Something interesting is afoot this weekend. I'm attending a beginning workshop in Shamanism. "What?" you might ask. "Does she think she's Native American?" Nope. It turns out that many cultures have shamanistic features. And, there's a "name" in shamanism--Michael Harner--he's brought shamanism . . .
I've always thought of myself as a pretty logical person, able to find the path from A to Z pretty quickly. For many years, though, that's come at the cost of imagination. It's one of the reasons I write creative nonfiction/personal essays--fiction takes imagination that I didn't think I had. So . . .
from collage by Laura Kennedy I dreamed that you bewitched me into bedAnd sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.(I think I made you up inside my head.) -Sylvia Plath Oh, such a doomed woman, but still, I love Sylvia Plath. She was doomed by her love for Ted Hughes and . . .
If you always stay in the middle of the roadwhere it's safeyou'll never offend a soul.But if you work on the edges?If you have a position? Chances are someone's gonna get pissed.It's not like we mean to offend.It's just that opinions are like butts:everyone has one.And if theirs doesn't agree with . . .
There was a day last month when people at school kept saying to me "You're so organized!" The first person to say it didn't know me at all, so clearly, someone else had told her that. I have no idea who exactly they were seeing, because one look at my office would disabuse anyone of . . .
Attribution "Oh I'm not creative" That's what I used to say."I'm left brain."Ah, but right brain, left brain-- we're all creative-- it's innate--not a special thing for chosen few. The right side of the brain,that's the place that houses that spark we call creativity. Emotions, music, . . .
Young, creative people of every generation express themselves through what they wear. I can't say that we'll look back fondly on the trend toward sagging pants and visible butt cracks, but here's an outfit that goes back almost 70 years: The zoot suit.Zoot suits had high waisted, wide-legged pants . . .
"The muse is not with me today," a man I worked for used to say. He was a writer, a good one, too. But he spent most of his days puffing cigarettes, his fingers yellow with nicotine, his feet up on his desk.(Yes, Virginia, there was a day when people smoked at work.)Waiting for the muse to strike . . .
Coco had a boatload of confidence in herself. I love that. Like most people with an artistic passion, I'm prone to the fear that my work is JUST. NOT. GOOD. ENOUGH. There. I've said it. Yeah, I know I can write. But can I WRITE? Sometimes I think I can. But other times? I worry . . .
I love the spirit of this.No self-consciousness.No conformity. No concern for appearances. Or "shoulds."Meeting the too-big or too-small expectations of others. Dancing through life is underrated, I think.Being just who you are seems to be easier than it used to be, though. . . .