Imagining things

This today from a blog I loved and lost, and found again.

“The term “imagination” in what I take to be its truest sense refers to a mental faculty that some people have used and thought about with the utmost seriousness. The sense of the verb “to imagine” contains the full richness of the verb “to see”. To imagine is to see most clearly, familiarly and understandingly with the eyes. But also, to see inwardly with the minds eye. It is to see not passively, but with a force of vision, and even with a visionary force.”  Wendell Berry

Ahhhhhhh.

What struck me was the power behind these words. The feeling that to be imagining, to be using imagination is to be truly DOING something… and not just any old thing either, something important.

So often, I think, imagination is used as some sort of opposition to doing.

This wondrous quote sort of turns that on its head, and returns pride to it.

 

Me? I am busy doing important work.

I am IMAGINING THINGS.

 

 

Everyday creativity

Here I am, listening to Miles Davis, trying to suss out a tangle of notes from a client project…  If you were to look from the outside, you’d see me hunched (horribly) over my keyboard, tea gone cold in my mug, my brain following paths looking for the ease that indicates the ah ha that moves my work forward….

but I am also “gathering”

When I look up past my screen, I am noticing things like icicles, strong shadows from the pines on the snow in a sunny moment, the way a snow squall softens a hillside into a whisper of a line, almost a gesture…

But also, I stumbled on music I had not listened to in a while and am finding a resonance there too– a familiarity but with the surprise of joy attached. This was Miles before he distilled his own essence down to one note. This was Miles when he played like I like laughing…  and some part of me is being fed by this too, I can feel it.

Some truth from Alan Watts

This is a question I often ask, but just as often forget to answer.

Gratitude

In our busy lives, it is so hard to carve out time, even small bits, to explore our own edges, to push our boundaries, to try new things.

It is hard sometimes to find time to do the things we already know we love!

Thank you to everyone who took part in the Campfire workshop this past weekend. It was filled with unexpected moments and surprising joys, unanticipated logistical challenges, LOTS and lots and lots of snow… and seemed to go by too quickly.

There was so much more I wanted to do! So much more I wanted to try!  So, yes, I’ll be hosting another workshop here, but maybe in a pared down 1-day version.  I’d love to hear from you about what would work best for you!

In other news, I’ve got exciting new retreat information up on the retreat page. Space will be limited, so if you want to be first to know as details are firmed up, please sign up for the retreat contact list.

Campfire: Closing Campfire

This weekend was about allowing ourselves to be brave, in small ways, by taking ourselves out of our comfort zones of known behaviors, of known skills, of known territory. This was about exploration, and serendipity, about happy accidents, and stolen moments. This, for me, was about strong tea and gluten free cupcakes, waist-high snow and a snowed-in toddler. It was about flexibility and patience, and about learning just how much more room there is for me to explore those qualities in myself!

Trying new things as adults is not common– we so often do what we do, go where we go, play what we play.  This weekend was about taking the small and deliberate risk to be new again, to be a beginner and to enjoy what it means to be brand new at something, experiencing it for the first time.

I am so grateful for your companionship, for your bravery, for your tenacity and sense of play. I am so glad that you took this opportunity to give yourself permission to try that software, that tree tapping, that painting, that new way of being.

I’ll sign off for now, but not before saying thank you so, so much for joining me! I hope I’ll see you here again. (If you’re not already on my mailing list, I’d love it if you’d sign up— and also find me on facebook.)

Campfire: Shoulds and Self-Compassion

I am not sure anything is more beautiful than long shadows on snow.  The sky is an insane blue today, so clear, and the sun is low but warm. And I have needed to *make myself pay attention*, get out of my own way, notice the beauty that is right there, right outside my window.

I am trying hard not to feel pulled down by my shoulds.

Should be able to make the time to try the pastels like I said I would.

Should be able to figure out how to combine my new 3 chords into a song before the campfire is over.

Should be able to make space for creativity.

The fact is, shoulds seize me up and make me rigid and fragile. I lose my flow, my flexibility, and my joy.  Does this happen to you too?

I get caught up in the current of self talk and resistance, and miss the opportunities that DO arise.

We’re mid way through the second day of this workshop. Maybe you’ve had time to do some exploration, maybe not. Maybe you have stumbled on some new things simply by being open to the idea, even if you did not have a plan, or even if you thought you did not have room. Maybe you had a plan, and then ate loads of cookies instead and read Harry Potter.

This I know: Eschew the shoulds and should’ves.  They’ll suck your life force, your creative force, your ability to see opportunities, your ability to adapt….

Shoulds are like driving looking in the rear view mirror, looking for what could have been, not what could be. Not a great way to navigate!

So, here’s an invitation as we move through the afternoon toward closing campfire (around 7 ET):  Be open.

Just that, be open to opportunities. Don’t get mired in what you meant to do or what you hoped to do, or what you expected to do. Give yourself some room to see what happens! I’ll try too!

Campfire: Perspective

Starting this morning with a breath.

Snow is sparkling through the air.

Yes, there is so much to do today for so many people. So much shoveling. So much to get ready for the week. For those of you feeling there is too much to do to really delve into this, I have an invitation to extend:

As we look toward today,  there are a lot of opportunities to just shift your perspective slightly. Use your non-dominant hand to brush your teeth. Put your pants on, other leg first. Let your brain and body feel what it is like to do something different.

Today may be more about building on yesterday’s surprising Ukelele encounter (I did not see it coming, in my planning mind, I was all about trying new things on the guitar)– now I am curious about learning three chords. Just three. Then maybe see what other room there is for other new things.

For me, these workshops are not often about sustained effort and immersion, but more about a patchwork of stolen moments.

How about you? What do you think you might try today?

See if you can give yourself permission to try a new perspective, even if you don’t have much time to try something new.

I’ll be back with a post at 1:00 ET!

Campfire: Evening light

Between this site and Facebook, we have folks chiming in from New Hampshire, Maine, Alberta,  Ontario and Washington State. We even have someone along for the journey from England!  I am so happy to hear from you- I love the feeling of shared intention, and the experience of knowing other folks are out there exploring this topic of trying new things or familiar things under new and unfamiliar circumstances.

So, as the day wraps up, I want to talk for a moment about self-stories.

Self stories are the often limiting but not very often supportive stories we tell ourselves (or heard from others when we were small) that keep us from exploring or pushing the edges our current capabilities, our current interests, our current selves.

They are about what we are good or bad at, what we are like, our personalities, our proclivities.  They may or may not be based on reality.

These stories can feel so familiar and so definite, but life isn’t.  We aren’t.  What if we left ourselves some room in the margins of our stories for evolution? What if we might not have been adept at something once upon a time, but what if we might become adept with a little bravery, a little COURAGE, and a little practice?

Hearing music-ish stuff come out of that ukelele earlier today brought me pure joy. It did. I would *never* have imagined I could make something other than droney badness happen with that instrument. I am still thoroughly ensconced in the land of suck, but still, my progress made me happy. My progress makes me happy.

A million times I have told myself that I want to be able to play an instrument. But I said that as if the only way it was ever going to happen is if someday I woke up and miraculously knew how. I did not imagine, could not imagine, that I could simply try. I could begin at the beginning, and I could learn.

Oddly, I pride myself on being a “life long learner”– but this prideful piece of my identity/self story appears to have been limited to comfortable, non-risky incremental lessons that build on what I already know. Or, things that did not impact my own perception of myself somehow.

So, here you go brain, here you go heart. Check this out: I’m a beginner.  I began at the beginning.  I am beginning by making noise.  By not being great.

***

What about you? What self stories were you exploring today? Which ones will you explore tomorrow?

If you’re a journaling sort, I invite you to reflect on your day. This includes a direct look at any avoidance you experienced.  There is a lot to learn from avoidance, isn’t there? What felt like it was at risk? For some of us, when we really look at it, maybe not so much! But others of you, some in particular I am holding in love this day, the risk might be very big.  Go gently.  Be kind to yourself.  Decide what you think you might try tomorrow.

I’ll be back with a post at around 9am.

Campfire: Fantasy vs Reality

Fantasy:  I retire to my well-lighted, warm studio with high ceilings, where I also have a comfy chair or two, and a well-stocked fridge. And a tea kettle.  I do my work (yoga, paint, write) to the sound of music or birds or silence. I have enough of whatever I need: time, space, energy, stuff.

Reality: Ha.

I have a very powerful self story: “I am not musically inclined”.  I hear myself sing off key (but now, with a little one, I sing anyway). I have never learned to read music. Never learned to play an instrument.  So I am learning, in sporadic 30 second intervals, to play guitar. I’ve been practicing a few scales, and today I wanted to really try to BEGIN to learn to strum.

The universe had other plans:

The video I was watching is from youtube, thankyouverymuch uketricks. You seriously rock. The last strumming pattern? CALYPSO!

***

How about you? Are you finding it hard to carve out any time at all (even 30 seconds) to try something new?

I encourage you to try, just for 30 seconds, or 2 minutes, try something that you have been avoiding, or that you are afraid you will be bad at… allow yourself to be where you are.  Try, then try again later or tomorrow.  See what unfolds in the interim. Effort, then space, seems to be the magical combination for me.

I’d love to hear how things are going! Feel free to be anonymous if you wish, or if you are feeling bolder, links to websites, videos, whatever are perfectly welcome!

I’ll be back at 7 tonight. Hope to see you here!