the magic of hands

Well, actually, I have been writing, just not here. Poems and such. More on that some other time. The matter at hand is that, quite simply, I’ve spent a good month rearranging the furniture of my daily living, so to speak, and energy is now flowing differently  through many rooms. My studio, for example.

I actually about dreamt this months ago, a lovely dream wherein I had a spacious apartment in New York, and I had rearranged all my furniture, and gotten new pieces. The most memorable was a massive apothecary chest, worn with use and time, which stretched from the table where it sat to nearly touching the high ceiling. Curiously in writing this I described it first as an alchemist’s chest, and though I’m not sure if such a piece of furniture exists, I’ll gladly take that rendition of the piece.

As part of this waking-life rearrangement, I’ve serendipitously acquired a new tool for time management, the Autofocus System, which balances both the rational list-making mind and the intuitive energy-sensing mind. You can read all about it on Mark Forster’s website, as he is the man behind the magic. But I’ll give a quick synopsis of how it works here.

Basically, it’s a big list. Everything you need to do, right there in one lined, regular-sized notebook. For some people it would probably make sense to have a “home” notebook and a “work” notebook, but since I work at home such an approach really won’t work for me. Anytime you think of something you need to do, you just add it to the end of the list. So meditate might be right there next to change out cat litter. But also on the list will be creative and recreational activities—just whatever comes into that sweet meadow of your mind.

This next part is really the fun part. Because first you review the list, a page at a time: first scanning it, and then considering each item on the list. And you wait for something to click. You’re waiting for the feeling that this item is the thing to do now. You put a little dot by it, and get busy. If you work on it for a little while and feel the energy waning, you cross it off your list and write it again at the bottom of your list. This works well for me on so many levels. If I only have so long to work on a task, that’s okay, it’s still there, on my list, and I can come back to it whenever I am ready for it. Also, larger tasks are naturally broken down into manageable little blocks. Such a difference this makes for me, as I get overwhelmed so easily!

There’s another part of the process, whereby you dismiss tasks that have been sitting for too long. Instead of dismissing one item at a time, however, you dismiss an entire page, so whatever items are still left on it are simply marked with a highlighter, and that’s it. You are done with a page.

If you are interested in actually using the Autofocus system, please visit Mr. Forster’s website. He has a video there, and written instructions that explain in detail the system he has developed.

Coming Soon: a new website, a painting in progress, and some words (or more likely, a lot of words) on the balancing act of homeschool and creative work.

Perhaps it is a number of things that keep me mired in a funk. I try to do all the right things: I write down my dreams, I journal, I meditate. I paint through the heat of the day. Still by late afternoon I am in a minor rage of poisonous thoughts. I sedate myself with a movie, and then consider the very real possibility that there are other factors that might be adding to my…what shall we call it….vicious self-criticism? Unrelenting doubt? Evil cycle of procrastination? Dark funk of the creative heart? Whatever I might call it, I’ve been here before, it’s no fun, and I’m ready for it to end.

I’ve had no real kitchen space for over a week. Making a cup of tea is a ridiculous orchestration of gathering the tea kettle from one space, the tea from another, the mug, the cream, the honey, all in assorted places, coming together at the grill, where the sauce-simmering-eye provides ready heat. We are having kitchen cabinets built. It will be marvelous. Right now it’s kinda lame.

Then there is the heat. The hot humid combo makes me snarl. My children wrap their arms around me and I peel them off with a yucky face. My son, being the darling ten-year-old that he is, sees this as the opportune time to give me more hugs.

But these things can’t be the cause of the dark funk of my creative heart. I know this. So I write and I paint, then swear and curse and look out at the pink thunderheads of the evening with jaded eyes. I must persevere. Trudge through the mud.

I give myself a challenge. A 30 day challenge: I’ll draw one sacred geometry design every day. Some of these I’ll paint, most will probably never make it that far. Who’s to know the reasoning for this? I won’t pretend I have some grand premise motivating me. I’ve barely any motivation at all. Just a slim bit of steeliness. There’s probably nothing but time and a good pair of boots to get me through this. And maybe too I just want to prove to myself that I have some discipline. That I can commit myself to something simple and beautiful for one month. My compass is at the ready for the morning.

From my bedroom window I can hear the spring filling our reservoir, a content gurgle of water. The katydids chant, and occasionally the screech owl’s call wavers and lilts through the darkness. Not a screech, not even close, but a haunting night flute that collects my thoughts in its web of sound and takes me elsewhere.

It’s a fine summer night. Tomorrow will be hot and luscious and we will eat peaches off our trees and swim again in the river. Maybe it will rain again on my laundry, the clouds attempting to temper my happiness.

Happiness. Such a fickle thing, even when one has every reason in the world to indulge in it! But it seems that I’ve found my way back to it, with a little dedication to my creative practice. Just the tiniest bit! What would happen if I never wavered in my practice?

I would like to find out.

Do you ever feel like you are tromping through thick mud? You remember a time just a short while ago when things fell easily into place. You were eager. You felt your own power, your place in the world. Now, not so much. At all. Things are not desperate, these are not dark times, (which often hold their own pearls of light after all). No, it’s more like a sky of high gray clouds that never rain. After a few days your head feels muddled. Only I’ve been muddled for what seems like weeks now, and I’ve begun to get a bit exasperated with it, bored with my own excuses.

Excuses for neglecting my creative work. I know I am not alone here. We mothers are naturally, perhaps even biologically, inclined to sacrifice vital parts of ourselves for our families. Some of us. I do see others that amaze me with their creative discipline an accomplishments. Sometimes, like say earlier this week, I spread a little blame around to family members (saying my marriage has more traditional gender roles than I’d like, or that my kids require more supervision and direction from me than they actually really do), but in the end I’ll take the blame for it. I know it’s only fair and after all it’s really more empowering to acknowledge that I am choosing this for myself. That’s something I can change.

On the backdrop of my own malaise, however, is the exciting prospect of our road trip to Glacier National Park. We are leaving within ten days! I’ve made packing lists and lists of what needs to be done before we go (which is a lot, because not only are the peaches hanging like fuzzy orange lanterns from the trees, begging to be harvested, but the tomatoes are also considering other states besides green. And we’ve been getting rain and hot hot sun). So I’ll be a busy little bee, humming along. There’s something very exciting about taking a big trip. It certainly seems to stir things up a bit, and it helps me see the end to the trail of mud I’m squelching through. Between traveling and reinstating some key daily practices (writing, meditating, moving), I think you’ll be hearing from me very soon.