Swirly Girl

Packing

[My luggage:  Eagle Creek Upright 22 - incredibly lightweight!]

I've had a few people ask how I manage to avoid checking any bags during most of my travels.  Since I am now in the process of packing for Jordan, I can share some of my tips as I put them into practice. 

I am packing for a one week trip across the globe and I have everything tucked in one suitcase small enough for the overhead bin.  My only other bag is a small tote bag, which will be my second allowable "personal item" on the plane.  Here's how I do it:

1.  I am a geeky, practical traveler.  If I can get away with bringing only one pair of shoes - the shoes I wear on the plane - I'll do it.  I happen to need one pair of nicer shoes for dinners on this trip, and I've chosen simple black flats.  They are thin, flat and pack easily.  Everyone in my group will see me wear each of the three pairs of pants I am bringing twice, and they'll see me wear the same long black skirt more than once I'm sure.  I have packed a variety of totally boring, plain layers - essentially a stack of tee shirts, mostly gray and black, and a couple of sweaters.  On a trip like this, the word fashionable does not enter my mind.  The word of the day is always practical, practical, practical.  No extra jewelry - I only take what I wear - no extra anything.  I have enough outfits for each day and not much beyond that.

2.  Toiletries and other personal items are packed to be as flat as possible.  One plastic ziploc for liquids, not jammed tight, but able to lay flat, one flat zipper pouch with my pill box, band-aids, immodium, etc.  One flat zipper pouch with minimal makeup, a few ponytail holders & barrettes and my toothbrush.  One flat pouch filled with tampons & whatnot because - pardon my divulging TMI here - my body tends to go haywire when I careen it out of its routine this dramatically. Because all of these smaller bags & pouches lie fairly flat, they fit nicely into my suitcase on top of all my clothes.  Eagle Creek and Tepper Jackson both have great travel accessories.

3.  I also save things like socks and tank tops for the tiny pockets of space that always open up after I've packed my clothes.  There are little "holes" all over, and these smaller items enable me to use every bit of available space in my suitcase.

4.  In my second allowable - albeit smaller - carry-on bag, I'll have my camera, pens, wallet, journal, book and glasses.

5.  My plan of action in case I go crazy at the markets in Amman is twofold:  my suitcase expands, and if I have to check it coming home because I've purchased so many fabulous treasures, then that's fine (but in the meantime, I'll savor not having to wait for my bag after we land in Amman).  I'm also taking a second, larger tote bag - which packs totally flat in my suitcase - to carry whatever I can carry on the plane (I got this one from Papaya.)  Between the extra space in my suitcase and the large tote bag, I should be able to go at least a little bit crazy at the markets even if it means I'll have to check a bag on the way home.

6.  After having shared all of this, I have to say I'm not totally rigid.  On my trip to New Zealand last year, my friends requested a number of items from the states that couldn't easily be found down there.  I managed to get a bottle of tequila, three bottles of red wine, three bottles of hot sauce, shaving cream and toothpaste across the Pacific intact thanks to bubble wrap and socks.  I then brought three bottles of wine back home with me and again, nothing was broken.

In a nutshell, I let go of having a wide variety of choices for myself when I travel.  I bring things that can be mixed and matched and leave all the extras behind - no extra purses, shoes, jewelry or outfits.  I'm totally OK being a great big dork, especially when I travel.  Geeky, practical, plain - that's my motto when I'm getting on a plane.

Class dismissed.

Sparklette #27

I'll be on two planes this Sunday, where I'll go through my tried and true air travel rituals:

* No checked baggage

* Window seat

* In-flight magazine crossword puzzle (I've been known to search through my neighbors' issues until I find a nice, blank puzzle.)

* Ginger ale

* Journal

Countdown

[Photo taken on a flight from Tokyo to Los Angeles after my first trip to Japan in 2005.]

Whenever I travel, I go through the same before and after timeline as the time leading up to my trip grows shorter.  I not only think about where I will be in one week, one day, etc. but also how quickly it will all be over.  For example, at this exact moment one week from now, I will have just landed in Amman, Jordan, to begin a week of travel that includes a visit to a place I have longed to see for years - Petra.  And two weeks from now?  I'll be on my way home.  Two weeks and one day?  Back home, journey over, bag still unpacked, memories still fresh in my mind like a perfect blanket of snow, not yet trampled on and churned up by errands, laundry and getting back to work.

I envision this before and after countdown in my mind to remind myself that while it might be a very big deal for me to be fulfilling an extraordinary dream, there is plenty more beyond this experience, and much to look forward to in terms of how my experiences on this journey will affect everything I do when I get back home.  My first trip to Japan taught me the art of standing still and observing to figure out what I needed to know (in that case, how to find the train I needed to go to another part of the city).  After I visited Cuba, I experienced an entirely new level of awe at the availability of something as mundane as Band-Aids in the United States (as Cubans have access to free health care, but there are no neighborhood drug stores where things like Band-Aids are available for sale.)  During my trip to New Zealand last year, I returned with greater clarity on a number of personal issues, the result of having a good chunk of quiet solitude in my friend's lovely beach house.  While I love the feeling of anticipation before a new excursion, I also look forward to what is in store for me after I get back home.

It is tempting to look at these out of the ordinary experiences as spaces of time when I'm really living my life - when I am pushing my limits, stepping out of my comfort zones and making dreams come true.  And while these experiences certainly shape who I am and have an impact on my life, they are but one layer.  If I use a house as a metaphor, weeks like the one I'll begin seven days from now are more like the ivory vintage lamps in our bedroom or the artwork on our walls.  They are accents to a larger piece, and certainly not as vital as a strong foundation or a well-built roof.  If I've done my work, their main purpose is to add beauty and flair to an already unique, fulfilling, marvelously imperfect structure - the story of my life.

Home

[Taken near Mendocino, California in 2004]

I took this photo in 2004 in a forest of giant redwoods in northern California.  This was during a road trip my husband and I took to Mendocino - a small town on a cliff overlooking the Pacific - just before we began the huge transition from quiet life in Santa Ynez to, shall we say, a less-than-entirely-quiet-life in Santa Monica.  That trip was like so many of the holidays my husband and I take, where we throw our bags in our car and drive to a place where we can be in nature, hike for hours, read our books and enjoy delicious meals.  On my own, I tend towards the more unusual journeys and locales - Cuba, New Zealand, and, in just a few weeks, Jordan - but with my husband I meander towards quieter fare.  After contemplating for weeks about where we should go on our next vacation together - a discussion that included Italy, Sweden and walking across the U.K. along Hadrian's Wall - we finally decided to drive north again where our time will be split between Yosemite and Big Sur. 

This will be my first time exploring Yosemite, but Big Sur is a place I have visited many times.  It is where I have headed in times of confusion to find some semblance of peace, and also where I go to sink deeper into my contentment, my joy, and my love of this awkward, beautiful, sometimes bumbling life of mine.  Even though a walk across the lush English countryside has now captured my imagination and my husband has not likely heard the last of my longing to experience that, I am happy that we chose to keep things easy this year.  No airport security lines, no 3 oz. bottles of liquids in ziploc baggies, no jet lag, no currency exchanges.  Just us, our hiking boots, a stack of books, our cameras, and a road map of California.

All this talk and we're not even going until May.

I imagine the tree pictured above is still exactly where it was when I took that photo.  We won't be walking through that forest on our trip this spring, but we will be walking amongst this tree's kin, along paths with ferns as far as the eye can see and trees so tall I almost fall over backwards looking up at them.  Did you know California has the tallest, biggest, and oldest living things on earth?  I am eager to be near them again, looking forward to that unique feeling of safety, hidden-ness, and solitude that only a forest provides.  This sense of security in the company of trees - under their canopy and surrounded by all the vegetation their shade encourages - goes all the way back to my childhood, when I played for hours on end in the woods near our homes, walking, digging, pretending, and exploring.  Wherever I am on earth, if I am in a forest, I am home.

“It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men's hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air, that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.”  ~Robert Louis Stevenson

Gifts from India

[A gift from India from this lovely soul...]

...and a gift from my friend Nina, a woman who reached out to me on her journey to India almost two years ago and has since bestowed the most beautiful gifts of poetry at moments when I most need them.

At the End of the Year

The particular mind of the ocean
Filling the coastline's longing
With such brief harvest
Of elegant, vanishing waves
Is like the mind of time
Opening us shapes of days.

As this year draws to its end,
We give thanks for the gifts it brought
And how they became inlaid within
Where neither time nor tide can touch them.

The days when the veil lifted
And the soul could see delight;
When a quiver caressed the heart
In the sheer exuberance of being here.

Surprises that came awake
In forgotten corners of old fields
Where expectation seemed to have quenched.

The slow, brooding times
When all was awkward
And the wave in the mind
Pierced every sore with salt.

The darkened days that stopped
The confidence of the dawn.

Days when beloved faces shone brighter
With light from beyond themselves;
And from the granite of some secret sorrow
A stream of buried tears loosened.

We bless this year for all we learned,
For all we loved and lost
And for the quiet way it brought us
Nearer to our invisible destination.

~ John O'Donohue

[© John O’Donohue. All rights reserved.  www.johnodonohue.com]

Cleanse

[Taken at the Meiji-jingu Shrine in Tokyo, Japan, 2005.]

Before entering a temple in Japan, visitors stop by a chozuya, a small trough of water that serves to "cleanse and purify a person's hands and mouth so that they can give offerings and prayers with a clean body and mind."  There are many such spots of repose all over Tokyo - places of worship and the smaller structures that surround them where visitors can cleanse, purify, leave prayers and walk in quiet meditation.  As expansive and neon-crazy as Tokyo is, there are plenty of places to get lost in one's thoughts and take a moment to pour water over one's hands before entering a place of worship, to think about what it means to "cleanse one's mind".

This month has been a time filled with many beautiful moments mixed in with a few morsels of strange and scary, the unique combination of which has put me on a path where tears arise unexpectedly and disappear just as quickly.  Yesterday afternoon one such moment occurred, and instead of resisting, I focused all my attention on the back of my eyeballs, in that layer of space where I could feel the tears rising, pushing their way forward to the corners of my eyes.  It was strangely gratifying to soften that part of my body and give my tears as much room as possible to go where they needed to go.  They stayed in that place of limbo, where, unless you looked closely, you wouldn't know I was on the verge of tears.  It seems as though my tears were content to give my eyes just the barest hint of a gloss, and then they settled back down, waiting until we were in the middle of a crowded restaurant an hour or so later to spill forth quietly. 

And right now, in this exact moment, I feel them again, coming up to the surface for the briefest instance, and now, at the end of this sentence, they are gone again.

This is how it has been.

Overall, I cannot say I am sad or despondent or fearful or anxious; I am simply moving through my days and trying to take whatever they have to offer me with grace and composure.  I am trying to stay in a place of observation, of thinking about how difficult it is to describe that precise moment when tears arise instead of labeling my tears as a sign that something must be really wrong.  Instead of looking at tears as a symbol of something negative - as reason to worry and fret (if I'm crying, something bad must be happening) - I can learn to appreciate their movement.  In letting them rise up and spill forth, I experience a release, a cleansing, a washing away of the smog that has been hovering over my heart, my mind, my thoughts.

As 2009 winds down and I walk towards a new year, I am stepping up to my own symbolic chozuya.  I will take a moment to cleanse my mind as much as possible, to think about what stories I want to continue to release and which ones I want to fortify.  This time of year inspires people around the world to take stock, look behind and look ahead, to step up to their own interpretation of this trough of water for a brief instance and pour a ladle of water over their souls.  My cleansing as of late looks to be connected to my tears, and if these tears are intended to help me enter a new year with even just a few cobwebs swept away, then I'll let them spill, and say a quiet thank you for every salty drop.

Filtering

[Taken in Tokyo earlier this year.]

This is a typical Tokyo view, where each of the signs stacked vertically is for a different shop or business.  Views like this are everywhere throughout the city; they go on for miles, as far as the eye can see.  As sprawling as Tokyo is, I always get the feeling that their main goal as a society is to utilize every inch of space available.  Tokyo feels endless, whether looking down a single street like the one pictured above or seeing it from the top of one of its many skyscrapers.  It goes on and on.  But it feels orderly, and there is beauty all around, from the manhole covers to the department store windows.

I think it says a lot about a city, community and a person to see how they utilize their space - whether physical, emotional or temporal.  Are there empty spaces that invite quiet reflection?  Does it feel organized or haphazard?  Energetic and lively or tense and abrasive? 

Life, finally, feels like it has slowed down to a more manageable pace.  Our house is cleared out of guests and roommates, all my major projects for the year are complete, and even though I know the holidays will bring their own brand of busy-ness, I can look at my time between now and the end of the year and see...emptiness.  A wide open expanse.  Nothingness. 

Just as I've purged piles of material objects out of my house and studio since September, it is now time to pay attention to the nagging questions, the thorns, the irritations, the issues I haven't dealt with and the reflections on what felt right this year, what felt comfortable, and what no longer fits.  My studio has been pared down to just the essentials - and I even sold my car, a daring maneuver in Los Angeles - and it is time to go through the same exercise within my heart and mind.

"Look within!... The secret is inside you."  ~Hui-neng

Listening to Rain

[Stormy afternoon in Hilton Head, South Carolina.  Taken last weekend.]

I am still catching up on things after a long weekend away in South Carolina, where the main staple was not a specific vegetable or dish, but simply FRIED.  And can I say?  Fried = good, which means it's a good thing I don't have easy access to the fried green tomatoes, fried chicken, hush puppies, fried shrimp and peanut butter pie (not fried, but just as addicting) I indulged in all weekend long. 

I had not been in that part of the country in many years, not since I moved from Athens, Georgia after finishing graduate school and moving to Santa Barbara.  We flew into Atlanta and drove to Hilton Head for a wedding, and every moment of the weekend was dripping in nostalgia.  Not only did I spend three years in Athens, but I also spent three formative years in Jacksonville, North Carolina - 3rd, 4th & 5th grades - where I spent hours and hours on the beach every summer.  Everything from the roadside signs for boiled peanuts to the crooked wooden fences along the beach sparked a memory, or if not an intact memory, a feeling that washed through me in an instant, and disappeared just as quickly.  It sometimes felt like the scent of french fries at the beach was just beyond my reach, and the quiet of all the nights I spent working late as a grad student were close enough to touch.  All these moments brushed past me like shy moths; the minute I'd turn to get a closer look they were off, making me wonder if they were ever really there in the first place.

Squam Art Workshops :: On Impressions

[Flowers from Squam Art Workshops June 2009, all unique and one-of-a-kind]

I’m just going to dive right in, and begin this entry with something someone said to me in one of the few quiet conversations I had at SAW.  In a discussion about blogging, marketing and the blogging community, my companion said that she had the impression that certain members of the blogging community – myself included – were part of an exclusive circle of BFFs who all knew, loved and supported each other.  I am paraphrasing, but that was the gist of it.  Her motivation for wanting to talk about this and learn more about our circle was to learn how we connect with one another and how we market and support our own and each other’s work through these connections.

Her comment stayed with me, and the thoughts I’ve been having about it since then are twofold.  One, it is disheartening that this is the impression someone has and I was happy to dispel the myth, and two, as much as I don’t want that to be the impression anyone has, I’m not at all comfortable with the idea of having to “prove” to the world that this isn’t the case.  Not to mention the fact that no matter what I say or do, people are going to believe whatever they want to believe.  This is something I have learned the hard way, that I cannot control what anyone else says, does or thinks, a truth that has taken months of focused attention to fully embrace with an open heart.  So while a year ago I might have wanted to write a post saying, “No, no, no…we’re not exclusive and we’re not all super-connected, and let me give you examples to prove my point…” right now I am instead wanting to write a post that expresses how important it is for each and every one of us in this community – which includes those of us who attend SAW - to be aware of what stories we choose to cling to.

I think it is easy to see what we want to see in any given situation, and as humans with egos we are going to gravitate towards the stories that place us in the best light possible.  I don’t say this from a place of judgment but of observation.  I do it, you do it, my husband does it; I bet even from time to time the Dalai Lama does it.  I can also state from experience that in many instances I have found the path to my truest self by observing others and seeing things I know I do not want to be.  For most of my life I saw myself in these situations as better than the other person, as in, “I’ll never do that or be like that.”  That’s right – judgmental, egotistic, arrogant.  What I have been challenging myself to do in recent years is to instead observe my own reactions to someone else’s behavior and look at why that reaction is happening, and from there, if I come to see that their behavior is something I do not want to replicate, I say “Thank you for the lesson,” and move on.  This is sometimes easier said than done, as I’m clearly not the Dalai Lama, but I have to say that the more I see my “adversaries” – or anyone who does things differently than I do - as my teachers, the better I feel.  For me, it is all about living my life in a way that is meaningful, and letting everyone around me do the same in their own way.  I can learn all kinds of things from observing the behavior of others, but I need to be careful about clinging to and creating stories that only serve to boost my ego.

How does all of this relate to SAW?  I think it is worth sharing in this series of SAW posts because I am well aware of the impressions, fears, and anxieties some people have of the group dynamics of this gathering.  And I’m not here to try to prove to anyone that they don’t exist, I’m wanting to express how important it is I think anyone attending SAW do four things:

*  Keep expectations to a minimum.

*  Come as you are and be as you are.  Nothing more, nothing less.

*  Remember that no one knows everything there is to know about another human being.  We all go to New Hampshire with our own mixed bag of desires, needs and energy levels, and impressions don’t = truth.  They’re just impressions.

*   Ask for what you want.  This, I know, is not always easy, but it was the only piece of advice I gave my companion that I think was truly helpful.  I explained to her that anyone I know (or know of) who has organized shows, retreats, and events, written books, and created close connections with fellow bloggers has done so by simply putting it out in the world and asking our community for help (or a coffee date).  There isn’t any “exclusive club”; we’re all just trying to live our lives and do something meaningful, and we are all driven by a desire to encourage others to do the same.  We’ve all created what we want in our lives by asking for what we want in a number of different ways.  In fact, this is exactly how SAW got started – Elizabeth asked teachers to teach, asked Rockywold-Deephaven Campground to host, asked people to come.  It’s just that simple.

I will share one more tiny snippet which I hope will help dispel any fears potential SAW attendees have that start with, “What will people think of me?”  I, too, came to SAW this year concerned about how certain people would see me and treat me.  (Long story).  Over the course of the weekend, my fears were completely dispelled, and I walked away from this realizing that just as I had feared some would judge me, I had judged them, projecting my anxieties onto them before we'd even met, all as a way to “defend” myself against any potential hurt.  When I was sharing this story with Marisa, she looked at me and said, “Well here’s something for you to chew on – maybe they haven’t been thinking about you as much as you think they have, if at all!”  As soon as she said this I burst out laughing, immediately seeing I had forgotten one other fundamental truth:  Other people probably have better and more interesting things to think about than me.  And this is true for everyone – with so much in our hearts and minds when we come to SAW I think it is safe to say there aren’t many of us who have enough brain space to take a look around the cafeteria, analyze everyone’s behavior, and contemplate whether or not we like it.  And this is where Elizabeth’s focused, passionate intention comes into play:  SAW does not attract that kind of energy, so even if it manages to sneak in under the radar, it is quickly extinguished because it has nothing to feed on.

We all come to SAW wanting the same things:  To be creative, to meet and see friends, to enjoy the environment, to feel safe, to let go of worrying about cooking and cleaning, to miss our families, to feel good.  How these needs get met is going to look different for each and every one of us, and that is what makes SAW beautiful.  There are no requirements to be anything other than who you are and this, I believe, is SAW’s greatest gift.

>>>>>THURSDAY GIVE AWAY:  A 6x8 wall art plaque from The Christine Mason Miller Collection, shown below.  Enter a comment to enter the drawing!

Yesterday's winner is the Enchanting Tara!  Send me an email Tara to claim your goodies!

Squam Art Workshops :: On Roles

During high school and college, my Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays were always spent at the same place:  Honeybaked Ham.  If you're not familiar with HH, it is (or at least was back in the day) the go-to spot for holiday hams.  Our local store always had lines wrapping around the block in November and December, so my friends and I had a reliable source for extra cash during breaks from school.  I worked at HH for many years, and during that time I had every possible job available in the store.  I eventually reached the coveted spot of bookkeeper, but only after climbing up the ranks from my first position as "ham pusher", which involved bundling up and working in the refrigerator pushing hams up to the front of the shelves that opened up to the retail counter.  I worked the deli counter, arranged party trays, re-stocked sauces, wrapped hams, and took phone orders.  If HH had merit badges, I'd have walked away with a sash full of them.

I am beginning to feel the same way about Squam Art Workshops (SAW).  I have been at all three events and at each have played a variety of different roles.  I have been a student and a guest speaker, sold my wares at vendor night and taught.  I've volunteered, moderated a panel discussion, made signs, written up name tags, hauled boxes, and assisted with check-in.  I am committed to SAW, I believe in SAW, and once I make up my mind to give my energy to something, I go all out, which explains why, after all three events, I've returned home wanting to do nothing more than sleep for a week.

Over the past week or so since I've been back home, I have been thinking a lot about my role at SAW, and feel fortunate to have so many different experiences to look to for guidance on what I really want to do there.  On the one hand, it is part of my nature to try to take on as much as I can, and this September's event was no exception.  And I don't regret going for it the way I did, even though at the end of it I was running on fumes.  Because although I was physically and mentally drained, I was emotionally full, my only unfulfilled desire being a wish for more time - for stillness, for meeting new people, for walks in the woods.

I am now taking an inventory of everything I've done at SAW and challenging myself to take on less at next year's events.  Not because I don't want to give SAW my all, but because I recognize that 99% of my energy is sent outward when I am there, and I would like to bring that down a notch.  I went to this September's events with a number of different intentions and goals, and I am happy to say most of them were fulfilled.  I am proud of this, but also see that it is time for me to start playing with the idea of fewer goals and an intention of greater balance.  I don't yet know what that will look like, but when I think about my role at SAW next year, this is what is on my mind.

It is hard in a situation like SAW not to want to do it all, take in as much as possible and feel like there is a herculean standard that must be lived up to in order to make the experience worthwhile.  The experience of SAW has been built up like nothing I've ever seen thanks to all the gushing blog posts - which SAW deserves, absolutely - and I think it can be hard to go into it without certain expectations.  I think it is also easy to see what one wants to see when there, and entirely possible for pre-conceived notions to shape the way the weekend unfolds for each of us (more on this tomorrow). 

All that said, my goal now is to let go of trying to do it all and make choices.  I need to choose what to let go of, what to say no to, and what to invite into my SAW experiences.  It is not possible to sculpt what I want into a perfectly finished idea that I can carry in my suitcase; whatever plans I make or intentions I set will be thrown off kilter by one thing or another.  That is the nature of anything in life - I plan, things change, I adapt.  And then, before I know it, whatever imaginings I've held in my heart for months will play themselves out (or not) and then it will be over, and I'll be back home again to dream a new dream, and start planning for the next gathering.

>>>>>WEDNESDAY GIVE AWAY:  Free Stationery Set!  Enter a comment and the winner will be announced tomorrow.  

Yesterday's winner is the divine Leah!  Drop me a line Leah so I can send you your LOOT!