Category Archives: j’s lists

Making stuff

Love…

A poem

A painting

A promise

A beautiful love-filled mess

A donkey

A piece of art

A moment

A wish

A memory

Somebody’s whole damn day….
jjj

What will you make today?

jcw

Poetry, pirates and zombie coffee bunnies

A few days ago, a friend wrote to ask me how I was doing and what I was working on. I responded with a big, crazy list that made me feel two things: a) what a fun time this is, and b) holy shit, I better get crackin’.

So… I’m crackin’.

But here’s some cool stuff for you while I’m keeping my nose to the grindstone…

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I added a doodles page to Zebra Sounds! I’m so excited about this. Go, gaze, comment, let your imagination spin out, and if you’re really inspired (or just love me), doodle me a picture!

On a related note, my astonishingly talented friend Pam Carlson is drawing a doodle a day. How great is that? You can see her doodles by following her on Twitter, @pcarlson001. Or you can keep an eye on her here because I keep stealing all my favorites. Like this one…

… and this one (which is a doodle of Pam protecting her “me-time” like a pirate, sword in mouth)…

(Note: There is a doodle love gallery at A Human Thing too, so if you feel like doodling some love, I can give it a good home.)

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This picture, from the amazing Marcie Scudder, delights me.

The next act, a poem by Samantha Reynolds (aka, Bentlily), makes my insides hum.

And this one, untitled, from (birthday girl) Julia Fehrenbacher, is GORGEOUS.

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I could go on and on, but I won’t. I’m supposed to be buckling down. I leave you with this, which I doodled just for you last night.

xo

Getting it up

The thing about creativity is that unless you make a living practicing your art, it’s easy to deprioritize it. (Note: WordPress is saying deprioritize isn’t a word, but I’m sticking to it because WordPress also says that WordPress isn’t a word.)

On the to-do list you might not even have had time to write today, “make something awesome” would likely fall somewhere near the bottom, after “drop off the kids-prescription-dry cleaning-car,” “write the report,” “attend the meeting,” “reassure the boss,” “pick up the the kids-prescription-dry cleaning-car,” “do the laundry” “pay the bills,” “cook, clean, cry, collapse.”

It’s a perfectly understandable, soul-killing decision to NOT make something awesome. But as day after day passes in this frenzied “I have no time for creative badassery” mode, the muscle that creates your art – your wicked imagination – atrophies. It gets harder and harder to get it up.

So to speak.

I don’t want that to happen to you (or me), so I made a list of five ways to sneak back up on our creative natures. These ideas are small, but powerful… like Altoids.

  1. Unplug.
    Even if only for a few minutes each day, unplug your phone, your computer, your TV, your radio, and every device you have that starts with a lower case “i.” Immerse yourself in your physical surroundings. If at all possible, get dirty.
    *
  2. Take a picture.
    I seriously think cameras are magical in their ability to change our perspectives. Don’t believe me? Look at Marcie Scudder’s rainy day, Jen Erbe’s birches, jb’s kitchen table, my picture of stillness…
    *

    And – bonus! – the “make something awesome” goal is built right into this one!
    *
  3. Do something out of character.
    Wear a kilt or a tutu (or, for me, something purple). Publicly display your affection, throw yourself a surprise party, tell someone in no uncertain terms that what they do makes your knees weak, your head spin, your throat dry… and even with all that, you hope they never, ever stop.
    *
  4. Play.
    Alone or with your lover, your crush, your best friend, your kid, your parents, a perfect (or not-so-perfect) stranger. Do something, anything. Just. For. Fun.
    *
  5. Fuck should.
    For a day, an afternoon, an amazing hour of precious freedom, don’t do anything just because you should.

It may be that the awesome thing you make… is you.

xo

In 2012…

I wish for us all to find our footing… not so we can stand, but so we can dance.

I wish for less struggle, less worry, less fear, less apology… to be replaced by straight-from-the-heart, flowing-through-our-veins, proud in-our-skins badassery.

I wish for clarity, wisdom, REM sleep and sweet, sweet dreams.

I wish for moments of sheer, unmitigated, irrational joy. Every day.

I wish for more days that look like this…

I wish for a billion northbound steps.

I wish you luck and grace and beauty, peace and music, poetry and passion… a kiss that makes you forget your name.

I wish for breathing room and fresh starts and acts of astounding creativity and courage…

What are you wishing for in 2012?

It’s not a year-end list

We’re officially in the homestretch of 2011. I’m feeling breathless and badass and awed and a little bit mushy about the year that has passed, and while I could easily write you a year-end list of what I loved or hated or scratched my head over (the republican debates, for example), I won’t. I know how most of you feel about year-end lists. They rank right up there with new years resolutions and karaoke polka.

So instead, in this, my last ZS post of the year, I’m sharing some cool, fun, sexy, liberating, soul-filling ways to spend the last week of your year…

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I love this post from Alexandra Franzen, and her idea to do away with new year’s resolutions in favor of new year’s rituals. I will definitely be inventing some new j-rituals.

On a related note, a few days ago, I was having one of those days that makes you question… well, everything, and not in a good way. In an act of desperate kickass self-reclamation, I sat down and for five minutes I listed all the stuff I could think of that I’ve accomplished this year – from the very intimate to the big and lofty. Without even straining, I listed 38 accomplishments, and 18 of them were things I’ve never done before. By the end I was feeling downright superhero-y. Try it. And try Alexandra’s suggestions. And make up some wild self-affirming rituals of your own. It’s healthier and way more fun than resolutions. I promise.

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There are far worse (and few better) things you could do with the last week of 2011, than spend it honoring the fact that life is short, throwing a rave inside your head, interviewing yourself or remembering why you are not old.

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In a recent post, Chris Guillebeau wrote this: Set aside time to “make stuff.” Honestly, I like the whole post, but that line, all by itself, is golden. Chris was talking about products for his business – new books, new projects, new launches – but I think that line is about how to live your life. I believe creativity is itself an act of faith, and one of the best things you can do for your soul is indulge your creative instincts, whatever they are. Paint, take pictures, write stories, sculpt, make music, make meals, make love.

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And speaking of making stuff, I’ve spent the last week making Christmas gifts. It was nerve-wracking and fraught, what with the hard Christmas morning due date and all, but it was also exhilarating and the most fun I’ve ever had giving gifts on Christmas. To get it all done, I took over the dining room (which rarely gets used for dining), and I wished the entire time that I had a better room for making stuff.

So I’m going to convert the dining room. I can’t do it all in the last week of 2011, but I’m planning for it. Here’s my inspiration. What crazy, inadvisable, inspired bit of magic might you create (or plan to create) in the last week of 2011?

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And here (as promised) are pictures of the gifts I made.

Tile coasters for my mom and one of my oldest friends.

Leather wrist bands for The Boy

Etched and painted glasses for Chad

An “industrial record cabinet” for Dillon

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And finally, as 2011 comes to an end, I want to say how very grateful I am for all of you – your comments, your support, your cards, letters, emails, enthusiasm. Truly, I love you guys. I hope you know how much.

The new site will launch January 16th, and I’ll see you back here before then. Have a fantastic new year, everyone, and let’s rock the hell out of 2012!

xo

What the detox taught me

So, just as I told you I would (in hindsight, perhaps inadvisably), last week I embarked on a one-week Yoga Journal detox program. It involved the same recipe for all my meals, abstinence from caffeine and alcohol, daily prescribed yoga practices, two guided meditations performed four times during the course of the week, early risings to accommodate Ayurvedic abhyanga (self massages with oil) followed by a shower, and all week long, an underlying question to ponder… what do I want to hold onto and what do I want to let go of in my life?

Before I go into what I learned, I have to confess that I lasted only two days on the one-dish-only diet. The dish is called kitchari and consists primarily of rice and secondarily of mung beans. I wasn’t crazy about it, but more importantly, on the diet, I felt very out of control. I had enormous energy swings… and with the fluctuating energy came fluctuating moods. At the end of Day 2, I realized that my overriding emotion was sadness and a terrible sense of futility. Plus, I had headaches. (I totally missed the part in the magazine where it said you should wean yourself from caffeine in the days or weeks prior to starting the detox.) I decided it was time to get off the diet.

For the remainder of the week, I ate small portions of healthy foods and I drank green tea in the morning. I kept up with everything else though, and here’s what I learned…

  1. You (and by you, I mean I) should have a reason for doing something as radical as a detox or cleanse. In the last few months, I’ve eliminated meat from my diet, gotten much more serious about my yoga practice, started meditating, spent more time unplugged and made huge, evolutionary decisions about the direction of my work. I wasn’t feeling out of balance or full-o-toxins. I wanted to do the detox more out of curiosity than anything else, but when push came to shove, curiosity wasn’t enough to keep me on track when the going got tough.
  2. I don’t like being told what to do. I kind of knew this about myself, but it surprised me how… well… resentful I felt. I didn’t like being told when to shower, what to drink, what asana sequences to practice. I spent most of my meditations thinking, “I can’t wait until I can meditate the way I want to.” And then, “Oops, I wonder what she just told me to think about.”
  3. That said, having spent a week being told what to do, it is clear to me that I don’t always know what’s best for me. On Day 7, during my yoga session, I moved reluctantly from one restorative pose to the next. I don’t like resting poses. They stress me out. I lie still and my head fills with all the things I could be doing if I were not lying still. It’s so unpleasant, I almost never do them. And yet… At the end of that practice, for the first time in months, my shoulder and neck were utterly relaxed. I felt a looseness I’ve only been able to get with Vicodin.
  4. I like green tea. I’m still drinking it. I haven’t had a cup of coffee in over a week. Or a chip, for that matter. This can’t last…
  5. The most important thing I learned from the detox was about letting go. It came to me as I made the decision to stop the diet. It was hard for me to let go of the thought that doing so would mean I failed, that I’d have to come back here and write a why-I-failed-at-the-detox-thing post.When I made the decision anyway, deciding that feeling better was worth being embarrassed, it felt right, and weirdly freeing, like stepping out of a costume or putting down a mask. It made me think about other changes I’ve resisted making in my life because they don’t coincide with the definition of myself I’ve had for years, a definition – a costume – that I think I’ve outgrown (if it ever fit at all). I’d love to tell you that right then and there, in that brilliant flash of insight, I dropped the old worn out view of me and leaped -  naked, new and badass – onto a brave new path. Turns out, at least for me, it’s a bit more of a process than that, but I’m definitely heading there, shedding the stuff that doesn’t fit as I go.

The things we just know

In Jack Kornfield’s book on meditation, A Path With Heart, he tells about counseling a woman whose husband had died. The woman and her husband had been active in a number of different spiritual communities, and in the aftermath of his death, members from all of those communities rushed to comfort her. Their words of comfort confused her because, as you might expect, they conflicted with each other.

Kornfield asked her to consider carefully what she actually knew herself to be true. “If she put aside the Tibetan teachings, the Sufi teachings, the Christian mystical teachings and looked in her own being and heart, what did she already know that was so certain that even if Jesus and the Buddha were to sit in the same room and say, ‘No, it’s not,’ she could look them straight in the eye and say, ‘Yes, it is.’”

It’s a powerful idea I think, that there are things we absolutely know to be true, and that maybe those truths are enough to guide us through even the scariest, loneliest, saddest times.

So, of course, I made a list of my truths. Here are four of them…

  1. We are all connected.
  2. At the heart of fearless love lies a willingness to be vulnerable.
  3. Everything changes; the greatest trick of all is knowing when to hold fast and when to let go.
  4. No one looks good in Speedos. (It’s not helpful, but it is true.)

Okay, your turn. What are your truths?

A Girl Of Consequence

When I read Lisa McCray’s beautiful “What I’ve Seen” list, it reminded me of how my love affair with lists began.

I was in third grade the first time I felt my smallness. It was a terrible moment of revelation for me, when the enormity of the world and the limits of my power to influence it became clear simultaneously. I remember distinctly feeling the edges of things, being unnerved and a little terrified by all that I could not control.

In response, I started listing the things that I could do. Silently. While I walked. There was a rhythm to it, a soothing cadence – my steps, my forward motion, my 8-year-old voice inside my head building a staggering list of all that I was capable of. “I can write stories,” I told myself. “I can read grownup books. I can walk fences. I’m good at dodge ball, tether ball, four-square, pickle. I can play chess, keep a secret, win a debate. I can flip my tongue over. I can shuffle cards. I can make up my own mind.”

In a way I couldn’t fully understand at the time, the list (repeated and expanded upon constantly) give me back a sense of control, a sense of accomplishment and self that was especially important then, at an age when girls start getting all kinds of mixed messages. Be strong, but be sweet and agreeable and non-threatening. Be smart, but be quiet and don’t ask too many questions. Be you, but be pretty, be fashionable, fit in. In the midst of external and internal confusion, my list of the things I could do grounded me, reminded me all the time of who I really was – a girl of consequence, fierce, curious and frequently at odds with the people who did exercise control over my world.

I guess I wanted to write this post to honor that girl. May we all always be (and raise) girls and boys of consequence.

Halfway Through A Year Of Fearless Love

It’s July, and I’m officially more than halfway through my year of loving fearlessly. A list is in order!

Things the Love Project has taught me so far…

  1. Love is everywhere. Hate is too. And cynicism, and prejudice, and greed, and cruelty. It’s all out there. In the gigantic, messy spectrum of human experience, ugliness is as easy to find as beauty; rudeness and intolerance as prevalent as kindness and generosity. So maybe the best thing we can do, for ourselves and the world, is make sure our own actions tip the scale toward love.
  2. Love doesn’t happen to us, it happens because of us, because of who we are and what we do. It happens because we make it happen, because we choose it. On any given day, we have the opportunity again and again to choose isolation, withdrawal, anger, fear… or love. Love is untidy. It’s unpredictable. It’s often inconvenient and occasionally terrifying. Love happens, I’m convinced, when we are magnificent and badass enough to make it happen.
  3. The smallest gestures count. At the start of this project, I had an image in my head of a hippie girl plopping flowers into the barrel of a soldier’s gun. I wrestled with the futility of that, with the idea that my love project could be easily dismissed, seen as idealistic at best and frivolous at worst.  But there is power in our efforts at connection. I’ve received the most beautiful comments, messages and emails telling me that it’s not just hearts and minds we’re changing, it’s lives.
  4. Self-love maybe the hardest love of all, but it is the most necessary. I am absolutely, totally, 100 percent convinced that your ability to love others is directly proportional to your ability to love yourself, and no matter how you justify it, selfless love is lesser love. When your well is full, you’re more generous, more open, less full of expectation, less clingy. If I doubted this truth before the Love Project, I don’t now. Love yourself… all else follows that.
  5. Hugs are magical. No doubt about it.
  6. Everybody needs love. Even the cynics. Especially the cynics.
  7. Acting on your most generous, loving impulses, makes you feel generous and loving. It’s freaky.
  8. Sometimes choosing love means choosing to stay – through one more day, one more difficult conversation, one more heartbreak. Other times, it means letting go. Sometimes walking away is the most generous, loving thing we can do.
  9. Heartbreaks are the inevitable downside of living a love-filled life, but they are also the proof that we’re doing it right, that we’re staying open – to experience, to joy, to surprise, to expansion – risking our hearts, daring to leap. Truly living.
  10. Love is GORGEOUS. Don’t believe me? Take a look at the Love Project Scenes page. And making a conscious effort to capture that beauty (with your camera if you have it, and with your heart either way) will change how you see the world. I guarantee it.

The Summery Survey of Sublime Silliness

I’m late getting this post up, so instead of one question, you get 10. (Yeah, I’m not sure about that logic either, but have fun!)

  1. How hot is too hot?
  2. How many pairs of flip-flops do you own?
  3. What’s the best summer drink made from more than one ingredient?
  4. What’s your favorite summer memory?
  5. At the dog park, every year, I see one or two dogs who’ve been shaved for the summer. Obviously, it’s to make them more comfortable, but I can’t ever bring myself to shave my big, frantic, frolicking, fantastically long-haired dogs. Do/would you shave yours?
  6. When was the last time you ran through a sprinkler?
  7. Pretend I’m going on a summer vacation… … … … oops. Sorry. Got carried away on that one. What I meant to ask you was, “What should I bring to read?”
  8. When was the last time you made a pair of jeans into cutoffs?
  9. Don’t you love balconies this time of year? (Yes, the blogger is guiding her witnesses.)
  10. Best 3-song summer playlist?

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Three neato things…

Love, love, love “How Babies Play,” from bentlily.

… and, Juliana Finch’s song, “Anti-Socialize” is hilarious. Listen!

… and “A Sharp Line of Joy Holding Us Together” by Roxane Gay is break-you-open beautiful.