…one went somewhere extraordinary and loved extraordinary things…

something did after all

I went browsing through my old journal entries today, looking to catch the flavour of the year just-past in its pages.

It’s become a tradition of mine to look back upon a year, and then give that year a name. Usually, the name is taken directly from the one situation, event, experience, or period that stands out—not only because it was meaningful or intense, but because it is not likely to be repeated in quite the same way again. I’ve been doing this since 1994, and I keep the slowly-growing list right up front, on the first or second page of each of my journals. When a journal is full, I copy the list into the next journal I’ll be using.

Part of the fun of reading back through the entries to review the year is stumbling upon evidence—a line here, an outburst there—of an entirely different Self. “Did I write that? How surprisingly good! Or how embarrassingly bad! I forgot that I was like that, or that I felt that way…”

It’s fun, yes, but reading through old journals can also bring on an intense longing. Time, after all—your bright days and brilliant moments, your triumphs and treasures and epic loves and personal, magical encounters—has been reduced to less than two thousand yellowing pages covered in a small, italic handwriting.

Is this it, then, my Life? A shortlist of named years—The Year of the Island, The Year of The Seagull & The Star, The Year of The Health Care Plan, and so on—and half a dozen thick, heavy, dog-eared books filled with words, words, words, some clippings, some photos, some drawings and painted pages?

your calling is calling

“How little I have managed to say of the truth. How little I have caught of all that complexity. How can this small neat thing be true when what I experienced was so rough and apparently formless and unshaped?”

asks Doris Lessing, in her Introduction to The Golden Notebook—that massive novel about a fragmented woman who obsessive-compulsively records her life in four separate journals at a time.

events of great intensity

James Hamilton Paterson, in his book about living alone on a small tropical island, Playing With Water, put it in a beautiful way (that moved me when I first met him and read his book, and that continues to move me…possibly because I, too, lived and loved on a small tropical island, once, in a golden time of my life) that I found so significant, I even embroidered bits of this last paragraph onto the covers of my current journal:

Experiences of great intensity—an especial dream, a period of concentrated work, a sudden absorption, maybe a love-affair—have in common that they are unusually real while they last. Yet it is precisely this quality which so easily vanishes. Afterwards, how unreal it all suddenly seems! We lost ourselves in that dazzling fugue whose importance to us we do not doubt and yet which now is so imaginary. Time which seemed not measurable, so endless, suddenly lapses back into the diurnal and leaves behind it disquiet and longing for a lost intensity. We observe that there is no rapture which will not later seem chimerical, no vision or intellectual fervour which will not come to feel more vaporous than that waking sleep, the dull discourse of ordinary days. It becomes a toss-up as to which is the more delusional: the higher reality or the lower. For everything shares a common insignificance in this vain pursuit, this hapless devoir of taking an accurate stock of how things are before they cease to be.

Yet there does remain a knowledge, like the pleasurable stiffness in muscles after a previous day’s unaccustomed exercise, to prove that something occurred. Something did after all take place to tax the muscles of the mind. For an unmeasurable time one went somewhere extraordinary and loved extraordinary things. One has been a traveler; and it is not a traveler’s feet which ache.

free-stock-images-watercolor-background

book 911: Secret Message Ninja “Lulu”

*shakes head to clear the spinning stars*

I hid from the internet all day yesterday…overwhelmed by the sudden explosion of visitors, subscribers, and comments. A massive “Thank you!” to Carina, over on Feeling Stitchy, for the friendly little post that started it all…and then another  “Thank you!” to the readers and bloggers on WordPress’ Freshly Pressed, who all came over to see what the fuss was about (and who—when they found that it was just some garden variety post about stitching, and the picture of a half-finished green camera—were really nice and encouraging about it).

Seriously, my stats charts look like Arizona…a long, low, flat land that runs for, oh, a few years, and then a steep mesa that climbs straight up into the sky for the duration of a day. So many questions everyone asked! So many great points raised, tips shared, warm or humorous anecdotes thrown in…and everybody was so nice…it was the strangest thing. :)

I feel I  should reply to every single comment that was made…but, as Floresita of Feeling Stitchy says, “How about I hire someone to live the rest of my life?” I am aware that serious blogs and sites get 10-times this traffic, pretty much every day of the year, and so I will get over this day.

Iban (Sarawak) scorpion designInstead I sat on deck yesterday and put Secret Message Ninja journal together.

Her name is Lulu, poor thing…not a good name in Japan, where it would be pronounced “Rrurru“. Well, this so frustrated Lulu as a schoolgirl that she became a ninja, instead…and she writes funny, touching, or surprising notes to her mother, in between quietly strangling people who can’t say her name correctly.

Ready and waiting in my ETSY shop for her rightful owner to come along and claim her. So delighted with this journal…definitely must make some more, not least because I want one, myself!

Also thrilled because Kris had been moving old things off the sailboat and onto our houseboat, and he dug up our old typewriter! So happy to see it again, and it’s in good condition—no rust anywhere—sliding, clicking, clacking, and dinging its bell like clockwork.

I love the old typewriters…Olivettis, especially, are so well made. Kris typed his first two manuscripts (Monsoon Dervish and With Mermaid…) on this machine; the second book was written just two years ago. We still use typewriters to write with when we are sailing—we don’t always take our laptops along, and we haven’t got the electricity to power them, if we do.

a blue Olivetti typewriter
Related articles

Rapeseed, Part II

The Gambit of The Helpless Female

gambit |ˈgambit|
noun
•(in chess) an opening in which a player makes a sacrifice, typically of a pawn, for the sake of some compensating advantage.
• a device, action, or opening remark, typically one entailing a degree of risk, that is calculated to gain an advantage

And so I became absolutely impassive. I didn’t volunteer to do anything, but when they tried something I controlled my outrage and let them do it. I just…shut up, and shut off.
In between these moments there were cigarette breaks. Then I became an actor in a play, drawing on what I understood of Philippine society’s attitudes toward rape, and played the part of the raped Catholic girl in a chauvinist country: Whimpering, scared and helpless as a rabbit, obedient, very respectful, and somehow complicit in what was being done to her.

“Will you tell anyone about this? Will you report us to the police?”

Snivelling: “Oh, no, no, please…I swear I would never tell anyone about this…I would be too ashamed, it would bring shame to my family…my father would kill me, I would be disowned…”
Continue reading

Committing to 15 Projects

This picks up where the last post, Michael Nobbs Takes 20 Minutes a Day, left off. The simple idea is to:

….Pick something you’d like to achieve and publicly commit to doing it.

Then regularly (everyday if possible, but at least three or four times a week) work on your project for twenty minutes.

Michael Nobbs | Sustainably Creative » Take the 20 minutes a day challenge.

Deciding to take this challenge up, I made a (rather long) list of things I’d like to work on, make, achieve, experience, do…and picked the first (or the most pressing) fifteen items on that list. I’m going to try and give each of these items 20 minutes,at least 3 or 4 days a week, and see if I can bring them all closer to the finish line at a roughly even rate, without neglecting any one of them.

15 Projects I am publicly commiting to doing...

1. Fill a sketchbook with drawings

2. Join a group and complete a 365 photo challenge

3. grow a lovely veggie and flower garden on the boat

4. “Random Acts of Crewelty” : Have An Exhibit in 2011

5. The Phat Quarter Swap: Movies!

6. Sew a Spool Bird: “Red Brocade Bird”

7. Sew at least one item with each of the patterns in my collection

8. Make a group of 15 journals using the Allium flower technique

9. Framed, embroidered pendants and jewelry

10. Read 10 books before the end of the year

11. Use up all my small canvases…paint lots of small paintings!

12. Write 4 poems

13. Craft a series of patchworked journals and mini quilts (20)

14. Craft 12 Bijou (miniature) books using existing materials

15. Complete the August Challenge on 750Words.com

Most of these projects are part of a bigger project, with its own blog, called From Hell to Breakfast

something beautiful : : encre 1670 by J.Herbin, France

Depuis 1670...

I love dip-pens, and I am mad about subtly-colored inks in lovely bottles. In fact, I love the writing produced by very fine steel calligraphic nibs so much that I wrote my class lecture notes at university using a dip pen…cradling a little bottle of  sepia ink in my left hand and covertly dipping into it as I scribbled. I was a bookbinder, too, and so my notebooks were handcrafted, hardbound, and covered in real marbled paper. Oh, it was hoity-toity, la-di-da, and affected TO BE SURE! But—just so you know—my notes, covered in very fine, dense, coffee-colored calligraphy, looked AMAZING. It was totally worth the hassle!

I don’t collect pens and inks so that I can keep them in a drawer and once in a while do some fancy party-trick calligraphy, either: I use my steel nib dip-pen in a wooden handle, and my rainbow of bottled inks, every day. I once, stupidly, filled out a job application for housekeeper at a hotel this way. Needless to say, I didn’t get the job…shit, would you hire someone to make up dirty beds and scrub toilets if she crossed her t’s with looping flourishes? *laugh* I should have used a blue biro, made my letters a centimeter tall and dotted my i’s with little hearts, instead!

I write my journal entries, notes in my daily planner, my to do lists, my pipe dreams, sometimes even my Post-it notes, in a small, italic hand with flourishes and decorative swirls. Because it’s times like these—all the mundane, everyday moments that actually make up a life—when standards in taste and quality should apply. Show-off moments, when you are surrounded by an audience, don’t count: the true quality of your life is determined by the way you spend your time at home, alone or with your family, on the ordinary days.

Encre “1670“, also known as “l’Encre des Vaisseaux” (The Ink of Ships) is a special Anniversary Edition of the blood red ink (Rouge Hematite) that French ink- and sealing-wax-maker, J. Herbin, originally made some 340 years ago for the French…er…people? ;) I was tempted to say ‘courtiers’, but that’s just fanciful and romantic. Hah. Probably, he made the ink for clerks and lawyers. But hey, don’t f**k with my fantasy! Being in Australia, I buy my J.Herbin inks from the New Zealand pen and writing supplies shop, Zany…they are friendly, fast, efficient, and there is a warm human touch to dealing with them that many of the larger companies online simply can’t provide.

A beautiful blood red ink that is somehow also deeply orange, and yet also a deep rose colour. Clean hues, with no hint of brown at all, and also much more strongly pigmented than the company’s regular fountain pen inks (The Jewel of Inks, or “La Perle des Encres”.) The variegated shades that emerge as the ink pools and dries make for rich, subtle, beautiful (not at all like the uniformly bright red ink used by zealous professors to correct examination papers!) lines. This is an ink to write a passionate love letter or cast a spell with, or pen some swoon-worthy poetry in. What are you waiting for? Go on, then.

Do something beautiful with your life; it is later than you think.

1670 by J. Herbin

Depuis 1670...

A particularly compelling writing bug

Soon after Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way came out, everybody  was talking about Morning Pages. Morning pages were three pages of continuous, stream-of-consciousness-style writing that you were supposed to perform “in long hand” every day, so early in the morning that even your brain hadn’t woken up yet. It was by far the most successful exercise in the whole book, and everyone I knew started doing them. My mom—who owns a copy of every New Age, self-help, inspirational, motivational, behaviour modificational book that has been published since 1978—immediately got herself a copy of The Artist’s Way, and gave a copy to each of her children. I wrote my Morning Pages for a couple of months; my brother Bruihn, who is an ace painter and not blocked or insecure about his art at all, wrote them for much longer.

Writing those three pages (approximately 750 words, or 250 on each page, if handwritten) every day loosened up the tight, cramped muscles of the mind. After the first week’s pages, where beginners…well, okay, where I mostly wrote that I had nothing to write about, or wrote about the exercise itself…my thoughts started to fall into place and I found that I could think more clearly, expressing what I wanted to say with a richer vocabulary and more efficiently; that I could sustain an orderly progression of ideas from Question to Solution to Better Question.

750 Words is the online, future-ified, fun-ified translation of this exercise.

You create your account and log in, and are immediately confronted with the day’s blank screen: there’s the date at the top, and a word counter at the bottom. That’s it…no titles, no tags, no frills, no drop-down menus of categories, no having to decide who gets to see this post or not (it’s all private), no formatting, colors, or styles for the type; somewhere behind that calming white screen a timer has quietly started, and since there is nothing else to look at or tweak with, there’s just no avoiding the act of writing, itself. You start by starting, like the “journey of a thousand miles” that begins with one step.

Buster Benson is the clever, enthusiastic, and one is moved to say ‘caring’, man behind the site, and a veteran Morning Pages writer, himself. Obviously, he’s a highly motivated and disciplined individual, since he not only uses his own site without missing a day, but had to do all the work to create it, and he maintains it, as well.

But his site has managed to turn even lazy procrastinators like me into eager daily typists…and I have done the morning pages before, so why do I react so differently to the exercise this time? Would you believe that a dozen or so little bird and animal badges like these ones have actually helped to motivate me? You get these badges for writing so many days in a row without missing, or for being a consistently speedy typist, or for typing without long pauses. I love my badges! And I keep wanting the next one up…the Albatross for 30 consecutive days, the Phoenix for a hundred days…750Words.com—badgesIt’s competitive, but not necessarily with other people…it’s more like a computer game, where I am simply trying to get more points and move to the next level: I am competing with my previous points, and trying to better my own performance.

But better than badges (and this was a stroke of genius on Buster’s part) are the stats. I love the pseudo-science of statistics: they are mathematically and precisely calculated, yet the results are so easy to influence and contrive, that they’re ridiculous. 750Words uses all sorts of data culled from one’s writing—from words per minute and speed records to most frequently used word clouds, your mood and concerns for the day—and turns them into colorful pie charts and bar graphs. Not that any words-to-psyche measuring stick is very accurate…if I write “god knows,” I am likely to be concerned with religion, according to my stat page. But they are a bit of fun and not to be taken too seriously…you don’t really expect to see into your subconscious with a 9-color pie-chart of simplified emotions, do you? They’re all, according to Buster, “just tricks to help get us there.”

750Words.com—stats

And get us there they do! I’ve written 14 days, so far, and over 14,000 words. My husband, who has written three books and published two of them, always used to advise me to “try and write a thousand words a day, you cannot fail to become a better writer.” 750 Words would be a great way to start writing the bits and pieces that might go into a book, eventually. Or you could just start with a daily prompt (from elsewhere) and write about it until you get everything you want to say, about that particular topic, out. It’s also a good place to dump, rant and vent your day’s anger, worries, gloats, hate…and free your mind to concentrate on better, worthier things.

750 Words.