we could be eating something yummy like this, what do you say?
On a housekeeping note, I’m planning a short trip to New York City at the end of next week and wondered if there are any local NY blog readers who might like to have a little MeetUp for coffee and conversation. I have new Wouldn’t it be Awesome dreams floating around in my head, and it would be so nice to discuss them in a real live conversation with you. If that’s appealing to you at all and you’ll be in the city during that time (or if you’d like to send a friend you know would really be energized by that kind of thing), please drop me a line at jen dot lemen at gmail dot com.
Also, thank you so much for your warm response to the post about the ritual for letting go of fear. I was very nervous about posting it (and then leaving it up), but your kind comments erased all hesitation for me about being that honest. If you need just a little bit more encouragement to do a ritual like this, you can participate in Picture This Theme of the Week here. The theme this week is Ritual.
The week between Rosh Hoshanah and Yom Kippur has traditionally been a time of reflection. I’m not Jewish, but I love the rhythm of these two holidays in particular. This year especially I decided (in my own way) to take on that task of looking over my life and discovering the things that have been holding me back–and all the ways I need a greater sense of trust in myself, my dear ones and the Universe in general.
Yesterday was the day for me to put that reflection into action. Read on, if you’re wishing for a tangible way to make plain your desire to open up in a new way to Trust. Here goes!
Pick a quiet place.
Some place with little bits of beauty that call out to you, reminding you it’s safe to be honest here.
Gather leaves from nearby–anything will do.
Write out one by one your fears with a water soluble marker (Bravo is my favorite!)
If fear isn’t exactly the thing for you, you can also write on rocks whatever it is in particular you are holding onto, whatever it is that is weighing you down or getting in the way. To make it easy, I brought along some small smooth stones I had gathered along the Oregon Coast last summer.
What happens next is up to you, but I decided to throw my rocks in the river first. No words, I just threw them as far as I could. Then I gathered up my fear leaves (which were much more precious to me!) and went off to find a good floaty place–I thought about the river, but the water was so still there, I decided to climb out on the rocks to nearby falls instead where the water was really rushing. Follow this advice at your own risk! I had to pass more than one DANGER sign and one concerned old lady before I found my perfect place.
Then–and this part might sound totally crazy–but once I got to the falls, I picked one leaf at time out of my pile and said out loud: Thank you, __________ (insert fear) for doing your best to protect me and keep me safe, but I don’t need you anymore. And then I let my leaf float down the falls.
This was a very powerful exercise for me–I felt truly lighter on the walk back along the trail. Along the way, so many fresh thoughts came into my mind, and especially this question:
How does ____________ (insert action, decision, idea etc.) express TRUST in myself, in others, in the Universe?
I am looking forward to that answer over and over again in the days and weeks to come.
I feel a little shy in sharing this ritual with you, but also very happy to do so–especially if you too have been feeling on the edge of things and have been wondering what you might do to let yourself float into a wide, open fertile place where your dreams can happen.
My house is oh-so-quiet in this midnight hour. Not even that secret visitor our tiny mouse is making a sound as I tap, tap, tap these sentences out to you. Tonight I went with our friends Dawn and Eli to the Regina Spektor show at Ram’s Head in Baltimore–the very first show of her new tour. Words like luminescent and radiant floated through the air like magic as she played the piano, beating out her rhythms on a nearby chair with a stick.
I was struck by how much play is the thing for musicians–that it hardly ever works to try too hard to be the best or to be great or to sing perfectly. That the best shows are the ones where the star shines brightest by letting go and having fun with how everything changes when real live people are present. I imagine after being holed up in your room writing poems to nest nicely inside fresh melodies, that must feel like a miracle.
There’s no video to share from tonight’s performance on YouTube quite yet, but I found another of a song she played tonight called The Ghost of Corporate Future. I liked it so much I had to add it here. May you wake up tomorrow wide awake in the hope that this world is everlasting and that people are just people like you.
an unexpected “heart” found along a trail in Shenandoah National Park
When I was seventeen or eighteen, we had a family friend who had recently lost her husband to suicide. As most suicides go, it was unexpected and devastating. This was a guy who appeared to be more in a slump than an actual depression, and I don’t think anyone ever realized how desperate he was or how determined. In the early weeks after that, it was almost impossible for Catherine* to sleep at night alone in that big bed. She’d go over everything in her mind again and again–the last conversations, the desperate arguments, the final gunshot from the bathroom down the hall. It was too much to hold and not feel your heart crack into a thousand irretrievable pieces.
I don’t remember now how it happened exactly, but at some point it was determined that maybe it would help if our friend didn’t have to go through the nights alone. It seems funny now, to think of farming out your seventeen year old to stave off the grief of young widows, but it made perfect sense at the time, and I didn’t mind at all. Those nights, I’d come over late and we’d drink milk and eat Pepperidge Farm gingerbread cookies like schoolgirls before bed. I don’t remember too much about it, other than lying awake talking late into the night. She told me stories of old boyfriends and how she met her husband, about her college days and all the fun she’d had. I remember thinking how lonely she must be now and how wide the bed must have felt with him gone. Having me there seemed to remind her of the days before that, before everything got complicated and too sad for words.
I know that just me being there to cover over the space in that empty bed really helped Catherine, but the truth is, she was helping me as well–this being *the summer* of the world’s most abusive boyfriend ever. I had so many questions with no answers–problems that no advice could possible address. One night, after listening to the latest episode of disrespect and verbal mangling, Catherine gently asked me: “If someone had a jar of cockroaches and dumped them on your head, what would you do? Would you just sit there? Let them crawl all over you?”
Of course, I wouldn’t, I said, completely grossed out at the thought.
“I think that’s what he’s doing to you with his words. You don’t have to stand there and take it for even one minute.” This was coming from a woman who had had her fair share of cockroaches. If she was saying this now, it must be bad. It took me a whole lot of trauma and maneuvering to eventually take those words to heart, but I did. It was the first step in learning how to internalize some necessary boundaries about how I would or would not be treated. I might have been helping her through the night, but that little story helped me through my life.
Within a year, she met a very nice man, a few years older than she, and not too soon later they were engaged. I always wondered if she loved him really or if he was just the most stable, most solid man on earth, the most unlikely person to leave or die ever. But whatever her feelings, they forged a lovely quiet life together, had a house full of children and a life she never expected. The next fall I went on to college and as our lives drifted off in other directions, we were never friends in quite the same way again, though the bond of shared kindness (and trauma) remained.
Those days feel so faraway in so many ways–it feels like another life. I’m a veritable expert now at keeping myself safe from abusive relationships and cultivating healthy boundaries. Still, there are those moments where I allow some little make-believe cockroach in my head to whisper in my ear some old message that only serves to keep me stuck, maintaining the status quo.
Every now and then, stray sentences like “Who do you think you are?” or “It will never be good enough” or “Some doors simply are not open to you” crawl into my head. Unattended, these little buggers can drive me quietly mad and create a certain approach to my future that I never intended. Do you know what I’m talking about?
I’m learning now, as I began to learn way back then, that simply noticing this phenomenon is sometimes the most powerful thing you can do to get things going in a better direction. That the encouragement of friends can never hurt and that simple things–like hot cups of coffee or gingerbread cookies in bed–are acts of gentleness and kindness that can revive your confidence and remind you that what you know deep down is reliable after all.
It sounds ridiculously simple, but I think there’s something to it. It’s nearly impossible for these little cockroaches to mess with me when I simply pay attention to what’s happening in the powerful light of day.
I hope you’re having a bug-free day, but if not, feel free to use the comments to declare what nagging negative message is trying to chase you around these days. Or better yet! What one kind thing can you do for yourself that just might put that ugly message in a brand new light? I’d love to add it to my list of self-care favorites as I do my own de-bugging today.
from the collection of sayings I wrote on the Oregon coast, 2006
This little square of kindness keeps looking up at me from the desk in my studio. I pick it up and read it now and then before returning it to the piles of paper and art cluttering every once clear and quiet space.
Last week I nearly despaired when my hard drive suddenly crashed, taking along with it several months worth of essays, articles, photos and scanned art. I was preparing my descent into total depression when Meryl bounded into the kitchen to tell me (in excited, whispered tones) that she and Mark wanted to replace my old computer with a new one.
“We want to invest in peace and well-being in the world,” she said, as I hugged her tight. “We can tell you’re just on the cusp of something, and we really want to support you.”
It’s not every day the Universe sends you such an amazing show of kindness and support. I’ve been sitting quietly with this little miracle for days, wondering how to honor this gift. Wondering how to say yes with my life in ways that allow the constant flow of creativity, of kindness, of love. Thinking again and again how grateful I am for all the ways Meryl and Mark love me and by loving me, teach me how to trust that there is indeed more. More hope. More trust. More love.
I have been on the cusp of something for a little while now. I can be scared (which I am often). Or, as I’m learning, I can be aware of just this moment, this very next breath–the place where I take in the grace that I need and the confidence that Love is indeed my home.
Thank you so much for celebrating the ice cream dream with me these last few days. I always have mixed feelings about posting that kind of story, but that will have to be a post for another day! Today I really need to tell you about Jehane Noujaim. First, because her story is one of the most inspirational and compelling I’ve heard recently. And second, because thinking about the fact that I haven’t told you this story yet is actually starting to keep me up at night!
Okay, if you could have just one wish and one wish only, what would it be? Better yet, what if you knew that a thousand of the world’s most innovative thinkers just might back you up if your wish inspired them the way it inspires you? What would you wish then?
Jehane Noujaim recently won the TED Prize which entitles the winner to exactly that: one wish and a serious show of support from the TED community at-large. Her wish? World peace. Before you mistake the lovely Jehane for a beauty contestant, think again. This young photographer and filmmaker is dead serious, and she thinks the first step to achieving world peace is for each one of us to cross the manufactured lines of culture and country. As a filmmaker, she’s convinced that there’s nothing like a story on film to help you begin to see the stranger or a perceived enemy from a completely new perspective, and that that kind of experience is exactly what it takes to help us begin to dissolve our notions about the differences that we assume must keep us apart. (You know a thousand times over how much I dig this kind of stuff!) You can watch the TED talk with Noujaim here.
With the help of the TED community, Noujaim is inviting amateur and professional filmmakers alike to submit five minute videos for Pangea Cinema Day. The selected films will be broadcast around the world in public venues on May 10, 2008. The deadline for submissions is January 15, 2008. I can’t help but wonder what kinds of amazing films might come about with a little collaboration here and there. What story in film would Global Voices tell? Or what about Bloghers Act? Could film be another way to make a difference for maternal health and wellness across the world? And then I am always thinking about Stephanie and my soulsister Claire when it comes to film–these two women could do something amazing I’m sure of it. And KW, I am obligated to remind you that playing around with the video camera is on your list.
Okay, if you’re not hooked yet, hit play on this video–I was completely inspired.
Yesterday we had our wouldn’t-it-be-awesome-if-there-was-free-ice-cream day. I have to say thank you, thank you, thank you so much to those of you who kicked in. We collected $155 and served free ice cream out of the ice cream truck to at least 65 kids in about forty minutes. The kids really could not wrap their minds around the idea that people they had never met had pitched in to give them a treat. In the end, we decided to tell them it was from the Universe which seemed to go over just fine. Check out these smiles.
One of the most fun things for me about this whole experience was figuring out how to make it work with Musa, the ice cream truck guy. I had this vision of the two of us sitting on my porch, making lists, drinking beer and high fiving when we’d come up with the world’s best way to give away free ice cream EVER. I’d have his number in my cell, and he’d have mine, and I’d call him to say we’d just gotten a check from some stranger for some ridiculous amount of money and that the ice cream day was ON and we’d both start whooping it up over the phone. Then after free ice cream was old news he’d come over in the winter to talk when he was bored or thinking about a new job or to tell me something thrilling like his mother was coming from Guinea or that he and his wife had just had a new baby. I’d move junk off a chair and tell him to sit down, tell me everything, and then I’d think of something to say that made him laugh. From the free ice cream to the rest of our lifelong friendship, the whole idea made me so, so happy. Just typing it now still makes me smile.
But things didn’t really unfold the way I imagined. For starters, Musa might have thought I was insane. I told him about the free ice cream idea (with feeling!), invited him over, gave him my cell phone number right away so he could call me later TODAY to figure out a plan! He answered in little half sentences, the way you do when you’re talking to a teacher or trying to be polite or feeling horribly overwhelmed–and then quietly drove away. We had this conversation (me talking, Musa listening) several times over the next few weeks each time with me saying, “I’m SO serious about this!”–my intensity not helping the situation one bit. It also was slightly problematic that I didn’t have the money yet and had no idea how to actually organize something like this.
But after a little while Musa not only decided I was serious, he also recognized I needed direction. One lucky afternoon, he brought over a poster with all the different kinds of ice cream so I could see everything he sold off the truck, and a plan of sorts. He was no longer freaked out by the way I ran down the street chasing after the truck when I wanted to talk to him, and I understood he was probably never leaving that truck for beers or lists on my front porch to be my best friend forever. And we both realized (him early, me late!) than I probably wasn’t going to receive a million dollars to give away ice cream to every child in the county. We would throw this thing together as best as we could and it would be just fine. Having this worked out gave me the courage to ask my neighbors and all of you for the actual cash–even at the last minute!–and we got everything we needed for a perfect afternoon surprise for the kids.
I arrived at school yesterday with $150 in singles and sat on a cooler inside Musa’s truck. Musa worked the window, and I slipped him the singles cone by cone according to plan. No complicated accounting, lists or beer necessary. Madeleine organized the line, spread the word and Anne took pictures. The whole thing was great. After everything was over, I sat on the benches and chatted with the Ethiopian moms who had decided I was very late in inviting them over to my home. I told them they could only come if they pretended to be blind because the mess in my house is about that bad and everybody laughed.
I almost forgot to say good-bye to Musa as I sat there with those ladies making jokes. But he did not forget me. I looked up just in time to see him waving (enthusiastically!) and smiling at me as he drove down the street so happy and glad. I smiled and waved back.
Fall is coming now, and it’s entirely possible I won’t see Musa again for a long time. Then again, I have his cell phone number now, and if I’m very lucky, maybe something exciting will happen (a new job? a better truck?) and he’ll want to come over and tell me in the winter.
I can only hope.
Musa and me, from inside the ice cream truck. More pictures here.
Okay, in case you’re lounging this Labor Day, here’s a few goodies to enjoy along with your beverage of choice.
Stephanie Roberts of Cool People I Know is making a list and checking it twice. Read this post on life lists and start keeping track of what really matters. A perfect exercise for artists and other creatives who want to keep inspiration in clear focus.
You don’t have to be an artist or bookmaker to be completely moved by the lovely images on Two Peas in a Bucket. A simple slideshow for each “book” truly captures the essence of each piece in the Creating Garden. Perfect visual inspiration if you’re feeling stuck and want to think about an old form in a fresh way. Don’t miss this copy of Pride and Prejudice or this delightful Face Swap mini-book.
Everyday artist Kirsty Hall makes a magical drawing on an envelope, places a tiny treasure inside and then seals it. This collection of secrets and art on envelopes is part of The Diary Project, a yearlong focus for Hall who hopes to display the envelopes and their contents in a gallery show. Comment now and with any luck you’ll be one of the happy “members of the public” invited to open the envelopes when the time is right.
Momster-in-Paris Irene Nam recently twittered about artist Natalie Abadzis. A few clicks later I was completely blissed out at NA’s blog Byebye Balloon, an illustration journal with daily line drawings splashed with watercolor. A perfect addition to your everyday travels online.
And last but not least, registration for ArtFest 2008 opens tomorrow. This event is the reported mecca for mixed media artists everywhere, and the organizers expect the event to sell out within days. If you’ve attended ArtFest in the past, feel free to comment and tell the rest of us what all the fuss is about!
tiny bouquet of stray wildflowers and herbs from the yard
At this point, I know I’m posting more than any reasonable human being has time to read, but I’m finding it greatly therapeutic. Thank you, dear blog, for being the place I need to process at the moment!
We plan our lives according to a dream that came to us in our childhood, and we find that life alters our plans. And yet, at the end, from a rare height, we also see that our dream was our fate. It’s just that providence had other ideas as to how we would get there. Destiny plans a different route, or turns the dream around, as if it were a riddle, and fulfills the dream in ways we couldn’t have expected.
Favorite recent video featuring Vusi Mahlasela from TED:
Thanks to everyone who kicked in for our free ice cream day–we’re scheduled for after school on Tuesday, so it’s not too late if you still want to play here.
Here’s hoping your Labor Day weekend is relaxing and calm.
taken by Madeleine under the red hot lights outside at SPUR, a family favorite restaurant in Knysna, South Africa
Coming off the high of an unexpected adventure today, I find myself hunkering down, recovering from all the drama– surrounded by (and consuming) my favorite things. The short list?
a bag of salt and fresh ground pepper krinkle cut Kettle chips
a cold Corona with lots o’ lime (this is what happens when you wimp out and don’t make the rum punch for Labor Day weekend) parrano cheese
a stack of unwatched Netflix, including this one
the Pottery Barn catalog (not because I ever order anything, but because I like to look at the pictures believing that somewhere out there, this kind of blissful matching and perfection exists)
a freshly scrubbed kitchen counter dove chocolates (my “fortune”? go against the grain, oh yeah!)
one lovely candle glowing on the altar
my one true love
a general sense of well-being twitter
and this song
How about you, dear friend? If you tell me your favorite, I won’t tell the others. Promise.
My name is Jen Lemen. I'm messy, hopeful,
enthusiastic and helplessly in love with the idea
that stories can change you and me forever.