[-writing, exercise-]

Writing takes activity. You have to write the words down on the page. Everyone knows that. But what’s going on inside as you make that effort to put a story together? Think about the issue of control and how it does or doesn’t work for you. We tend to think of energy, activity, the doing part of it as the most important. But consider another viewpoint. Here’s what Brenda Ueland says about it:

Willing is doing something you know already, something you have been told by somebody else; there is no new imaginative understanding in it. And presently your soul gets frightfully sterile and dry because you are so quick, snappy and efficient about doing one thing after another that you have not time for your own ideas to come in and develop and gently shine.

In this spirit, here’s a daydreaming exercise to foster the idea of letting go so that you can dream something up rather than just jotting something down.

Sit in front of your computer. Look at the keyboard for a few moments. Put your fingers on the keys and type a sentence. Type ANYTHING.
For example:

your thoughts:
• I am typing a sentence.
• This is a stupid exercise.
• I hate this.
• What am I doing this for?

whatever comes into your head, no matter how weird:

• Dogs with feathers would create nests in their sleep.
• Wallpaper hides cracks and peels when it’s old.
• My teeth might crumble before I die.

the most random nonsense you can come up with:
• Jumbled crossover blinks always allay floods.
• Accessing liverwurst can be the answer to pink socks.
• Everyone jousts because the ghostly phone didn’t ring.

Now here’s the hard part. As soon as you’ve put the period on your sentence, delete it.

As fast as you can, type something else.

Delete that.

Keep doing it for at least ten minutes, more if you can tolerate it.

Now begin your writing for the day.

This exercise does three important things:

1. It loosens your mind by making flighty associations and spurring imaginative juxtapositions on the page
2. It clears the mind of the top layer of dry, tired dirt so that the underlying fertile soil is available to you
3. It provides practice in letting go of words.
   This is a valuable lesson for a writer because we all tend to love what comes out of us. Our words are our babies and we don’t like to make them disappear once they are on the paper. But we have to know how as well as when to delete. This will help.

[-tutorial, photography, alterations-]

by Maureen Shaughnessy

I collect images, mostly with my own camera, but also from old manuscripts, ephemera, found objects, cultural flotsam and jetsam. Sometimes I do digital collage, other times I work with paper, paint, drawing tools and glue in 2 dimensions or I make 3-d mixed media sculptures. I work in layers, often more than 20 or 30 layers, as I am trying to create something with visual, symbolic and spiritual depth. The stories of the objects I use are glued into the collage layers. Emotions, connections, poetry, unspoken words, events, songs, dreams and spiritual meaning are embedded in there too. Often the layering will only be apparent on a subtle level. What’s important to me is that I know the layers are underneath somewhere, giving the piece personal depth and intimacy.

When I’m looking at one of my own layered collages or someone else’s, I tend to judge it based on first my emotional response, then on the craftsmanship of the execution and finally based on some intellectual understanding of the piece. Sometimes I want my work to be wild and spontaneous and passionate. Other times I’m aiming for an almost cool control, which in itself can convey an experience or an emotion as effectively as a more passionate piece. It’s hard to say what makes a layered piece “work” for me. It’s intuitive. Can I connect with something the artist was trying to say? Or does it leave me cold? Really, it’s such a personal thing … one viewer may respond to a piece that another person thinks is inferior.

Here’s a little about my altered photograph, “Ghost Root Tapestry.” The main image I used was of the lower trunk of a tree. When I first saw the tree, the roots looked like they were twining together in a Celtic knot shape. I have some background in fiberarts and weaving, and I thought of trying to bring out this aspect of the roots – that they were threaded and knotted together, not only around each other, but around the rocks and pebbles on the lake shore and down into the earth, around the leaves and soil and micro-organisms that live down there. I wanted to make something that looked like a tapestry, like threads and cords and knots, textural and subtle and fine.

I used Photoshop to alter the tree roots photo by blending it with a photo of the frozen lake surface and another, of branches against sky. I choose photos based on their dominant shapes, lines and textures. For example, to create the look of a tapestry, I needed lots of texture, so I chose photos with lots of different line weights and shapes going on. The different textures of these three photos contribute to the feeling of woven cloth. Likewise, if I had been going for a minimalist feeling, I might have chosen only photos with simple shapes and few lines.

After I played around with the colours and blended the three main photos, I rotated multiple copies of the image and blended many layers to make something like a tapestry with the appearance of depth and criss-crossing threads. I like that it’s not perfectly symmetrical … very much like my actual woven tapestries used to turn out.

This series of altered photos is in a set I call “Dead of Winter.” Sometimes I come up with a title for a series that almost contradicts how I really feel about the subject of the series. Yet to me, it fits. I hope the title makes people stop and read it twice, to puzzle out why I might have chosen those words.

In this case, “dead” is the opposite of what I think winter is. Winter is very much alive – it is just sleeping; it is the Earth dreaming, growing secretly underground, holding the light of short winter days in her heart, in her belly, holding it in until everything is ready to leap out again, be born, and come back to the warmth and the air and the green. It is a time for meditation, concentration, inner-focus, silence and dreams and spiritual contemplation. With that in mind, I tried to bring out the subtle, quiet spirit of leafless trees, frozen water, and strong, connected roots. Not all of the photos in this set are altered. In fact, some are just as they came out of my camera. But they all belong together because of the thread of winter-quiet.

All images: © 2005 - 2007 Maureen Shaughnessy all rights reserved | see the entire “Dead of Winter” set on flickr | see more of Maureen’s altered photos on flickr | Maureen’s blog

Other articles in The PCQ by Maureen Shaughnessy:
The Thread of Winter-Quiet: images.
Doodles from Maureen’s sketchbook

about the artist:
Maureen is a: landscape designer . artist . gardener . writer . companion to her soul mate . mom . daughter . sister . friend . independent sort . lover of nature music animals plants beauty sunlight&darkness. Maureen lives in Helena, Montana. She is working on a personal website but is almost too much of a perfectionist to finish. She likes to quote da Vinci, “art is never finished, only abandoned.”

Originally published as cover art on the January 2006 issue of The Practically Creative Quarterly, theme: alterations

[-photography, digital images, photo essay-]

words and images by Maureen Shaughnessy

“cloud ice earth dancers”

Life is filled with mundane happenings and objects we take for granted.

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[-cartoon-]

The Adventures of Ohmiomyo and Karma

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[-cartoon-]

The Adventures of Ohmiomyo and Karma

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[-cartoon-]

The Adventures of Ohmiomyo and Karma

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[-cartoon-]

The Adventures of Ohmiomyo and Karma

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[-photo essay-]

compiled and written by Nancy S.M. Waldman

[-gardening article-]

Planting a garden is work full of hope and joyful expectation. If it’s time to plant seedlings where you are, this article will inspire you and help you to enjoy the fruits of your labours.

by guest contributor, Sherry D. Ramsey

As gardeners, we all share some of the joys that growing things can bring: the thrill when that speck of green pokes up, signaling an awakened seed; that heady raw earth smell when the soil is turned for the first time in spring; the burgeoning splashes of color as the garden fulfills its springtime promise. Walking the garden, reveling in our successes, and fetching a breath of that intoxicating scent of flower and earth and sun make all our hard work worthwhile.

But there are other, out-of-the-ordinary ways to enjoy the garden that many of us miss in the practical rounds of weeding and watering, pruning and cultivating. Here are a few simple suggestions for delving deeper and discovering the heart and soul of your garden this summer.

• 1. Make a point of observing your garden at different times during the day.

The dew-spangled garden just at dawn (or at least early morning) is different from the sun-swollen mid-afternoon garden, and a distinct experience again in a cool, misty twilight. Nothing compares to the magic of the garden limned by the silvered fingers of a full moon.

• 2. Walk your garden in different weather situations.

Most of us enjoy the garden on a sunny afternoon, but don’t miss its wild, tossed beauty in a windstorm or the deepening greens and cool wet scents of the garden in the rain.

• 3. Don’t just stroll in your garden.

Grab a blanket, stool, or lawn chair and settle yourself close to a flower bed. Now watch the interplay of blossoms, insects, breezes and birds. Observe each petal and leaf in its unique relationship to the plant as a whole. How many color variations are there in a single bloom? A single leaf?

• 4. While you’re sitting there, close your eyes for a few minutes and listen.

The drone of nectar-laden bees, the rustle of foliage, the background of birdsong, the skittering of insects through the grass, maybe even the swift whir of a hummingbird– they’re all part of your garden, too.

• 5. Display a big spray of cut flowers in your garden–they’re not just for inside the house.

Cut flower bouquets allow you to bring together blooms that can’t grow together because of conflicting light, water and soil requirements. The resulting combinations can lend a whole new dimension of beauty to your garden, and a lovely focal point for a patio, deck or gazebo.

• 6. Sprinkle your garden with tiny lights at night, for just pennies.

Tea light candles set in empty glass jars (Mason jars are excellent) weave a flickering path of beauty through the nighttime garden. Watch how flower colors mute and blend by candlelight as the garden takes on an entirely new persona.

• 7. Finally, keep a journal of your garden.

Not just the prosaic facts on planting and blooming dates, plant performance and propagation notes. Weave in your thoughts and observations as you follow the suggestions in this article. How did the garden look in the rain or at dawn? What made it different by candle- or moonlight? How did it sound? Did you learn anything new from your observations? Don’t forget to note down how the garden looked on special days throughout the summer–birthdays, anniversaries, family visits, holidays. Your garden journal will make great winter reading when the garden is sleeping and you’re curled up in your living room, browsing through seed catalogs and dreaming of spring.

The great gift of a garden is that it delights all of our senses. With a little creative thinking, it can delight the spirit and soul as well.

© 2005 - 2007 Sherry D. Ramsey, all rights reserved

About the author:
Sherry writes speculative fiction. She’s published many short stories and her newest SF novel, “One’s Aspect to the Sun” was recently awarded second place in the 28th Annual Atlantic Writing Competition’s novel category, the H.R. (Bill) Percy Prize. She’s also the author of many essays and articles especially on the craft of writing. She is the publisher and editor of the highly successful Scriptorium Webzine for Writers. You can read all about Sherry at her author’s website www.sherrydramsey.com.

Be sure to read Sherry’s other works in The PCQ.
short story
- Accidents Happen
poetry
- UPLOAD
- I, Galaxy

Originally published in the April 2005 issue of The Practically Creative Quarterly, theme: inspiration

[-essay, parenting-]

What do yoga, Carlos Castañeda and being a loving, effective parent have to do with knowing who and where and what you are? Read this great essay to find out.

Playing the edge, finding one’s spot and being one’s true self

by guest essayist, Joe McCarthy

I recently attended a four-class parenting seminar on Love and Logic, wonderfully facilitated by Cindy Horst. The three “rules” of Love and Logic are:

1. Take care of yourself by setting limits in a loving way
2. Give choices whenever it’s reasonable.
3. Let empathy and consequences do the teaching.

Throughout the classes, parents were encouraged to stretch to allow children to experience more consequences directly, enabling them to fail early and often, rather than being protected or rescued from those consequences. There is much to be gained by moving out of our comfort zone, but stopping short of real pain. Cindy notes that the Love and Logic principles can be used not only by parents interacting with their children, but in school and the workplace as well.

I see these principles as applying equally well to my interactions with my self.

This notion of stretching to the edge of our comfort zone reminded me of the concept of “playing the edge” that Erich Schiffman describes in his wonderful book “Yoga: The Spirit and Practice of Moving Into Stillness”. Reviewing the highlighted passages in my copy of the book revealed close alignment with some of the concepts taught by Don Miguel Ruiz in “The Four Agreements” and by Don Juan (via Carlos Castañeda) in “The Teachings of Don Juan”. I’ll include some relevant passages below.

On “playing the edge” (from Erich Schiffman’s book):

A large part of the art and skill in yoga lies in sensing just how far to move into a stretch … This place in the stretch is called your “edge.” The body’s edge in yoga is the place just before pain, but not the pain itself … Sensing where your edges are and learning to hold the body there with awareness, moving with its often subtle shifts, can be called “playing the edge.”

One of the things you learn in yoga is to enjoy working with intensity. Intensity is simply more “energy” at any given moment, more feeling … Yoga can teach you to enjoy and learn from a broader range of experience. It will encourage you to seek out and process more intensity … Skill in yoga involves creating the perfect amount of intensity — not too much, not too little.

The real key to depth in postures is going slowly, making sure you have thoroughly opened your early edges … Proceed slowly, edge by edge and gate by gate … Respect your tight edges. Work with them sensitively. Lure them to greater openness.

Never be in a place you don’t want to be. If you do not like it, change it. Adjust. Find the degree of stretch you can totally immerse yourself in … Never fight yourself.

This last part reminds me of Don Juan’s notion of finding one’s spot (via Carlos Castañeda’s book):

Finally he told me that there was a way, and proceeded to create a problem. He pointed out that I was very tired sitting on the floor, and that the proper thing to do was to find a “spot” (sitto) on the floor where I could sit without fatigue. I had been sitting with my knees up against my chest and my arms locked around my calves. When he said I was tired, I realized that my back ached and that I was quite exhausted.

I waited for him to explain what he meant by a “spot,” but he made no overt attempt to elucidate the point. I thought that perhaps he meant that I should change positions, so I got up and sat closer to him. He protested my movement and clearly emphasized that a spot meant a place where a man could feel naturally happy and strong. He patted the place where he sat and said it was his own spot, adding that he had posed a riddle I had to solve by myself without any further deliberation.

Finally, re-reading the opening chapter of Schiffmann’s book reminded of the concept of mitote in Ruiz’ book:

Your mind is a dream where a thousand people talk at the same time and no one understands each other. Everything you believe about yourself and the world, all the concepts and programming you have in your mind, are all the mitote. We cannot see who we truly are; we risk to be alive and express what we really are.

Schiffman addresses this issue of who we are - and who we are not - and suggests that yoga can provide a way to discover and experience our true selves:

Yoga is a way of moving into stillness in order to experience the truth of who you are … From very early on, a fundamental conflict was introduced into our psyches revolving around this basic and most important issue: Who am I, really? And because we were not encouraged to find out for ourselves, we believed what other people told us. The result is that we feel guilty, ashamed, embarrassed, and confused about who we are. We feel judged … [Yoga teaches you to] turn your attention inward and focus on yourself. Focus on what it feels like to be you. Experience you.

One of the things I like about Love and Logic is that it encourages children to be who they really are. Rather than trying so hard to control children, the program points to a path through which children can more naturally unfold to be their true selves, with gentle guidance and support from their parents. This approach resonates with me, and I will try to apply it as best I can. And, regardless of how this affects my children, I plan to get up extra early tomorrow to have more time to find my spot, play my edge … and experience being me.

about the author:
Joe McCarthy’s mission is to help people relate to one another. He has played the edges of academia and industry, and is currently moving out of his comfort zone and opening up to the intensity of a new entrepreneurial path aligned with this mission. More about Joe’s entrepreneurial aspirations can be found at interrelativity.com; other dimensions of his journey can be found on his blog: gumption.typepad.com. This article is a slightly revised version of this one originally published on his blog.

illustration from the yellow woman series by nancy sm waldman © 2005 - 2007 all rights reserved

Published with the permission of the author in the April 2005 issue of The Practically Creative Quarterly, theme: inspiration