The War of Art.

“Are you a born writer? Were you put on earth to be a painter, a scientist, an apostle of peace? In the end the question can only be answered by action.

Do or don’t do it.

It may help to think of it this way. If you were meant to cure cancer or write a symphony or crack cold fusion and you don’t do it, you not only hurt yourself, even destroy yourself. You hurt your children. You hurt me. You hurt the planet.

You shame the angels who watch over you and you spite the Almighty, who created you and only you with your unique gifts, for the sole purpose of nudging the human race one millimeter farther along its path back to God.

Creative work is not a selfish act or a bid for attention on the part of the actor. It’s a gift to the world and every being in it.

Don’t cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you’ve got.”

— Steven Pressfield, The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles

This has been added to my Top 5 books list.

This entire weekend I've been submersed in amazing musical and artistic talent.  After watching the incredible actors performing

Fiddler On the Roof

on Friday and the mesmerizing performance of Mona Golabek in

The Pianist of Willesden Lane,

it is clear that the world is more beautifully expressed when everyone follows their own creative call.

Right now I'm loving Pressfield's book…get yourself a copy and armor up.

I can't wait to see what you've got.

Beyond What I Know.

First hike up Castle Rock

Last night's beautiful sunset at Point Isabel

“I love going out of my way, beyond what I know, and finding my way back a few extra miles, by another trail, with a compass that argues with the map…nights alone in motels in remote western towns where I know no one and no one I know knows where I am, nights with strange paintings and floral spreads and cable television that furnish a reprieve from my own biography, when in Benjamin’s terms, I have lost myself though I know where I am. Moments when I say to myself as feet or car clear a crest or round a bend, I have never seen this place before. Times when some architectural detail or vista that has escaped me these many years says to me that I never did know where I was, even when I was home.”

— Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost

Decadently Delightful.

As much as I love words, some of the best art contains none of them.

Someone described this as "decadently delightful," and I couldn't agree more.

Colors.

I am sitting in my hairdresser's chair, hair freshly washed, and hold the book in my lap. I flip through it, examining the various colors and my split-second associations. So many colors, so many options. I settle for an in-between color that is both subtle enough for the workplace yet shines lighter in the sunshine. I'm happy with it.

I pull out my snack, and it is a glorious burgundy color. Just chewing it makes me feel love. If I was a fruit, I'd want to be this brilliant color. Its rich hue puts white bread and white pasta to shame.

Dried dragonfruit. Exotic. Colorful. Delicious.

I drive and notice the pastel colors of the sunset, and how it is both soft and magnificent at the same time- strong blues, subtle oranges and pinks spread across the sky. I realize how much of my world, my mood, my pleasures- are dictated by the colors that surround me. I've worn red when I've felt confident, as well as black when I've just wanted to blend in and not be seen. Guilty as charged.

And in thinking about this, it challenged me to ask myself, as well as you- In a world with no color, only black and white, how would you stand out?

Fresh Air.

“Sometimes, I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed.”

— Mary Oliver

#aftertherain #poetryinmotion

Trailblazer.

“Here’s the truth that you have to wrestle with: the reason that art (writing, engaging, leading, all of it) is valuable is precisely why I can’t tell you how to do it. If there were a map, there’d be no art, because art is the act of navigating without a map. Don’t you hate that? I love that there’s no map.”

— Seth Godin, Linchpin: Are You Indispensable?

When I saw this at Point Reyes, I went the opposite way. #trailblazer

The Type-A part of me that secretly loves structure and to-do lists and schedules to follow is constantly at odds with the artist/creator side of myself that loves the words freedom and flow and feels stifled by timelines and objective goals.

It's all about balance, I suppose. I'm learning this on a daily basis- that there is always more than one way to approach a problem, to find another solution, to course-correct and overcome the inevitable obstacles that present themselves on the path. I'm learning to let go of what I've trusted (structure), and navigate without a map. 

It's hard. But here's the honest truth- I was never good at reading maps anyways.

Trudging Along.

“So when we write and begin with an empty page and a heart unsure, a famine of thoughts, a fear of no feeling- just begin from there, from that electricity. This kind of writing is uncontrolled, is not sure where the outcome is, and it begins in ignorance and darkness. But facing those things, writing from that place, will eventually break us and open us to the world as it is. Out of this tornado of fear will come a genuine writing voice.”

— Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within

Spotted on the stairs of Berkeley Bowl West. Advice for both life and writing.

Arranging the Pieces.

“Arrange whatever pieces come your way.”

— Virginia Woolf

Diving into the steamy pool as the clock hits 6am means only one thing- my writing time (morning pages) and meditation have been shifted even earlier, to an ungodly hour that starts with a 4. But I've been consistently doing both of these long enough in the morning to understand their inherent value, and skipping any one of the two, or even both (gasp!) is unthinkable. I'm thankful I've developed them into my morning routine that they are now as habitual as brushing my teeth and lotioning up after a shower.

I'm listening, a lot. Propped up with my pillow behind my back, legs crossed, with sleepy eyes and the covers shrouding my open palms, I'll just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. I find it interesting how ideas will just drop into me, stay for awhile. And I'll notice them, tuck them away, and focus again on my breath. In. Out. In. Out.

From a bird's eye view of the past few months, I am fascinated how people, situations, and opportunities have emerged in the most exciting and creative of ways. Lots of pieces, different shapes and colors and textures, and here I am taking whatever it is that shows up in my life, and arranging it in such a way that best fulfills my dharma in this big and beautiful world.

It would be just as easy to take those same pieces and say, "It's impossible," or "I can't do that," or blame the economy, other people, or come up with a million different excuses to keep myself from fulfilling my destiny. But perhaps it's the inner artist in me that sees these independent pieces and wants to fit them together in a creative and meaningful way- one that will ultimately be of service to those around me.

This same approach applies in the kitchen. Yesterday I looked at the kabocha squash resting on the counter, noticed the kale in the fridge staring me straight in the eyes, the $3 organic red bell pepper begging me not to go to waste, and the forbidden black rice greeting me as I opened my top cupboard door. So I took those pieces and arranged them together in one of the most delicious meals.

Roasted kabocha squash stuffed with forbidden black rice, wild rice, kale, onions, red bell peppers and shiitake mushrooms.

How are you arranging the pieces in your life?

Treading versus Swimming.

“Promise me you will not spend so much time treading water and trying to keep your head above the waves that you forget, truly forget, how much you have always loved to swim.”

— Tyler Knott Gregson

Sunrise swim lessons in life.

Today was an extremely full day, so I knew what I had to do this morning- head straight to the pool for some active meditation. There's something so calming and womb-like about the water pre-dawn, when only the pool lights illuminate your arm stroke and the remnant stars greet you when you flip over and swim backstroke. This quote came to mind as I was swimming, anticipating the day ahead and realizing that it would be busy- yes- but filled with all the things that I had invited into my life and wanted to build.

When life is brimming over with activity, it's easy to feel as though you're drowning…but remember that you are constantly curating your own life, and at the end of the day, if you're following your passion, it becomes easier to find your rhythm and glide towards your destination.

And just like in the pool, I know that relaxing into it versus thrashing around, is the more sustainable, long-term, preferred way to move across the water.  I'm hoping that even in the future when 'busy' starts to boil over, I'll always opt for the smooth and graceful stroke above water. And I'll be sure to occasionally flip on my back once in awhile to enjoy the view of the glimmering stars.

That Smile.

“It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving, but like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

Las Trampas sunrise...

Lately I've realized that as I walk down the street and pass strangers, I naturally smile, unaware that I'm actually smiling, until they reciprocate with a genuinely happy smile. My lips turn up into an even wider grin for such a beautiful and free exchange of unsolicited love.

Someone once told me that outside Oprah's makeup room hangs a sign that says, "Please take responsibility for the energy that you bring into this space." All life is energy and we are transmitting it at each second. We are all beaming signals like little radio frequencies, and the world is responding in kind. I believe this, and it applies not only for a make-up room, but for all the rooms in our lives. 

As Preston Smiles (no pun intended) would ask, "What would love do in this moment?"

It's always a good question to ponder. And while you're thinking about that, smile. It makes the world a sunnier place.

Casting Out the Line.

Seen from my climb today up Calaveras...

After an amazing solo bike ride (Oh, how I've missed you, mid-week miles!), I called my dad to ask him what he wanted to eat for his birthday dinner that I'm hosting on Saturday. I'd already heard from the rest of the peanut gallery what they wanted to eat, so I wanted to go straight to the Source, the Birthday Boy himself. He was fishing, so I got his voicemail, left my message and ended it with, "I hope you caught a lot of fish!!" He called me back a little while later, and apparently he didn't catch anything. Not.even.one.fish.

Waking up before dawn, packing up the car with gear, driving out to the lake…all for what? But I know that he's had many days like today, yet he still loves fishing more than I love riding my bike, and days like today are just part of the game, unfortunately. And at the same time, days like today will not derail him.

Yesterday I attended another open mic at Pegasus Books and a handsome fellow took the seat next to me. He inquired if I was going to read, and I shyly answered, "Yes." He looked down at my hands which were holding a book.

"You're going to read from your book?" he asked.

"Oh, gosh no, this is a book that I just bought," I stammered. "I'm reading this…" I wave a folded-up piece of white paper.

Today on my bike ride, I found, as I always do- that when the legs spin, the mind spins too. It got me thinking as my heart was pumping and the wind was blowing through my hair, how thrilling- yet also so unbelievably scary- it would be to one day be holding my own published book.

Fitting, since this quote came from the book I was holding in my hand, The War of Art, by Steven Pressfield. What a necessary and appropriate tool for everyone to read.

And so, it continues. Just like my dad, my deep-seated love is what drives me each morning to wake before dawn, gather my gear, take a deep breath, and write. I can only hope that after persistently casting my line out day after day, soon enough, there will be a worthy fish on the other end.