Posts Tagged ‘creative living’
Cindy on March 6th, 2010
Seat yourself next to your joy.” — Rumi
We all have to start somewhere. Truth is, the beginning is often the hardest part of any worthy project, whether we’re talking about writing books, designing clothes, breaking a habit, or plotting a garden. Before we can meet a deadline or plant the first seed, we have to face the proverbial blank page or fallow field.
So what the heck is stopping us?
Always a good excuse: kids to raise; dogs to walk; bathrooms to scrub; naps to take; debts to pay; day jobs that wring us dry. Fear can be a factor, too — fear of failure or fear of success. Maybe we can’t top the last amazing thing we did. Maybe our friends and families will resent our attempts to bloom or grow or shine (as if there’s never enough good stuff to pass around the table). Maybe someone will point out our mistakes and try to shrink us back down to size. Or maybe we’ll have to break free from the sweet safety of an old comfort zone.
Rumi’s poem challenges us to forget the excuses — and to weed the naysayers from our gardens. We’re called to do what makes us happy. To wake up and begin, right now. – CL
BEGIN
By Jalal al-Din Rumi; translation by Coleman Barks
This is now. Now is. Don’t
postpone till then. Spend
the spark of iron on stone.
Sit at the head of the table;
dip your spoon in the bowl.
Seat yourself next to your joy
and have your awakened soul
pour wine. Branches in the
spring wind, easy dance of
jasmine and cypress. Cloth
for green robes has been cut
from pure absence. You’re
the tailor, settled among his
shop goods, quietly sewing.
–Reprinted from The Soul of Rumi, translation by Coleman Barks (HarperCollins); 2001
– Garden photo by Cindy La Ferle –
Cindy on February 19th, 2010
Make music of what you can.” — Charles Rafferty
I always knew I wanted to be a writer. When I was a kid, I perched in the gnarly apple tree in my backyard and scribbled my own adventures in a ruled notebook. In college I majored in English and journalism, but it took years before I found the courage (not to mention the income) I needed to begin a real writing career.
The long path that led me here was marked with detours and littered with excuses. The poem below is the wake-up call I needed 25 years ago — but Charles Rafferty hadn’t written it yet. Today I keep it in my back pocket and read it whenever I need a creative kick in the pants.
What dream would you launch if you had all the time in the world? Where would you travel if you knew the road was wide open? What’s fueling your hesitation? –CL
Against Hesitation
By Charles Rafferty
If you stare at it long enough
the mountain becomes unclimbable.
Tally it up. How much time have you spent
waiting for the soup to cool?
Icicles hang from January gutters
only as long as they can. Fingers pause
above piano keys for the chord
that will not form. Slam them down
I say. Make music of what you can.
Some people stop at the wrong corner
and waste a dozen years hoping
for directions. I can’t be them.
Tell every girl I’ve ever known
I’m coming to break her door down,
that my teeth will clench
the simple flower I only knew
not to give … Ah, how long did I stand
beneath the eaves believing the storm
would stop? It never did.
And there is lightning in me still.
Reprinted from A Less Fabulous Infinity, by Charles Rafferty (Louisiana Literature Press; 2006)
–Photo: detail from a mixed-media collage by Cindy La Ferle –
This post is part of a weekly series of poetry appreciation. To read more, please click on âPoems to inspireâ in the CATEGORIES column at right. I welcome your recommendations, too.
Cindy on February 15th, 2010
Enjoy a tiny adventurous moment close to home. It changes your perspective, reminding you that the world is deep and rich and full of color and miracles.” –SARK
A lot of us are stumbling over creative blocks lately. Those who live in the wintry Midwest and Northeast blame it on lack of sunshine. Or cabin fever. Even if things are going reasonably well in other areas of our lives, we might gaze out our windows at the icy moonscape that once bloomed with roses or black-eyed Susans and feel twinges of ennui, or even despair.
Whatever the cause, it’s hard to get inspired when you’re sluggish and blue.
Last month I tripped over a huge creative block and hit a wall. For starters, what began as a satisfying home renovation project was abruptly stalled by a carpet order gone wrong, thanks to the evil Home Depot. (As a result, our master bedroom stayed torn apart for weeks.) Meanwhile, my elderly mom’s dementia-related health problems took a turn for the worse, requiring several trips to her doctor — and the hospital — for tests. As her sole caregiver, I felt helpless and exhausted.
Worst of all, I couldn’t seem to write or talk my way out of any of it. It was time to work from another side of my brain. Time to shift creative gears and to make something tangible and fun.
Bead therapy
Just in time, I received a clothing catalog featuring one of the coolest fetish necklaces I’d ever seen. Strung with African trading beads, brass trinkets, and a wild collection of charms, it evoked long walks on Caribbean beaches and cabana cocktails under the stars. A summer-fantasy vacation on a string!
I was tempted to pull out my credit card and purchase the fetish necklace online or over the phone. Instead, I decided to treat myself to the pure fun of making it myself.
Things were slow at the local craft store when I arrived on a gray Wednesday afternoon with the catalog photo in hand. The salesclerk working in the bead section was just as intrigued by the necklace, and eager to help with the project. Taking my time, I chose a few imported beads that had special meaning to me: a wooden bead with a butterfly motif (symbolizing transformation); another with a Celtic spiral; others that simply caught my eye.
At home I played with the beads until they became a necklace, stringing them together one by one and finding myself in a sunnier frame of mind. Of course, our master bedroom was still in chaos, beyond my control. And my mother’s dementia-related “episodes” were still unresolved. Regardless, I’d made something cheerful and new. The necklace wasn’t exactly like the one in the catalog — but I’d made it my own.
I often tell my workshop students that writing an essay or a chapter is a bit like stringing beads to form a beautiful necklace. Like the right bead, each word or sentence must do its share of the work to bring meaning or sparkle to the whole piece. You need to take your time, choose carefully, and take pleasure in the process.
That said, no matter what you’re working on, you could find yourself getting tangled up in “the process” at some point. When that happens, it helps to take a break. Or try making yourself a real necklace. – Cindy La Ferle
– Fetish necklace in photos by Cindy La Ferle –
Cindy on January 6th, 2009
The key question isn’t “What fosters creativity?” But it is, why in God’s name isn’t everyone creative? Where was the human potential lost? How was it crippled? I think therefore a good question might be not why do people create — but why do people not create or innovate? — Abraham Maslow
Lately I’ve been feeling stuck, burned out, immobilized. And it’s not just because I’m worried about the so-called print media crisis. I’ve been working long enough to know that periods of fallow time are part and parcel of the writing life. I know that all writers go through days or weeks when the work feels off, or never good enough — when self-doubt is a faithful office companion. And I know that it passes soon enough.
In her new book, Stuck: Why We Can’t (or Won’t) Move On, Anneli Rufus talks about why so many of us struggle to make necessary career changes when we know it’s time to move on. Or why we can’t seem to mend relationships that aren’t working. She details some of the things that keep us stalled — living in the past; holding grudges; the need for instant gratification; bad habits; perfectionism; consumerism. I recognize my “stuckness” in many of Rufus’s pages.
Thankfully, I’ve learned over the years that my best antidote to writer’s block is focusing on different creative projects that have little or nothing to do with writing or publishing. Cooking a beautiful meal, for one example, satisfies my need to work with my hands and to offer something that will nourish others.
But I’ve found my greatest satisfaction working on mixed-media collage or constructions in the art studio upstairs. This art form requires that you use “found objects” or whatever else you have at hand — sort of like rustling up dinner from the pantry when you haven’t had time to grocery shop. It’s imaginative and messy and challenging. (The piece of art shown in the photo above is an example of mixed-media construction, recently created by my husband Douglas.)
When my life feels like a series of disparate parts that don’t make sense, mixed-media collage is also wonderfully therapeutic. Crafting a collage, like writing an essay, requires that I look at my world in new ways. I hunt for beauty in places I’ve overlooked before: tool boxes; hardware stores; the recycle bins in my garage. I’m compelled to hunt for possibilities in thrift shops and my own junk drawers. Every object is sacred in the mystical-ordinary sense, and even junk mail is worth a second look. Everything has a story waiting to be told — not necessarily in words, but in shape, form, texture and color.
I’ve been writing steadily and professionally for nearly 30 years, and I don’t imagine that I’d ever stop altogether. Keeping a journal and posting these essays is my way of making sense of the world. But this year it’s likely that I’ll devote more time to artwork and look for new ways to explore my creativity. Shifting the balance feels a little risky now (change always does) but that’s what makes midlife fresh and exciting. This could be the year I take the leap — and get unstuck. — Cindy La Ferle
– Original artwork, “Dad’s Younger Brother,” by Douglas La Ferle –
We all have to start somewhere. Truth is, the beginning is often the hardest part of any worthy project, whether we’re talking about writing books, designing clothes, breaking a habit, or plotting a garden. Before we can meet a deadline or plant the first seed, we have to face the proverbial blank page or fallow field.
