of my life in that way. I have emerged, yes, divorced--but rather than bitter and discouraged, I am hopeful and renewed. I am once again joyful.
I'm not trying to say my life is one big happy ball of fun. I have my down times for sure. And I have my setbacks and insecurities and mournful, broken-hearted moments too. But they do pass. They are to be felt realistically and embraced, because fully alive, sentient beings do experience pain. And those moments are to be appreciated for the brilliance with which the coming, brighter days will shine in comparison.
A few weeks ago an elderly regular customer at the bank came to my window, and we started chatting about the Indian restaurant he owns up in The City. He knows I've never been there, so he started telling me about it, and this was the detail he chose to share about the restaurant's interior: "There are over a million hearts on the walls of the dining room," he said. "I've drawn most of them myself." He picked up the pen sitting on the counter, asked for a piece of paper, and drew a single heart at the top. "I might start like this," he said. "And then I look at that and think, 'that's no good. I can do better.'" And with that, he drew a second heart around the first.
He kept going while I printed out the cashier's check he needed and completed his other transactions, which have faded to the background of non-memorable parts of that encounter.
By the time I finished, he'd created this, which he signed and dated and asked me to hold onto, "until he becomes famous," he said, with a wink:
It's on my wall above my desk. And here's why: I think my own heart is like his must be. My heart is full of love-to-give such that I could easily picture myself handing out heart-filled doodles to near-strangers in banks. It seems elderly men can pull this move off a little better than those in other segments of the population, so I'll hold off on that, but I loved experiencing that recognition--a kindred spirit and hopeful soul. The man's face was pure serenity and wisdom, and I thought: this is why you keep moving forward, keep opening yourself up to life and love and joy--so that everywhere you roam, you embody and spread peace and are the bright spot in the monotony of a bank teller's (of an anybody's) day.
That is where 80 years' worth of that kind of living takes you.
I will look at that little piece of paper and it will bring me hope when I'm discouraged and calm when I'm full of anxiety. The single upside-down heart is, I think, a nice touch as well. It's a reminder of variations on the theme, maybe even of design flaws or production failures. It's the phase in a person's life that didn't go according to plan, but which made an equal contribution to that life's perfection--perhaps a more interesting (certainly more character-building) contribution than all the years that did pass smoothly, unremarkably.
I know that upside-down heart phase now too, and in a way I know I'll never be able to fully put words to, I'm thankful for it.
I want to give a huge thank you to everyone who has followed my project and supported my efforts to end up in a much different, much better place now than I was a year ago. I have leaned heavily on many shoulders for support, and all of those shoulders have proven strong enough to carry me but soft enough to offer comfort.
To my family and my chosen family-of-friends, I wish you a Merry Christmas and a New Year full of inspiration and the energy to follow through on it. I wish you both smooth sailing and enriching, stormy seas. And, as always, I wish you joy.
So with that, I'm officially laying the GGA Project to rest and moving on. I hope you'll keep reading as I share all that inspires along the way...
