BLOG CARNIVAL: Scenic Scribbles: The Environment of Writing

Levels of Consciousness

I started a hike up Royal Arch and thought of the levels of the flatirons, the makeup of its paths. I thought about these levels and how they were like levels of consciousness or being.

Pre-dawn
Up in the morning before the sun lends its light to the ground. Up and immediately needing. Pre-dawn is a time of instant demands. Survival instincts kick in, and as I trudge up the hill, breathing out visible puffs in the dark, I think of bears. In the dark, I am both vulnerable and cloaked in cover. Sheltered, but wary. The mountain above me hides, and in the pre-dawn hours, I can only know that what's not visible, isn't there.


Awakening
Moving up beyond a man-made path, I am enveloped in tree branches, weighted by snow. The sun begins to share its light with the ground. I've left pre-dawn and arrived at awakening. My senses seek experience. They reach out, grasping onto the rough edges of consciousness. This is a place past immediacy. I can touch the base of the flatirons and feel the dripping ice slide down the rock. Here is a time of noticing and acting on stimuli rather than only needs. My boots fall through the snow, each step sinking down til compacted snow stops it. And up I go.


Curious Activity
Higher still I climb, and the branches dwindle. Light seeps into the trees and bounces right back off the snow, blinding me. The sun holds onto its power even through the haze. Here I question. Here I want answers. How is the snow here so much softer and moist than that of the lower levels? What bird made tracks the size of peanuts in the snow? And what plants besides pine and ivy last all winter? My thoughts scatter from one to another, only landing long enough to take a mental picture.


Surreal
The town below is not real. It's too far away to connect to, and therefore only exists as a picture. The landscape is merely a backdrop to this rock, like evening is for night. Changeable in a moment, but not definable at any time. It's an incoherent sigh of relief. Exhalation frozen in the air. Such silence calms me after a day of curious activity. Thoughts from the day gel and stick in my mind. These are the things to ponder in sleep. Here is where you drift, hoping to stay for good, but knowing it is impossible.


Descent
It's a long way down. Usually, down is much easier than up, but when snow's involved, down becomes literal, and I try not to fall. Descent is the time the sun disappears: when thoughts become only of sleep so that the body and mind have no choice but to obey.

"Every moment of light and dark is a miracle."

Walt Whitman

 

I often wonder about these in between moments, these discrete miracles. What is the single moment that night becomes day. Weather reports say: Sunrise 6:49 a.m, but at what moment does dark become light, light back to dark. What moment does a mountain grow? These are environmental Pinter moments. A communication passes silently, but it's up to us to notice and understand it.

Now go read the other Blog Carnival participants!

http://farinonthewestwindsoferin.blogspot.com/

http://erinbery.blogspot.com/

Babies on the brain (it's not what you think)...

Well. Maybe it's what you think. This post is not meant to offend any of my awesome friends with children or with ones on the way. It's only my view of my life in comparison.

A few nights ago, I woke up (mentally woke up, not physically) and realized I was having a dream that I was in labor. Scary, right? It wasn't. Perhaps it's because I knew I was in the middle of a dream, so it wasn't real, but who knows. So I woke up, completely calm, but feeling my insides trying to escape. Somehow I knew that I was giving birth. But then I woke up the rest of the way and the entire scenario dissipated. I'm sure more was going on, but I never remember the sleeping parts.

I think I had this dream because I know so many people right now who are pregnant. Two of my cousins (one for the 2nd time and one on her first!), my sassy roomie from KSU, my dear FOXFIRE sister, an adorable pixie from film class, and my CO conspirator's cousin. Not to mention my friends from school who already have a kid, and of course my ridiculously cute goddaughter :-).

If they aren't pregnant, they are married, and if they aren't married, they are engaged to be married. They being at least 90% of the people I associate with. And most of these people are about my age. What I find so odd is that I'm not really in that phase yet, and it's not really what I think about. Yes, I have a long-term boyfriend whom I am crazy about, and yes, it's nice to think about getting engaged or married or what-have-you (I am a sap, I admit it!), but aside from living in the same state as my significant other again, that is not my focus.

Some people just want a family, and that is their main goal in life. That is certainly an admirable goal, and I am not knocking it in the least. I just have never been the one to say that yes, I want a husband and yes I want kids and yes I want a house, etc. I didn't think like that as a kid, I didn't as a young adult, and I don't as an adult now. My goals are career-oriented. Almost everything I do is to better my future career. Right now I'm working on an accounting degree so that I can combine that with my editing and freelance writing to build a way for me to work on my own schedule, in my way and enjoy my life. Right now I know I will never be truly satisfied going to an office every day, though that could change if I were to work for a company that is in line with my own beliefs (ie a horse farm, rescue, or animal publication). But even then, I'm not sure I can throw myself into that kind of work. I'm happy to work 80 hours a week on something I love, but I'd need it to be outside or with animals, not stuck at a desk. Who knows though. If it's my own making, I might be all right with it.

And the rambling got a hold of me there...

In any case, I don't know many people who are as career-driven as I am. I want to work, and I don't mind it feeling like work, but I want it to matter. Everyone I know is still figuring things out or in a completely different mode than I am in, which is not a bad thing at all, it's simply that I know very few around me who are fighting the same fight, so to speak. I know what I want, I know that there are dozens of outlets for what I want, and I'm going to hunt these outlets down until I make my kill. There's a terrible metaphor for you.

Ooohhh...today should be terrible metaphor day!

Or possibly ADD day, since clearly I can't keep on track.

Regardless, I think my mode is so clear to me right now that it's difficult for me to answer questions about the future, family, "settling down," etc. I simply don't have the brain capacity for that right now. I have career-mode tunnel vision, and the future is comprised of me creating a career that I can happily live with, and until I get to that point, I can't see outside my tunnel (horrible metaphor number two).


image by Emma Bell-Scott

*I am currently craving a hot plate of good ol' mac and cheese. Too bad I don't have any!

Additions to my Pillow Book

Things that empower me:
*Unifying with Toby's 1200 pounds as we move around the ring.
*Solving a math problem using logic.
*Having someone ask me for help.
*The thought of survival; I am here, I am doing this, and I am happy.

Things that curl my toes:
*Sour lemon sorbet.
*Hot sand, hot sun, and a condensation covered drink.
*Pressure on my collarbone.

Things I want to fix:
*Disorganized kitchen pantries.
*Friends in pain.
*Unprecedented inequality.

Things I need regularly:
*Exhaustion.
*Blatant shows of affection.
*Chocolate...texture rich and decadent.
*New challenges.

Things I wish I were, but am not:
*Always honest (particularly with myself).
*Humorous.
*Superwoman...cape, tights, and all.
*Modern.


image by positively present

I often feel I've lived before,
Sheltered from the rain.
I recall the prick of every drop,
But nothing of the pain.

Adaptability

Oops. It's been over a month since my last post! I can legitimately blame it on being busy (excuses, excuses).

For those of you who don't know, I've started school (again). I'm working on an Associates in Accounting so that I can take advanced courses in the future and possibly become an enrolled agent or take the CPA (possibly). I am also taking these classes with the thought of starting my own business (likely animal or publishing-related) one day.

So now I am working full-time, going to school full-time, keeping up with my half-marathon training, conditioning Toby, writing, taking care of my pups, and attempting to be social now and then. So if I don't respond to contacts right away, gently remind me again that you're still around.

And on to the topic at hand...

It amazes me how adaptable we are. Our bodies are constantly adapting to accommodate environmental, physical, and mental changes occurring every day. We adapt without meaning to, often without wanting to. Why are so many of us resistant to change when change is an ongoing process that is inescapable? Perhaps it's the predictability we want to avoid...at least the predictability of change, like knowing you have to go grocery shopping but wanting to avoid it. Of course, then you go hungry.

What do we do when we don't/can't adapt? What does this do to our creativity? Do we have to adapt to everything? Doesn't something constant define us more than something changeable? I'm honestly not sure. I want need must but can't adapt to contentedness in the moment. Not to say I'm never happy, but I get restless in my perpetual state of now.

It's odd when you dread something, only to realize you're used to it, and you wonder when that adaptation occurred. Yes, it was surely a gradual process, but when was that moment when your body and mind unified in thought and breathed out an agreement of change. The body/mind adapt and then make this change (which, at this point, is not longer a change but is now a constant) normal.

I will say that adaptation is the process of making the irregular, regular; turning a change into a constant. Adaptation is a cater-cousin defamiliarization. Though defamiliarization makes the normal appear strange, adaptation finds the strange and studies it to make it ordinary. I don't believe the two to be opposites, though they may seem that way. Both observe oddity to better understand its source.



image courtesy of Flickr and Mr. Cousins

A Few Notes

An interesting personal quiz:

1) Let's start with something typical-what is your favorite color? Why is it your favorite?
Deep blue is my favorite color because it's both soothing and mysterious. Plus, I think it looks nice against my pale skin and eyes.

2) What do you think is your strongest trait?
I suppose that would be my ability to find a solution to almost any problem. If I take the time to think about it, I can always figure it out.

3) What is your greatest fear (that is not a phobia)?
Failure. Having others see me fail. I don't claim to be perfect, but I don't want to be known for what I did wrong.

4) What do you want most out of life right now?
I want the year to pass quickly so that I can start a new "chapter" in my life. I'm ready for another big change and new challenges.

5) What other culture most fascinates you?
Native American culture has always been of interest to me, though I don't know a lot about it. I think it's their spirituality and after death beliefs that most intrigue me.

6) What is your worst vice?
I guess my temper? I can be mean when I'm angry, and I keep anger in until it boils over and I explode.

7) What is something about yourself that you would never change, even if it's been known to get you into trouble?
That would definitely be my tenacity. I don't like to give up, and sometimes it gets me in trouble because I don't know when to quit, but I'm learning...

8) What is something you wish you could change about yourself, but have not been able to?
I wish I could be happy being still more often, but I seem to thrive on running ahead full throttle until I crash. Then I have to recover, and it starts all over again.

9) What is a food you find comforting?
A tall caramel macchiato. The tastes, warmth, and caffeine soothes me. Ahhhh.

10) How do you expel anger or frustration?
Screaming, crying, or running. Ha ha ha.

11) What is one thing you wish to accomplish in the next five years?
Publish something more than just a short story or article. I'd like to say start my own business too, but we'll see!

12) Name one talent you have that people might not be aware of.
Hm. That's tough since I like to make my talents known. I suppose that would be my ability to pick up music and play it by ear rather than by reading music. I'm horrible at reading music!

13) Name one thing you wish you were good at, but are not.
Cooking. I always screw something up. Sigh.

14) What can make you laugh, no matter your mood?
Pumba rolling around on her back. And poufy Pekingese dogs running around. They look like little ottomans!

15) Name a movie, book, and song that brings about happy memories.
In Good Company, The Little Princess, and Perfect (by the Smashing Pumpkins).

Go ahead...you know you want to.



Image courtesy of P.M. Hedén.

Stillness: Art at its Purest

Lately, I've felt the need for more structure in my life (forgetting that I work 8:30 to 5 and follow a strict running and writing schedule). I think I am yearning for creative structure, which might very well only exist outside grippable realms.

I sought structure in art. My hands wanted an occupation that veered away from the constant tapping of the keys. And so, I thought, I'll paint! My mother paints, my bestie paints, J paints, and I have multiple friends who knit, draw, or create things. Not stories, but actual, tangible objects. Perhaps I'm seeking tangibility and not necessarily structure. I want to see success rather than just feel it or logically know it's there.

I didn't know I had these thoughts until I typed them out.

So I tried painting. Socially, it is a fun task. But still a task, not a soothing outlet or creative expression. I gave it another whirl, but it felt like work. While I don't view art as non-work (because it is work! Oh it is!), I find it to be an extraction or release of inner thought, which (in my opinion) should be enjoyable. Especially if the intention is to use the painting as an outlet. My hands are not equipped to glide a paintbrush, and I must strive for imperfection in order to accept that the results will not be perfect. While I have an eye for color and arrangement, I do not possess that talent that translates depth to paper or other medium. It is unfortunate because I can see the difference and know how it should look. It's like searching for a word that you know, but not being able to get it quite right. You know it's wrong, but you don't know how to fix it.

I simply have no patience for hands on creation. I like to work with my hands, but not necessarily to make things. I suppose I prefer to maintain them? I think that's the right word...

What I'm trying to get at here is that art is different for everyone. I think art is when you experience a stillness that causes you to think only about the present. Not even the present, but about the art itself. Art is that which reminds you of nothing else. For example, music is my art, my stillness.

I listen to songs I love, and there is nothing else. My favorite songs do not make me think of other songs or stories or pictures or situations or anything...they simply exist to me as a fragment of stillness.

I can become lost in a song.

It's a different type of stillness than a quiet, early morning on a mountain peak. A great line from a book or essay might have the same effect, but eventually those lines make me think, which leads to other thoughts and soon the stillness is only a gossamer strand of the past.

Music is the stillness that sticks, even if only for the length of the song. I wonder if this is why I feel I need music in my ears while I write. Do I crave the stillness of a song to calm my thoughts? I've always used music to block out worldly noises, but perhaps it triggers a stillness in my thought that I attempt to channel into my writing.

I think I'll experiment: writing w/ music vs. writing w/out.

And no more hands on art for me. It's just not my style.

My Pillow Book

Do you ever mention something that either disturbs you or makes you giddy, and you get that breadbox look (breadbox = the expression a breadbox could make = none)? This happens to me frequently. So, I've come up with my own Pillow Book of oddities.

Taste-bud Joys
*A particularly sweet fuji apple, with a smear of peanut butter.
*Slightly melted M&Ms.
*The first foamy sip of a caramel macchiato.
*The perfect grilled cheese sandwich, just browned, with sourdough, cheddar, tomato, and garlic.
*Red velvet.

Shards of Disturbance
*Squeaky brakes.
*Random wall vibrations.
*An unexpected taste.
*Suddenly expired batteries.

Instant Happiness
*When a driver understands and follows the meaning of a yield sign.
*Smiling and receiving a genuine smile in return.
*The last stretch of a long run.
*Puppies. Puppy smell. Puppy teeth. Puppy paws.
*Kissing the top of a horse's nose.

Things I Didn't Know I Missed Until I Had it Back
*Dirty knuckles from riding a horse.
*My AWP.
*Deep, uninterrupted sleep.
*Sanity.
*Colorado.

I'm sure I will add to this later, but for now, there you go readers. What's in your Pillow Book?



I <3 my "backyard."