Cirque du Malaise

The other day I got a letter in the mail. I recognized the handwriting right away, because it was my own. No return address. "That's odd," I thought. "When did I find the time to write myself a letter?"

Then I remembered that I took a yoga workshop on New Year's Day with Christy Brown in Pt. Reyes, during which we took a timeout to write ourselves a letter. Christy must have just mailed them.

This is an old journaling workshop trick that I adore. You write yourself a letter — about your hopes, your dreams, your desires, your goals — and then you have someone else mail it at an unspecified time in the future. By the time you get it, you don't remember ever writing it, and it's as if someone else (someone who loves you very much and really, really cares about your welfare!) wrote it to you. It's quite lovely.

With Christy, a longtime friend of mine and expert yoga workshop teacher, I will be co-leading a retreat in Santa Barbara the first weekend in May. Special guest Helge Hellberg, a renowed sustainable food expert, will be there to talk to us about eating locally and organically (which, incidentally, we'll be doing that weekend).

Now I have to think of a way to top the ol' postponed-letter journaling trick. I'll think of something. Won't you join me there?

 

Read more and please consider joining us for what I'm expecting to be a really lovely weekend in the Santa Barbara hills by the sea!

For an allegedly creative person, I can be wildly unimaginative at times. When I first arrived at art school, way back in the day, it was challenging for me to wrap my mind around some of the more vague assignments that did not always involve parameters. In my first photography studio class, the teacher assigned us to "bring something to critique in a month." Not necessarily a color photograph or even a photograph at all — just: something. It was a photography class, so naturally, I made photographs. Other kids with seemingly more expansive imaginations made sculptures, or did performance art, or set things on fire and took pictures of them. My mind was blown in that first critique. Apparently, to be a photographer did not mean you had to take pictures!

That was my first clue that to be an artist does not mean to identify yourself with a traditional medium, or any medium at all.

Now, I'm a writer. But sometimes, the things I do to feed my writing have nothing to do with writing or reading or even thinking in words. I take one workday every month and play "creative hooky."

This last Friday, I took my hooky day and went to some of my favorite creative haunts in San Francisco: the bulk spice aisle at Rainbow Grocery, Flora Grubb, The Village Market. I ended up at the Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park. This is San Francisco's  newest and most popular museum, so I had shied away from checking it out on a weekend. I'm glad I went during the week — although somehow the place was still full of sick children. I can't wait to someday have kids and bring them to museums when they are sick. What fun that is for everyone involved! Especially for the unwitting stranger who gets strategically seated next to your hacking, tubercular child in a locked, blackened planetarium show for a solid hour! Anyway, snotty attitude aside, the planetarium was the highlight of the museum, until, that is, I rounded a corner and discovered the jellyfishes.

I don't know about you guys, but jellyfish rock my world. They are one of the few things that make me lean away from Darwinism and toward Creationism. Not really, but still.... why did nature make jellyfishes so cool? When nature blows my mind like this, I find that I can get out of my head and let my imagination flourish. I was inspired to take this riveting 47-second movie and spend hours that night figuring out how to sync it to music with iMovie. I call this: Yellyfish — The Movie. I'm thinking of submitting it to Sundance.

(If the movie below is not loading for you, click here to watch it on YouTube.)

Okay, back to writing now.

I’ve written a lot about being a big fan of the Julia Cameron book The Artist’s Way. I’ve followed this 12-week program several times in my life, and it has really made a difference in the way I see myself and my potential for creativity. The last time I “did” The Artist’s Way project, I blogged about it every week. You can see the archive here.

One of my favorite things about The Artist’s Way project is that you make a creative date with yourself every week. This is a habit I have tried to carry over into my life as a permanent fixture. Not every week, necessarily, but regularly. This year, I decided to take one workday off every month and play creative hooky.

This is how my first creative hooky day of 2012 went:

First, I went to the Mill Valley Library and read magazines.

My intention was to find new magazines to submit my writing to. However, I will admit that O! Magazine sucked me in for a while. I hate it when I am an obedient example of the target market. But I did also (re) discover the McSweeneys publication The Believer, which you betcha I will be subscribing to from now on. I particularly liked this piece: Hatorade — about the phenomenon of hateful internet commentary. Been there.

While I was at the library, I checked out a free pass to the De Young Museum in San Francisco.

(Yet another reason the library system rocks the house.) If you haven’t been to the De Young in Golden Gate Park, definitely check it out. It’s my favorite museum in San Francisco. I particularly love that it doesn’t seem to have a theme. It’s not, like “modern art” or “heritage art” or “Asian art” or anything like that. It’s just a mishmash of cool stuff. The main exhibit right now is classic Venice masterpieces (oil paintings). The next one is going to be a Jean Paul Gaultier exhibit. My favorite things at the De Young this time:

The Art of the Anatolian Kilim (Ottoman empire rugs from like 400 years ago)

A very cool mobile sculpture with accompanying shadow art. (More on this.)

Stopped at The Village Market in San Francisco for a mocha.

And while I was there, bought some very expensive rice with bamboo powder in it. I don’t know; I’m a sucker for things that should be really cheap but are actually exorbitantly expensive. $7 for rice? Sign me up! But it was actually quite delicious.

And last but not least, went to pottery class.

The perfect way to top off a day of 100% creative activities. Ah, good for the soul.

Oh also, you guys, because I talk about The Artist’s Way so goddamned much, someone from their publishing team recently gifted me a free trial of their brand new web site service and iPhone app, My Artist’s Way Toolkit. The intersection of creativity and technology is something I’m really passionate about, so I was very excited to try this out.

It’s pretty cool. Whether you are interested in making a commitment to the 12-week Artist’s Way program, or just want a place where you can jot down ideas, receive Artist’s Way journaling prompts and “Artist Date” ideas,  and feel like you are really doing something for your inner artist and still being a cool, hip, technical sort, check it out. And they gave me a code you can use to try it for free for one month. Go here and type in: AWTOOLKIT

Make me proud!

I recently read this article: 9 productivity tips for working at home. I work at home, writing, all day. It’s not easy, and I’m always interested in how other people manage to pull it off. Some of these so-called tips were like, dur. But the whole time I was reading the blog post, I was shaking my head “no.” Maybe I'm weird (I am), but what works for other people doesn’t seem to work for me.

For me, every day consists of a lot of pacing, peeing, stalling, cleaning, spacing out and waiting anxiously for the mailman. To be fair, I’m equally if not drastically more unproductive in an office environment. But over the years that I’ve been a freelance writer, I’ve started to learn what really works for me. So if you are looking for my advice (trust me, you’re not), here are my tips, amended:

They say: Track your time by hand.

My actual calendar

I say: If “by hand” you mean the genius, multilayered, complex Excel spreadsheet and iCal calendar (with 7 different embedded calendar subjects) that I spend my time obsessing over instead of doing actual work, yup, check.

They say: Pair up with an accountability partner.

I say: Does my split personality count?

They say: Work with someone else in your home.

I say: Oh hahahahahahahaha that’s funny. Right Michael? Remember the last time we tried that? I’m pretty sure we watched all 3 seasons of Arrested Development in a week.

They say: Leave [the house].

I say: You sound like my therapist.

They say: Dress for work.

I say: I do this! Well, what I mean is, I take the time every morning to put a bra on (under my sweats that I already was wearing) and to put my hair in a ponytail. If it’s good enough for the mailman, it’s good enough.

They say: Reduce web clutter

I say: Twitter actually helps me concentrate, and if you don’t believe me, watch this:

They say: Psychologically reinforce self-discipline. Instead of getting up in the middle of a project, reward yourself with a snack once you’ve gotten it done.

I say: I can’t concentrate when I’m hungwee so that doesn’t really work for me. I’m more into fanatically monitoring my blood sugar all day. This is also why I can’t work from the library. I have to be within 30 seconds of food at all times.

They say: Answer phone calls and emails in batches.

I say: I wholeheartedly agree with this direct quote from the article: “There are few things more distracting than answering your phone in the middle of the project. After hanging up, your concentration is shot and you have to start all over again.”

And that’s why I don’t answer the phone. Pretty much, ever. The telephone is the scourge of humanity, in my opinion. I have a lot to say about how evil the phone is. But I don’t find email distracting at all. In fact, as a writer, it helps me stay in the flow of writing, sometimes.

They say: Reduce physical clutter.

I say: I throw shit out.

I had a small piece published by The New York Times Room For Debate column about yoga and narcissism.  I was really excited about it at first, but then I started to worry that this is going to be the pinnacle of my writing career. So, I decided it’s time to get serious about writing a book. First step, of course, is a name. That’s as far as I’ve gotten. And I can’t seem to narrow it down. Can you guys help me?

1

Thank You For Confirming Our Delusions

(Thanks to erstwhile graphic designer Matthew Teague Miller)

. . . . .

2

The Truth About My Lunch

(Inspired by a particularly bad customer service experience at hippie hangout Cafe del Sol in Mill Valley)

. . . . .

3

That’s What the Incense is For

(Inspired by Six Feet Under and some dead peonies I just couldn't throw away)

. . . . .

4

Does Not Play Well With Others

(Inspired by my personality)

. . . . .

5

Languish & Flounder

(An unfortunately apt summary of my life)

. . . . .

6

I Like The Dirty Stuff

(A memoir about pottery)

. . . . .

7

See How You Are?

(My all time favorite memoir title was already taken — Why I’m Like This — so this is my runner-up choice in the category of blaming other people for my problems)

. . . . .

8

The Attention Seekers

(A dissy memoir about my time in the yoga world)

. . . . .

9

Histrionical

(This one is self-explanatory I think, and my current favorite)

. . . . .

In the meantime, I decided to start a page on my blog to Virgoneurotically keep track of the books I read this year. Check it.

I think New Year’s resolutions should be achievable. In that spirit, here are ten things I definitely will not do in 2012:

1. Read one single more self-help book.
2. Consult any more healers.
3. “Get out more.”
4. Get up earlier.
5. Get better about talking on the phone.
6. Engage with passionate yogis in earnest conversations about the difference between “compassion” and “simply not having a sense of humor.”
7. Swear I’m gonna learn to walk in heels for the third year in a row.
8. Continue trying to popularize "pajama chic" on my daily jaunts to The Hole.
9. Explain to one single more vegan why I eat meat.
10. Prepare for a zombie invasion (sorry, Maynard).

And, a bonus list! Thanks to The Hairpin for this idea. This is my “reverse bucket list,” or, ten things I definitely do NOT want to do before I die:

1. Go to Burning Man.
2. Complete a triathlon.
3. Sojourn through India on a spiritual quest.
4. Get a boob job.
5. Get elected to office.
6. Shoot a gun.
7. Finally learn to sew.
8. Spend a little time in prison, just for the experience.
9. Be the life of a party.
10. Have a 3-way.

This is by no means a comprehensive list.

Oh, here’s one thing I will be doing, at least in January:

The River of Stones 30-Day Writing Challenge. Join me?

I just got back from a writing retreat at Esalen that I attended with Vanessa Fiola. She and I spent 3 days in close proximity to 118 other writers and aspiring writers, most of whom were organic sheep farmers and medical marijuana advocates. The median age was about 67, which made me feel young, for once.  The very first thing we had to do was stand up in front of everyone with a mic and read our 30-word bio. Panic! Then, we went to three workshops of our choice, with three excellent writers from Sun Magazine (who hosted the workshop).

Here’s a haiku I wrote during one of the workshops. It was based on a fill-in-the-blank icebreaker prompt:

Today my name is dead fly on the windowsill.

I know nothing at all. There never was a time this was not so.

I know; I won’t quit my day job yet.

If you’ve never been to Esalen, you should go sometime. It’s a magical place. I don’t mean that in the “fairies alight” way — although a lot of the people who frequent the place definitely, definitely do mean it that way. I mean that I have never been there without strolling through a flower garden at sunset while the sweet smell of sea air wafted up the craggy moors and Monarch butterflies flitted by in the dazzling Indian summer light.

Behold:

Esalen is known for its natural sulfur hot springs, and they are pretty spectacular. They’re tucked into a discreet bathhouse nestled into the side of a cliff, so that while soaking in the various tubs you can stare out over the Pacific and occasionally (this has actually happened to me) see a whale. And I’m not talking about the naked dude conspicuously sharing the hot tub. Note: before visiting Esalen, it’s a good idea to perfect your unfocused middle distance stare.

Honestly, if I could live on retreat I would. I love everything about it. (Everything except the other people, of course.) I prefer silent retreats, naturally, but I appreciate that you can bask in anonymity at virtually any retreat if you’ve mastered the art of being cold and aloof, like I have.

Also, a remnant of my bohemian childhood in the wilderness of Western Massachusetts is that I feel most at home in weird hippie enclaves like Esalen. I like to be in places that have dedicated “Art Barns” and serve stewed prunes for breakfast. When I round a corner and come upon a couple of dreadlocked 20-somethings spread out in an intense batiking project, my heart swells. (Which might lead you to believe that I’m into Burning Man. But nope.)

I’m so happy to have finally made the shift from yoga retreats to writing retreats. This is where I belonged all along.

For now, anyway.

I'm sorta sick of writing about yoga, and I've heard from a few arguably tactless associates recently that they are sick of me writing about yoga too. So I decided to write about something different. That's right, my cats. Write what you know, y'all. I actually wrote this a year ago, but shhh, don't tell.

Read This Is All I Know About Budapest in its entirety on Open Salon.

I've been in and out of the yoga industry for about 15 years now and I've had to endure a lot of conversations with a lot of people about yoga. I wrote about it for Recovering Yogi this week. In case you missed it:  Conversations I've had with people about yoga

I just spent a week in Cape Cod with my oldest girlfriends. The seven of us grew up together, and now we are growing old together too. We've been friends our entire lives, and so when we get together, there aren't a lot of barriers. We talk about everything and in really loud, fast, interrupting-each-other kinds of voices. But we never talk about yoga. Yoga might come up in conversation once in a while; after all, three of us have been yoga instructors, two of us actually owned yoga studios, and every single one of us has taken plenty of yoga classes. Even the least yogic among us has done her fair share of down dogs. But when we get a chance to see each other, yoga is generally the last thing on our minds. It's so refreshing not to talk about yoga.

In the yoga world, you learn how to talk to people in a certain way. You use Marshall Rosenberg’s Nonviolent Communication techniques to avoid hurting feelings. You take Responsibility with a capital R for your own emotions, judgments and thoughts. In the yoga world, you don’t cross-talk and you don’t interrupt and you always respect other people’s opinions (or pretend to) and you listen thoughtfully with your head slightly tilted to one side and, above all, you never, ever break eye contact. Conversations are punctuated with tender touches on the arm and they always start and end with a big, lingering hug.

In my tribe of childhood friends (I feel justified using that word for once because of the savage nature of our bond) we have to vie for airtime and the most alpha always wins. Therefore, interrupting and trying to talk over everyone else is the nature of our communication. At any given time, 5 of the 7 of us might be talking at the same time, or, I should say, shouting at the same time. People snap, feelings get hurt, sometimes someone cries briefly. No one ever tries super hard to be nice and if they do, it’s obvious and seems a bit false.

It’s exhausting. It’s also refreshing. Cuz it’s real. And there is so much love behind it all. It’s like we’re a big Italian family who never went to therapy.

Creativity is my favorite subject in the world, so I was giddy when UK bloggers from Writing Our Way Home asked me to take part in their ritual five questions about creativity, I giddily obliged. Please read it!

Read the interview...