Observations upon returning from Squam

morning fog on Squam Lake, Holderness, New Hampshire

• My fight or flight instinct is stronger than I realized. I tend to want to jump ship as soon as I get frustrated. (Thankfully, my painting teacher talked me through it and kept me from ripping up my painting and fleeing for the safety of my cabin.)
• I loved being around so many artsy women and gleaning fashion tips from them. I want to start layering shirts, wearing dresses over jeans, piling on the necklaces, wearing my hair in pigtails (which I did), and being just as fun and funky as I've always secretly wanted to be been, without worrying that anyone will think I look "weird."
• Almost everyone deals with personal doubts and gremlins.
• New Hampshire is beautiful.
• I should take bug spray with me next time.
• Several of my blog crushes know who I am!
• I underestimate myself.
  
• I now know what matte medium is and how to use it.
• Getting a cold while in the middle of the woods is not pleasant, but neither will it kill you.
  
• Having your ears completely clog on the plane is very, very, very, very frightening, especially if you're claustrophobic.
  
• Being stuck in a tiny water closet in a cabin is also very frightening.
  
• Listening to your body is some of the best medicine.
• I'm ready for Autumn.

There's so much more I could -- and should -- say about my experience at SAW, but I'm still processing. Getting sick while I was there is making it harder than usual to jump back into life after being away. But I wanted to peek in and say hello. I'm back. I'm here. The rest of me is just trying to catch up.

Where (and how) are you?

It's All Happening: Mondo Beyondo Update

heart in Union Square, San Francisco

At the beginning of the year, I wrote a retrospective on 2007 and a Mondo Beyondo Prospective for 2008. (Find out more about the Mondo Beyondo concept.) I named 2008 my year of Opportunity, Abundance, Prosperity, Plenty, and Creation, and made a list of intentions for how I want to live and what I want to do. I also named and claimed some Mondo Beyondo dreams for this year and beyond. I'm amazed and joyful and humbled and pleased to see several of them coming to fruition.

I wanted: "to start creating mixed media art and find my own path as a visual artist." Next week, I'll go to my very first art retreat, where I'll take a painting and mixed media class. I'm also taking a travel journaling class and attending the Superhero Life workshop. I'm particularly excited about this last one, as it's being taught by the Super Duper Andrea Scher of Superhero Designs. I met Andrea very briefly at the BlogHer Swap Meet this summer and can't wait to learn from her. Plus? Her lovely assistant will be Jen Gray, who I "know" through blogging and a few emails. (It's hard to know if the word "know" is really the right verb in these cases, isn't it?)

And as if that weren't enough, Jonatha Brooke will be providing camp fire music, Boho Girl Denise will be running around taking artist portraits, and Kelly Rae Roberts, one of my favorite artists, will be hosting a discussion about living the creative life.

But wait! There's more! I was serendipitously connected with Kelly Barton of Camp Indigo Soul to share a rental car between the airport and the camp. After connecting with her, I realized that she is the woman behind one of my favorite Etsy shops. And speaking of serendipity, I'll also get to meet the inspiring Liz Elayne Lamoreux of Be Present, Be Here and The Little Room Etsy shop. (Remind me to tell you the funny little story about how we "met" online.) I'm also looking forward to meeting Kirsten Michelle from In the Land of the Lovelies.

I have a feeling that once I get back from New Hampshire, I'll be gushing about all of these women and more, as well as the whole Squam experience. (fair warning!)

I wanted: "to uncover and be at peace with my decision about having a child." Although I haven't reached a decision or a place of total peace yet, I have had a major epiphany in this realm, which has helped me to understand the swirl of emotions surrounding this issue for me. I'm not ready to tell that part of my story yet, but the plot is definitely taking a few twists and turns.

I wanted: "to spend a week at a writers' retreat somewhere beautiful, comfortable, and nurturing." Earlier this year I reconnected with a writer friend from college (hi, Jamye!). Several months ago, she asked if I would be interested in joining her and some other women on a writing retreat. The details are still unfolding, but it looks like this little dream will come true the first week of November.

At least one other Mondo Beyondo dream is in the works and looks like it will become a reality. And that's just what I can see. What if all the others are unfurling in their own way and time? I don't know where my dream cottage is yet, but I'm sure it's out there.

There is more of the year behind us than in front of us, but there's always time for dreaming and scheming. What are you up to lately?

Laundry: A Poem

image by charlie cravero

I'm trying something new tonight: sharing a poem with you. Seeing this artist's rendering of dryer lint reminded me of a poem I wrote in college. The scene that unfolds in it is fictional, but feels very real to me.

I'm rather shy about sharing this with you. Poetry is like singing for me: I enjoy it, but haven't the faintest idea if I'm any good at it. With my narrative non-fiction writing, I can usually get a handle on things and decide if a piece is good, or at least passable. But my own poetry leaves me baffled. I know I like some of it, but I have no bearing beyond that. Perhaps therein lies my answer: If I like it, it's good (enough) for me.

And so, I stand up and sing in front of the world:

Laundry

The agitated sloshing of cold water Tide
Is white background noise
To accompany silent swirling snow outside.
Two chairs from the door, resplendent in purple polyester pants,
And a gold paisley shirt
Plumps a sitting woman, serious about her breathing.
Across the room, brown and stout, the change machine crouches.
A small boy, same shade as the machine, though slighter in build,
Reaches on tip-toes to feed it a limp dollar,
Laughing with accomplishment as four shiny quarters clatter
Into the curved cup.
In the corner, farthest from the windows
(Though the fluorescent lights allow no shadow)
Entwines a couple, as agitated as my washer.

A harsh buzz,
The spin cycle stops.
Time to dry.
I open the smooth white lid to towels and shirts
Stuck, wet heavy cold, to the pin-holed sides of the steel tub,
Like people pressed to the walls of that amusement park ride
Spinning wildly and the floor dropped out and your face flattened
With the pressure.

The lint in the tray is soft speckled grey:
Leftovers of some stranger's laundry.
I'd like to keep it --
Collect the lint of a hundred machines,
Weave a familiar eclectic sweater
To wear when the wind threatens my warmth.
Instead, not to look odd in front of the wheezing polyester woman
(now sucking on a soda)
I toss it away and heap
My own into the dryer.

In the corner, the couple giggles.
The little brown boy stares until
Mother reprimands,
Her arms full of kiddie clothes,
A yellow, green, and white box of fabric softener wedged between her chin and chest.
The boy spies Polyester's Mountain Dew and clamors
For more change.
Another washer shutters to a stop.
The girl of the couple swings her tight acid washed jean hips to the machine,
Peers inside, unsure of the next step.
I wonder if her man will strut to her side and save his distressed damsel;
But he just stares at her backside leaning over the open lid.

A click and a beep.
My towels are warm and fluffy,
But too worn
For a Downey advertisement.
My basket piled full of woven lint,
I set it on the orange plastic scoop chair beside me.
The smell of static-electricity,
Like metal-vegetation:
Tiny crackling sparks as I pull apart
Washcloths and socks,
Pillowcase and bathmat.
The mother drops a small pair of overalls
And the boy asks me, "Do you have a quarter?"

Lessons from the lightning bugs

video originally uploaded by fimoculous

What the fireflies teach me:

• Magic is happening all around you. (look: here. and over here. there. here and here. look.)
• Fences are artificial divisions. There is no real difference between my land and yours.
• Not all creepy crawlies are scary.
• There's always room and time to play.
• There's light in the darkness if only we can see it.
• Joy and wonder are ours for the taking and giving.
  
• Even the most ordinary-looking little thing is full of unexpected possibility.
• Whimsy is not limited to little children.
  

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

image by Haynes Photography

Dear Potential New Neighbors:

Thanks for talking to me before the real estate agent showed up. I was just out there in my backyard, battling with The Garden That Threatens To Engulf My House when you waved hello from the neighboring deck. That was nice of you.

And then you came around to the side yard and clearly wanted to converse. I have to say, I felt a bit giddy at that moment: drunk on the possibility of talking to real, live people. You see, I work from home. And today, my longest conversation with anyone outside of my cats was 30 seconds on the phone with the husband, about something that I can't even recall.

So you -- and your desire to interact -- caught me a little bit off-guard. I'm usually pretty good socially. I can hold a conversation about almost anything with almost anyone. But I was rusty tonight. So if I came off weird, please forgive me. I don't know why I felt like I had to explain the random swing set at the bottom of my yard. Well, actually, your two adorable kids are probably the reason. I didn't want anyone getting their hopes up about playing with the neighbor kids. No kids here. Just two lazy adults and one idle swing set left from the last family. And me babbling about it.

Other than that bit of rambling from me, I guess the conversation went okay. Right? Neighbor?

Yours truly,
Jennifer