Now for Something Completely Different

Where has my silliness gone? Yesterday I reread my latest posts. The topics: self-judgment, difficulty, fear, over-thinking. All important topics. All exactly where I was at the moment. Yet I've left out my happiness and childlike wonder. Life is heartbreaking, but it's also joyful.

Last night I made a different choice: take my camera, tripod, and remote shutter-release outside. Jump around. Leap, bound, play, and laugh. My first stop was the backyard--a safe place. But my neighbors were gardening or eating, and the mood felt calm not playful, so I walked to the park.

(me walking backwards, a little giddy)

The park felt festive. Families gathered. Smoke rose from grills. Children laughed. Cars drove past. I placed my tripod in a patch of sunset light next to the road. In that spot I jumped and twirled and giggled. I felt playful and free.

When we most need it--when we feel sad or angry or hurt--we forget that life is fun. We're surrounded by joy, laughter, and beauty. Sometimes we need to jump around, do the unexpected, or make our own adventures. When I'm playful, my heart opens and my thoughts subside. I see the magical world that is my life.

(me walking forwards, relaxed and happy)

I am a Wombat

My art is mainly digital: this blog and photographs on Flickr. Most of my artistic tribe consists of online friends. And then I found the Wombats, a group--born just four months ago--of local artists. A group of talented, interesting, welcoming people. 

Here's what I love: we meet in person, share ideas, give hugs, drink beer, laugh, and support each other. And together we're hosting a pop-up gallery, "Signs of Life." We transformed an empty storefront into a space for art--both static and interactive. A space that exists for only four days. 

There's been a whirlwind of activity and many helping hands. It's an event for the community, put on by the community--a community of wombats. Tonight is the opening. I'm excited, nervous, exhausted, and extremely grateful. 

PS: Are you a Wombat, too? Creativity and art take many forms. Everyone is welcome.

PPS: I hung an interactive exhibit of my self-portraits: "Caption the Image." Stay tuned for more.

Post-opening-night update: Last night was magical. Many people came and more importantly, they engaged with the art. They interacted with music, art, and each other. I'll ride that wonderful energy for days.

Why I Choose to Garden

I resisted gardening. As a teen, I wanted to play sports and hang with my friends, not pick strawberries or dig up weeds. (Sorry, Dad. In hindsight, that garden was really great.) As an adult, while my closest friends found contentment in their gardens, I held back. I told myself the story that gardening wasn't for me. My main points of contention: I would start from scratch and make mistakes (perhaps look like an idiot); my yard is huge and the project too big; I'd get hot, sweaty, and dirty (and yet not get a workout--or so was my thinking at the time). Basically, I was stuck in a cycle of perfectionism; I didn't want to try something if I might fail. (Actually, I didn't want to try something unless I knew I'd excel. That was a very constricted place to live.)

But I gained more life tools and experiences, and in that process I gained more wisdom and confidence. Then I didn't mind making mistakes--in fact, that's where I learn the most. Five years ago I began my garden experiment, which continues today. Now I receive great fulfillment and restoration while digging in the dirt. All I needed to do was try.

The Top Ten Reasons Why I Garden:

10. I get to play in the dirt. This brings out my inner-child--the younger one, not the teen that didn't like pulling weeds.

9. I'm surrounded by beauty. Oh, how I love flowers: love the plants, love the buds, love the blooms, love the colors.

8. I get practice with a long-term project. My ego tells me everything must be done at once, but gardening begs for small yearly changes that create big change over the long haul. It's a remarkable lesson.

7. I feel empowered. Digging a bed, moving piles of dirt, dealing with tree roots--these all make me feel strong and alive.

6. I eat freshly-picked tomatoes. The taste of a ripe, just-picked tomato is mind blowing.

5. I'm in nature. No need to travel to a breath-taking state park; I only need enter the backyard and I'm in tune with the natural world.

4. I'm filled with wonder. The plants can grow inches in a single day--how cool is that? And it's only the beginning.

3. I learn. Each year I learn something new just by trying something new--sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn't. And it's all okay.

2. I'm in the moment. When I dig in the dirt, I simply dig; my monkey mind is momentarily quieted.

1. I better understand impermanence. Change is hard, yet life is full of change and uncertainty. The world is in flux. The less I resist this notion, the less I suffer. In gardening I clearly see my attachment to plants: when the weather or rabbits destroy something I've planted, I'm really sad. But lingering in that upset--or trying to control the uncontrollable--adds suffering. Bunnies will eat the plants I just put in the ground. (Dammit.) That's life. It's hard, but it's life. So I try to work with impermanence--some days are better than others.

Playing in the Snow

Last spring I discovered the fun of self-timer action shots. And this Christmas my brother-in-law gave me the greatest gift: a wireless remote shutter release. No longer must I run back and forth from the camera; now I can leap with abandon, simply clicking the remote to take a picture. (Thank you, Eric!) 

Today, as a soft snow fell, I jumped and laughed through a series of photos. Afterward, I was positively giddy. There's definitely no age limit on happily playing in the snow.

Secret Lives of Professors

Some of my students think I'm always upbeat, happy, and excited. Reality: occasionally I need a serious pick-me-up before class. Once I'm in the classroom, I feed off the students young, inquisitive energy. Yet it's important I enter that space as mindfully and authentically as possible. Periodically, I need to jump around in my office as a pre-class warm-up:

Superhero

Long ago, I gave up the notion of "doing it all" and being superwoman. Yes, my ego still wants me to get everything done beautifully while maintaining a calm, happy exterior, but that's not the reality. Reality: some errands don't get done, some papers get handed back late, some birthday cards are belated, and some workouts are skipped. BUT, the things I do are done with my whole heart and from my authentic self--imperfect and precious as it is.

That said, it's still fun to pretend to be a superhero--to pretend I can fly. Photography teacher, Andrea Scher, encourages us to play with the self-timer on our camera; to let our inner child/superhero fly. (I showed a few of these types of photos in a previous blog post.) After work yesterday, while there was still some light, I took 40+ superman photos in my bedroom. The lighting in that room is terrible for photos, but who cares? I had an absolute blast. And for a moment I flew:

These self-timer action photos are a blast. Even if none of them turns out as I hope, the experience is so much FUN. I experiment, laugh, and try new things. I play. And sometimes, after a long day in the office, I need to take a joyful leaping break (just 'cause it brings a smile to my face):

Joyful Leap (try it!)

Yesterday was another long, fulfilling gardening experience. From 2-6, I dug a new flower bed, transplanted hostas, talked to my neighbors, picked up sticks, mowed the lawn, and stared at the sky. It was just a lovely day.

Before coming inside, I remembered a suggestion from photographer Andrea Scher: use your camera self-timer and take pictures of yourself as a superhero. I've used my self-timer to get self-portraits, but never in such a playful way. Be a superhero--why not? So I decided to set the timer and jump around my backyard:

I took multiple photos and laughed the whole time. After a few shots, Mark looked inquisitively out the window. (Also, in one of the photos, my backyard neighbor can be seen in the sliding glass door in the house behind me. It really is fascinating: why is that person jumping and laughing? The secret: we can all jump and laugh; no reason necessary.) I coaxed Mark outside to join me:

This was SO much fun. Anyone with a self-timer on your camera: take a few snaps of yourself leaping and posing in the air; add your loved ones, too. I assure it will make you laugh and definitely put you in touch with a wonderful sense of play.