I can think of no more inspiring story to share on this holiday than that of William Kamkwamba's windmill project in Malawi (link via Easy Bake Coven). But that's not an American story, you might be thinking. No, it's not. But it's stories like this that never fail to inspire us, because they epitomize what we think of as the American spirit. Please check out William's blog--start from the earliest post (there are only a few). I guarantee you'll feel inspired.
you snap awake like a dream soldier coming to attention you were with your grandmother she'd been dropping you off at your house your childhood home it all seemed so real even her little beige car the one that idled so fast that you could pull away from stop signs at a pretty fast clip without even touching the gas you'd asked her before you got out of the car if there was anything she'd been wanting to do anything that her heart longed for that no one was paying attention to and she told you that ever since your father was in diapers she'd wanted to go to lunch at the tip-top that it was quite the beachside resort at the mouth of the klamath river you told her you'd be by later to pick her up and that you'd drive her there and you'd have lunch together and when you bolted awake you heard whispered apologies shouting in your head telling her how sorry you were that you hadn't been more attentive that you'd most often only thought about what she could do for you and so seldom about what you could for her
your mate came to bed then and you felt spent and barely able to move worn out from the guilt swirling around your head thinking how real the dream felt even though the tip-top doesn't exist even though you could picture it clearly in your mind there'd been another part of that dream at one point you'd both been on an open streetcar and a choir of teenagers from new orleans had been there too awaiting a performance at the fairgrounds and as you rode slowly through town they rehearsed their song and it was so unusual and so beautiful and you wished they'd sing it again you remembered it with a smile when you woke and thought again how lovely it had been and it took a few minutes for you to realize that you'd written that music that once again you'd spiraled down into your creative dna and come up with beauty and grace but this time instead of feeling disappointed instead of wondering how you could do that in your waking life you felt the dream soldier in you relax into an at ease position as you let yourself float away on a cloud of possibilities
We're leaving for Las Vegas at some point today. As I said to my mother yesterday, "Trying to pin down my brother to a timetable is like trying to bottle a cyclone..." I'll put up a post before I leave. I'm hoping they'll bring their laptop, but if they don't, computer access might be sketchy (or even non-existent) for the next few days. I'm going to try to keep up the poem-a-day thing as best I can, even if I have to make up a few after I return. We'll be staying at my aunt's house once we reach Phoenix (Glendale, actually). More later...
It rained on Monday. That combined with the fact that I fell asleep at 5:45 and didn't wake until 12:45 means that I missed shooting a timely shadow self-portrait for Monday. You'll have to settle for a shot of my limp hand against the kitchen wall shot in the wee hours of Tuesday morning. Maybe the sun will come out today...
If you're looking for something more closely resembling a 'real' post, I'm over on Vox this morning.
I really enjoyed the discussion yesterday on this post. Additional comments (from non-Ning members) are here. I enjoy a good discussion when we can appreciative each other's points of view without attacking each other.
Feel like continuing the conversation? I'd like to know how you feel about the word "manifesting." The post is here. And as before, non-Ning members can leave their comments right here.
I watched this movie today. It's called Waking Life and it was
written and directed by Richard Linklater. It's pretty darn
brilliant. Stunning visually. Innovative in its animation
techniques. And packing a powerful message. In another scene, a guy
in overalls playing a ukelele tells the protagonist, Wiley, that: "The
trick is to combine your waking, rational abilities with the infinite
possibilities of your dreams. Because if you can do that, you can do
anything." I can't tell you how many times in my life (since I dream
like crazy and always remember them upon waking) that I've thought
something I dreamed was really clever or creative or intense or
riotously funny or amazing. And then it'll hit me: whatever was
knocking my socks off was a product of my own mind in its most relaxed
state. It always make me wonder how I can tap into that place in my
waking life. I started to say my "awake life," but how awake can I be
if my conscious self is blocking the entrance to that super-creative
place?
In the Julie Delpy-Ethan Hawke exchange in that YouTube video, he says
that line I used as the title of this post: "We're all telepathically
sharing our experiences." Sometimes I wonder if this is what
synchronicity really is--moments of us breaking through the mental and
emotional membranes we surround ourselves with to tap into a collective
consciousness.
On Tuesday, I got a friend request from a guy named Brad Listi at MySpace. I'd never heard of him and have no idea how he found me, but as I always do, I checked out his profile
before deciding whether or not to approve his request. Turns out he's
a writer in L.A. Wrote a novel called Attention. Deficit. Disorder. And it's not just any novel either--it's a great fucking book. But I'll get to that in a minute. The book has its own MySpace page.
And after reading several of the blog entries at the book's page, I
'friended' both the author's and the book's pages. This guy's not
only written a kick-ass first novel, he also writes a great fucking blog. (Sorry for all the cursing, but that's how I talk in 'real life.') Read his blog. You'll see. You know how many blogs I read, right? (Way too many.) It's a great blog.
Now, I'm broke as broke can be right now, so I'm afraid ol' Brad's not gonna make any money off me this week, but I did want to read his book. I went to my library's online catalog and found there was a copy of his book available. I'd gotten an email from the library that a book I'd requested, Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist (which I've been meaning to read for years) was in. So Thursday after work, I swung by the library on my way home to pick up both books. I'd already gone through the checkout line when I remembered that we were in between Netflix movies, so I went back in to the DVD racks and in about 90 seconds of quick flipping (it's not a huge selection, obviously) I grabbed three DVD's. One of those was Waking Life. I recognized it as a Linklater film, but in that moment, the only Linklater film I could recall was Dazed and Confused (and I think I've only seen a few minutes of that film).
When I got home I checked my email and found a message that Rosa had left a comment on a blog post I'd written over on my Ning network about found art--something Rosa does beautifully. I'd written that visual art (outside of photography) isn't something that comes easily to me--I don't experience any sort of creative flow in those mediums. But I'm intrigued by and drawn to the concept of found art and was trying to think how I could reshape that concept into something that would work for me. Rosa's comment was to suggest that I try found poems. (An idea I love, by the way.)
When I first started the Ning network, I'd linked in a post there to Evelyn Rodriguez's blog, Crossroads Dispatches. I've been reading her blog for years and think it's one of the best out there. She'd just started a series she was calling "forty days of everyday inspiration" and I thought the Ning'ers would enjoy it. And she was about embark on a trip to one of my favorite places in the world, New Orleans. N'Awlins (as my bayou friend calls it) is one of the few places I've been that felt like home to me, even though I've never lived there. In an ironic twist, I'm from a town called Crescent City, which is New Orleans' nickname. Although Crescent City is my hometown, it's never felt like home--it just feels familiar. And I hope you know what I mean by that distinction.
Right after reading Rosa's comment about found poetry, I read this post at Evelyn's where she talked about encountering a street poet in New Orleans. He'd written a poem for her on the spot. It reminded me of that scene in Before Sunrise or maybe Before Sunset (I couldn't remember which) where Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke encounter a poet along a river bank while they're out walking at night, and I included that in the comment I left on Evelyn's post.
Thursday night I began reading Attention. Deficit. Disorder. On page 188 he writes, "I remember we went to see a post-run showing of Before Sunrise, the Richard Linklater film..." As I read that, I remember thinking, "Hey, I just left a comment on Evelyn's blog mentioning that film..." In response to her encounter with the New Orleans street poet...which had triggered something in me having read about it right after reading Rosa's comment that I might want to try leaving found poems. But the Linklater reference in the book escaped me in that moment.
After work on Friday, I checked in at a few places online and saw that Leah had a new post up at Ning--talking about how she'd seen in her Bloglines that Evelyn had a new post...and that it featured her art. Leah said in her post that things were starting to feel like dominoes. I knew the feeling.
I continued reading Listi's book for two hours between the time I got home from work Friday night until I had to head back to school to chaperone the dance, and continued reading late that night after I got home. My sleep patterns being what they are (irregular), I woke up about halfway through the night, grabbed the novel and took to the couch where I alternately read and dozed until I finished it early Saturday morning. At one point I dreamed that I worked at a Catholic school (with a staff of nuns), but I slipped away at lunchtime one day to hear Curtis perform at a funky club across the street from the school. I smoked a joint in the club's bathroom first and was higher than a kite. I stayed for one set in the bar and then got paranoid that I probably reeked of pot and started spraying myself with perfume before heading back to work at the school. And then I realized that SHIT!...I wasn't supposed to be smoking pot! I'd just thrown away 17 years worth of sobriety! I was relating that to a friend--how I'd fucked up and how bad I felt about it. And how I shouldn't have left at lunchtime without telling anyone I was leaving to take a lunch break, but that my friend had recently recovered from liver cancer and I'd wanted to hear him sing. After I woke I thought it was interesting that I was able to weave some truth into such a weird dream. Because as most of you know, Curtis did recover from terminal liver cancer by getting a liver transplant last Fall. But I was greatly relieved to realize that the pot had only happened in my dream life. And last time I checked, that doesn't count at A.A. But the part about telling the friend seemed so real--it didn't seem like I was still inside a dream layer.
Around mid-day on Saturday, I popped in the Waking Life DVD. But because I'd had a super-busy week and had been up half the night reading, I kept nodding off. It seemed kind of ironic that I kept dreaming in the middle of watching a film about the nature of our realities in our waking versus dream lives. Wiley has a hard time waking in the film. It wasn't until I saw the Julie Delpy-Ethan Hawke scene above that I remembered that Richard Linklater had done both Before Sunrise and Before Sunset (even though Listi had mentioned one of them in his book).
What does any of this have to do with inspiration, the prompt at Sunday Scribblings today? Hell if I know. All I know is that when things start seeming interconnected like this, I start paying closer attention. And my dreams lately have been off the hook.
I just looked up inspiration and in my dictionary it says:
1. inspiring 2. an inspiring influence 3. a sudden brilliant idea
The word below it is inspire:
1. to stimulate (a person) to creative or other activity or to express certain ideas 2. to fill with or instill a certain feeling 3. to communicate ideas, etc. by a divine agency
And the word after that is inspirit. I'd completely forgotten about this, but I think I have a (unused) blog with that word in the title that I set up years ago. It means:
1. to put life into; animate (emphasis mine) 2. to encourage
Now go read Brad Listi's book. You won't be disappointed. There's one scene that didn't quite work for me, but otherwise it's pitch perfect.
The sun's out--it's a warmish, beautiful day. I've been to the library and plan to curl up on the bed this afternoon with a big stack of books...window open to the sun. I'll be back to post something tomorrow for Sunday Scribblings. In the meantime, I've got a couple of new posts up on my Ning blog. Or if you're in the mood for new music, you can read the post I wrote today at Vox.
i've found you under the bed before more than once actually there've been times when i searched for you and times when i've done my best to hide from you you're not easily defined because it takes awhile to understand that what appears to be your absence can sometimes be your disguise you've become a sort of old and odd friend one that can lend comfort through your familiarity and contempt from your persistence we dance within our awkward embrace most often you take the lead but at times i'll wrestle you for power without letting you go
Did you figure out what I'm writing about? Edited Friday to add: I was writing about darkness (depression). More "no names, please" posts at Poetry Thursday. And be sure to read Dana's March 1st post which describes all of the fabulous new stuff coming our way at their fabulous new site!
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My Own Social Network
In other news... I've gone and done it--created my own social network. Not because I want it to be about me, but so I could create a community for any of you who'd like to create our own little network with me. Sort of a MyPlace. It's at Ning and it's totally free. (They have a premium service, but I don't mind a few Google ads in return for free service.) My network is called Finding My Mojo and it's here. It's not about my mojo--it's about yours and anyone else's, too. (I've made it public.) As I said in the "Welcome!" post there:
I created this network because I know a lot of people (mainly women,
but some men, too) who seem to be in a similar place in their lives
right now (myself included). We've incorporated elements of our dream
lives into our day-to-day lives, but we want more. That taste of it has
made us hungry for a more passion-laced life on a regular basis.
I created this as a place for us to support each other in that
endeavor. A place where we can share the dreams that reside in the
wildest reaches of our imaginations. Where we can DREAM BIG without
anyone laughing at us or telling us all the reasons why those dreams
will never come true for us.
Whatever your creative pursuit is--however you imagine your ultimate
life--this is a place for you. This is designed to be a place of
community and acceptance and support. I hope you'll create it with me.
Maybe something like this is appealing to you, maybe not. If you'd like to join, you only need to set up a free account at Ning which only takes a moment. You'll have your own page in the network and you can customize the appearance of it. You can blog there and have your posts also appear on the network's main page. You can upload photos from Flickr (I installed a Flickr API--whatever that is!), your cell phone, email or your computer. You can post videos (including from YouTube and Google). There's a forum for discussions--I'd love to toss a few creative balls back and forth with you. What I want Finding My Mojo to be is a community of like-minded souls who encourage and support each other.
Having been in this blogging community for 3-1/2 years, I see a lot of blog-sisters (mostly sisters, but blog-brothers are welcome, too!) who seem to be on the verge...of something big. Maybe 2007 can be a breakthrough year for many of us. If I could have you all over for regular coffee dates, I would. But since I can't, I created a virtual front porch where we can hang out and exchange ideas and encourage each other's wildest dreams. One of my goals for 2007 is to be bolder and more open about my dreams. As I said, Ning's basic service is free. Maybe you like the idea of my network, or maybe you want to create your own--it could be about anything. However you do it, I hope you'll take some giant steps this year toward making your future your present...because that's exactly what I plan to do.
How many people does it take to screw in a light bulb? Wait, you think, that's not how the joke goes. It's not "people"--it's (insert ethnic group name here). But you wake from a dream hearing that line in your head: how many people does it take to screw in a light bulb? Because you dreamed that you'd found your place. You'd found that place where you felt lit up. It wasn't a place in the geographical sense--it was a place inside of you. You'd had a dream about finding your incandescence. You wake feeling happy to have found that place. And yet you don't know how to articulate the dream, how to describe what it felt like when you were there...in that place.
The dream didn't tell you anything you didn't already know, but it conveyed the information in a new way that caught your attention. And you see that all of those things you surround yourself with--all of those pursuits--are your attempt to generate enough sparks to light your bulb. It's like you're chasing through life seeking just the right combination of sticks that--rubbed hard enough together--will catch...FIRE.
You see now that (in no particular order)...
writing music schoolkids blogging Darfur travel friends San Francisco humor photography film Obama poetry Caribbean Auntielove reading Portland beaches vintage Schwinn the Smith ideas dance Glide coffee houses event planning redwoods theater clotheslines networking thrift stores New Orleans
...all those things that do or have played a big part in your life...that have filled you with a passion...that when you lift the lid on your heart-jewels box you find tucked away inside as touchstones...those are your sparks. And you see so clearly now that--for you anyway--"passion" isn't about one thing. It never was, which is why you always felt stumped when someone would ask, "But what do you really want to do?" You couldn't imagine for a moment having to pick one thing--to focus your energies on just one endeavor. You used to feel ashamed that you couldn't focus on just one thing. Not anymore. Now you feel like one of the lucky ones, because now you realize that the whole shebang is your passion. So if others think you're not really making 'headway,' let 'em think it. Because you know that what you're really doing is spinning through life gathering sparks from your touchstones...gathering your incandescence.
if on a regular basis i could Create touchstones for myself that could function in lieu of goals because the g-word always smacks of the c-word (commitment shhh don't say it too loud) so touchstones that could serve as benchmarks to let me know when i'm there if i could also Heed my intuition because it's all too easy in my day-to-day life to drown it out with monkey mind so heeding would be good as well asAligning with what feels like my right purpose if i could tune in to see if decisions feel right so aligning at all times while simultaneously Narrating what i want to manifest through affirmations because when you really think about it if you want to storyboard your dream life then affirmations are sort of the basis of your script so narrating would be on the agenda and then i could Grow excited about the possibilities stretching to the horizon i could grow while making sure to Elevate my consciousness because i need to be in a good clean place to receive what all of that opening up would allow to come into my life so if i could create and heed and align and narrate and grow and elevate then maybe just maybe things might... be different
How many people does it take to screw in a light bulb? Wait, you think, that's not how the joke goes. It's not "people"--it's (insert ethnic group name here). But you wake from a dream hearing that line in your head: how many people does it take to screw in a light bulb? Because you dreamed that you'd found your place. You'd found that place where you felt lit up. It wasn't a place in the geographical sense--it was a place inside of you. You'd had a dream about finding your incandescence. You wake feeling happy to have found that place. And yet you don't know how to articulate the dream, how to describe what it felt like when you were there...in that place.
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