Effervescent Pearls

For the last thirty-seven point twenty-six minutes, you’ve been staring at a flashing cursor on your barren page. You’ve been mixing paint because the gesso on your canvas won’t “speak.” You’ve decided that today is a good day to just do scales on the piano. In about ten more minutes, you’ll bang your head on the desktop/easel/bench and question how you could call yourself an ‘artist.’ Ten more, and you’ll debate the wondrous attributes of a 9-5 job. There’s a supernova-sized hole where your inspiration used to live, and even an apropos band (Muse) won’t bring it back.

Sound familiar? If it doesn’t, I say to you: stop lying to yourself.

We creatives have our moments of impotency, and then we scramble for the Viagra of inspiration. Sometimes, it amounts to an intricate dance before the gods of passion. Sometimes, we seek out companionship. Sometimes, we try every trick and still go back to bang our head some more.

Last night, I was smacked in the face with a burning desire to create. If you haven’t heard or seen it yet, check out the underrated flick, Begin Again with Mark Ruffalo, Kiera Knightley, and Adam Levine. You’ll thank me later. In it, Ruffalo plays a worn and wrung out music producer about two drinks shy of the gutter. He stumbles upon Knightley playing, to her chagrin and her friend’s begging, her song at an open mic night. The rest is their journey to make an album in the great outdoors of the city. But the theme that wowed me was the beautiful dialogue of the difference between those that do music for creation’s sake and those who do music for glory. Those who create for creation’s sake can make nothing yet live fulfilled. Those who seek out glory will never be satisfied, no matter the wealth.

It also showed how, when you are focused on the creating, you can find beauty in the mundane. Granted, Ruffalo’s character related it to music. Dan (Ruffalo) and Greta (Knightley) had just walked around NYC with a playlist, a splitter, and two sets of headphones. As they are taking the world in by soundtrack, he says, “One of the most banal scenes is suddenly invested with so much meaning! All these banalities - They're suddenly turned into these... these beautiful, effervescent pearls. From Music.” Gah! I love that. I love it even more when I consider the truth he’s sharing really applies to creating, as a whole.

As artists, that is what we do. We take two people sitting quietly at a table and turn it into art. He’s on his phone, his body turned sideways like he’s already left. She’s leaning forward, arms wrapped protectively around herself, head bowed. One drop hits the table, and she quickly covers it with her arms, the shame of discovery too great.

That’s creativity. We creep into humanity, ask questions, and make the “banalities” of life interesting…because we come to realize there is nothing banal about it at all.

Still not inspired? Why not take a cue from the movie characters? Grab a pair of headphones and a phone loaded with a playlist. Instead of letting the music be your background noise, or (as I often do) instead of singing loudly, explore the world around you to the soundtrack that is your moment. You film creatives, notice how the wind swirls the leaves in front of you, landing at last on the feet of someone homeless. You painters, what movement do you see for the first time? Can you count the shades of green in the tree-lined streets? You fellow writers, what human interaction do you uncover and what does the body language say (sometimes hearing the actual words gets in the way of noticing that)?

There is inspiration all around us because there is humanity and the not-so-banal everywhere. I’ve got one foot out the door already, eager to find my “effervescent pearl.”

Comment to this post and share your pearl!

Cited:
Begin Again. Directed by John Carney, performances by Keira Knightley, Mark Ruffalo, and Adam Levine, Sycamore Pictures, 2014.

Creative Connections

Let’s face it; making friends as children is so much easier. Kids are thrown together into classes and activities, meet neighbors while playing in the front yard, and, often, don’t have prejudices to make the initial connection awkward. If they both love soccer, they’ve made a new best friend.

Adults, however, have a harder time finding lasting relationships. Our guards are already up, we analyze everything in an attempt to pick out any subliminal negativity, and our conversations tend toward generalities that don’t reveal true friendship potential. Worse, we are ever afraid of giving off a needy vibe, so we hide a part of ourselves.

This is especially true if you relocate to a new state.

Back in 2016, I’d spent two years in the Pacific Northwest, struggling in vain to develop relationships. Oh, people were friendly enough. I just couldn’t connect beyond a flimsy surface level. Further, the area I’m in is highly technology/science driven. We are the land of software mega-corporations, online moguls, and a gamer’s paradise. In comparison, my artsy background wields a Mount Rainier-sized disparity. Dinner parties I’d attend would inevitably turn towards coding and I’d be floundering on the side-lines alone.

The minute this changed was the moment I became brave enough to change it.

I’d toyed with the idea of joining a Meet Up group for months. But the idea of leaving the house to face a group of strangers – strangers who all knew each other, mind you – was so intimidating for this borderline introvert. However, desperate to meet a fellow creative, I finally went. There, I found fellow authors who are working toward the same goals, who understand my artistic nature, who challenge me to grow, and encourage me where I am. Before long, one of them thanked me for staying after and chatting with another member. “These Wednesdays have become very special and important to us,” she said. Little did she know how true that already was for me.

Looking for fellow creatives? Connection is out there waiting for you, no matter where you live or what your interest.

If you are looking to develop new relationships, try an organized group like Meet Up. It is easy enough to search by topic. Find one that sounds interesting and try it. If it doesn’t sit well, try another. Or, start a group of your own. I joined another writer’s group that was closer to home. The host had to close it before it even started, but was overwhelmed with the sheer number of people interested. Have a thing for blues jazz? Try starting a group that goes to venues with live music. Want a quilting community or discussions about the newest erotica novel? You might be surprised how many are just like you, and are searching for a place to connect.

Of course, you won’t find a group where everyone agrees on everything. We are still talking about people, after all. But if you only hang around others who think exactly like you, how will you ever grow? There are some in my group that have vastly different opinions than mine. There are one or two that grate my nerves a little. But I take the beauty and let go of the rest, and find true companionship where we all see eye to eye: good writing.

Comment below with your suggestions on connecting with other creatives!

Why I write

I recently re-watched the movie The Holiday (good flick, if you haven’t seen it) and there is this scene that I love. An older gent, Arthur, is receiving an award for lifetime achievement in screenwriting and he doesn’t want to go because he thinks maybe 15 will come to hear him speak. When he gets there, though, he enters the auditorium to a standing-room-only crowd, all cheering. He had no idea what kind of impact he’d made in his field. People’s lives were changed by his work, his ethic, and his love for Hollywood.

I remember the gut-wrenching tears I felt in the moment Arthur entered and he saw the packed house. Why? Because I thought, “That is what I want.” I have this innate, deep longing to impact people – so much so that I often beat myself up over it, thinking the sheer fervency must mean it’s bad. Equally, all my life, I’ve loved and been moved by words. I collect quotes like Heffner collects women, read to discover that one beautifully eloquent sentence, and constantly hear the great lines in a movie more than I remember the actors or scenery. I write because I want to create something that makes others feel what I feel for words. I write because, after wasting too many years thinking to be artistic is to be less, I finally realized that ignoring the creative in me is the equivalent of turning myself into an emotional quadriplegic. I write to give voice to emotions and situations that confound me, bother me, excite me, humor me, wound me, so that others can read and realize they are not alone. Creating is the best me. I’m far more eloquent on paper – either in ink or with paint. If I am to ever fill the massive need I possess to impact people, my best hope is in creating. So, I need readers to consume my creations and, hopefully, get a glimpse of wonder, beauty, community, or ignited purpose. No small task, I know, but the only one I know that makes me come alive.

Leave a Mark

Every morning, I pass a construction site on my way to work. Traffic around the site is always beastly. Half a dozen mammoth dump trucks are usually lined up to turn left into the chaos. Sometimes, we wait endless minutes for them to exit and enter. The construction also creates a lane closure, bottle necking traffic. I could probably go another way and it would be faster. Given my short fuse for traffic and frustrating drivers, I’d be better off with the detour even if it weren’t faster.

But I suffer the mayhem for Felicity.

Felicity is the flagger who works the morning rush. And, in the bitter Seattle cold, in sun or rain, she always – always! – smiles and waves at each passing car. She’s the long lost friend who celebrates a reunion, the Buddy the Elf when he hears Santa is coming. Her joy is uncontainable and real. You can see the smile in her eyes, not just her actions.

Felicity reminds me that attitude is everything.

When you think about the job of flagger, you don’t naturally envision a wonderful career. Besides the weather, you are inhaling car fumes and getting covered in dust all day. And lets not forget the port-o-potty facilities. Just the thought makes my skin crawl. But instead of dwelling on the negative, Felicity sees her position as opportunity to greet the day, and each passing vehicle, with her own ray of sunshine.

By watching her, I’ve learned that, with the right attitude, even the grittiest jobs become enjoyable. I’ve practiced this philosophy, and do you know what I’ve discovered? When I’m dwelling on the positive, the task I was dreading goes faster and easier. I learn and grow, and – God forbid! – I have fun! Best of all, positivity is contagious. It softens hearts, builds comradery, and leaves a mark.

She is a reminder that, no matter how badly your life is going, there’s always someone else in a worse position. And you never know just how much you might make their day, might raise their spirits, by opting for positivity. Every morning, Felicity raises my spirits for the workday ahead, and gives me a jolt of happiness with which to face its challenges. Wouldn’t it be great if more people were like that?

 The world could use a few more Felicitys.

Fodder of Life

Life. It is its own person, interacting with you in a diverse spectrum of emotional ways. It comforts, it replenishes, it annoys, it devastates. It beats you down and lifts you up.

This has never been more true for me than the past couple of weeks.

Recently, I accomplished one of my life-long dreams. I’m an avid learner, but have had an uphill battle finishing my degree. It’s not because I’ve had difficulty with the material. It was a lack of vision as to what degree to get. Because of horrible advice early on, I stumbled around avoiding the arts, and dually missing my passion. I’m ashamed of how long it’s taken to gain clarity. Don’t get me wrong; all those wrong turns have sculpted me and taught me. But how I wish that could have happened while I was also doing what I love.

On October 17th, though, I turned in my final assignment, and became the first person in my family to ever finish a four-year degree. In that moment, Life threw me up into the air like a father with his child, and I was giddy, weightless, slightly terrified but in awe.

A few days later, Life smacked me into the ground. Not just knocked me out of the air; Life threw me onto the pavement like The Hulk with Loki, then ground its heel into my temple. Migraines raged and made movement challenging, let alone functioning within my little world. All the while, members of my family and co-workers were bogged down with colds and fevers, and I was desperately fighting from getting caught up in the germy fun.  

In the midst of all this, I’ve been contemplating what I write. It is a common expression for aspiring authors to hear “write what you know.” Virginia Woolf takes it even further, saying, “Every secret of a writer’s soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind, is written large in his works.” So, I’ve been asking myself, what have these weeks of roller coaster Life deposited into my soul, crafted into my experience?  

Everything is fodder for creativity. Every experience is offered up upon the alter of creativity by Life, and awaits our interpretation and transformation.

The moment of hitting “submit” on that final paper and the weight of stress, strapped onto my shoulders like a two-ton backpack, rolling off. The intense pressure pounding into my brow with pinpoint accuracy and unrelenting fervor. The moment after the elation wears off, and the mundane returns, leaving the postpartum melancholy. Or the sweet release of pain when I open my eyes and the brilliance of day no longer burns but cheers. All these Life moments are the building blocks of great stories. They are fodder for my fiction.

What fodder has Life given you lately?