There is always a choice
A couple of days ago as I was headed north on 4th street on my way to work, a bird landed on the road. He was…well, nondescript. Black. Bigger than a sparrow. Smaller than a breadbox. I noticed him because he landed in the middle of the road, out of the way of traffic. He was perfectly safe, but when he saw my car coming towards him, he turned his back to me and began hurrying away, only to realize another car was coming in the other direction.
In the short span of time it took for our cars to pass, that poor little guy spun around two or three times, unsure which way to go and, I’m sure, feeling quite panicked. And then, as if it suddenly occurred to him he had such power, he took a short leap, and was airborne.
I thought about that confused little bird the rest of my drive. The bird thought he was caught between two bad situations—my car, or the car coming the other direction. He did what so many of us do when we are confronted with a choice. We spin this way and that, making ourselves dizzy and usually submitting to whichever choice takes us by the hand first. Or we sit still with our eyes closed, unsure which way to turn until opportunity has passed and we are left exactly where we began.
Think about a single aspect of your life you want to change. Maybe it’s your job or your career or your home. Maybe you want a new car. Or a whole new life. What keeps you from making that change? What choices are presented that keep you like the little bird, spinning in your tracks, unsure which road is the right one? Maybe you feel you have no choice—
“I can’t quit my job. I have a mortgage to make.”
“I can’t pursue songwriting—there’s no time in my day to give it serious attention.”
“I have no choice but to…(fill in the blank)”
Whatever the response, one thing is certain. We always have a choice. Always. It may not be a choice we like, but this does not change the truth. So I ask you again—what keeps you from making the change you crave in your life? What if you DID quit that job? What if you DID choose to pursue your art? What if you DID just one thing that could change your life forever? Maybe your life would crumble in a heap around you. But maybe your life would be filled with a bliss you never even imagined.
Some choices are terrifying. Your parents and your friends warn you not to choose dangerously because they love you so very much and want you to be safe. They, as Ken Robinson says,
“Will collude with you and create a story that is hard to get out of.” *
A story that often begins not with “Once upon a time,” but rather with “I have no choice.” But what say you– will you choose to stay in that safe world, or take a chance on a life you dream of?
I’m not advocating everyone call their boss in the morning and say, “Hey, you know what, I choose to not come in today. Or tomorrow. Or ever again.” Although, I’d love to hear from you if you do. But how about this—make the choice to live life on your own terms. Choose to create a path into the forest of your own existence rather than following the one that has been cut for you. Choose to take small steps to move you from your current path stuck between two racing cars until you come to a point where you realize – or more accurately, remember—you can fly.
Whether you rip your life open or take measured steps, commit to this. Never again allow yourself to say “I have no choice.”
There is always a choice.
* quoted in Finding Joe
Read MoreTete-a-Tete is Fini
The last three cards are finished. Tomorrow they will go in the mail to be returned to the Hispanic Cultural Center, and in a few weeks I will receive ten other cards from other artists. What a great project! I’m sad to see it end.
Read MoreSpring Break
Ok, so I haven’t done a really good job posting every day for the 40 Days of Blogging. BUT, I have been creative. Every single most of those days. A lot of the creativity comes in the form of the Tete-a-Tete cards I’m working on:
But in addition, I am working on a fabulous Sekrit Project with the formidable force that is the Shaeman. That’s all I shall say on that subject. For now.
So begins Spring Break. Nine glorious days of creativity in front of me punctuated with occasional forays into public spaces to deal with the intricacies of buying a house. But that’s another topic for another time.
Read MoreTell Me
Not doing such a good job doing a blog a day, but I am busy creating. I’m currently participating in Tete-a-Tete Trading Cards, part of Women and Creativity 2012. Here’s my first, which likely will not make it into the final pile:
Diamond Days
Today was a brilliant day in Albuquerque. About 65 degrees, nothing but sun, slight breeze. I took advantage of it to go the Alameda Open Space, which is near my apartment. I wasn’t alone—it was a challenge to find parking, but I did and joined the multitudes as they skated/biked/ran/walked while pushing baby strollers, reluctant toddlers, and overly stimulated dogs. I write about this because just a quarter of a mile into my walk I noticed an oil stain on the blacktop that was a wonderful shadow silhouette of a 19th century Russian writer. You can choose whichever one you’d like, but it most looked like:
I tried to stop and take a closer look at Dostoevsky on the blacktop, but the crowds would not be delayed, so I was forced to continue.
This was the first of two miracles I experienced this happy Sunday. The second came later, when I was having my hair cut by an itinerant preacher who stopped suddenly and pronounced upon me a prophecy. I would share, but Savannah says that could nullify the prophecy, like speaking your birthday wish out loud. I don’t think I’ll take that chance.
Suffice it to say today has been a diamond day.
Read More
Wild Geese
For today’s fare, I include a poem by Mary Oliver. This is for a dear friend who really, really needs to listen to what Oliver has to say.
Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Read More
The Gangrene Sonnets
My daughter Savannah is one of the most brilliant minds I know, and I find myself most days struggling just to keep up with her thinking. Most of our conversations take place via text messaging, which just accentuates the challenge. Come with me, if you dare, on the journey:
Savannah: ‘Which road is this? Is it like a carnivorous tar lip stretched too thin over a failed American imagination?’
Me: Wow. Where did you get that line?
Savannah: I wrote it.
Me: Get outta here!
Savannah: I went to LaPo (the slang name for the university cafeteria) just now. Took a notebook. Jotted a single line—that’s the only one I got. Then I ate my rice pudding and came back here.
Me: (Glaring at my unfinished manuscript) Well, if you’re only going to find one line in LaPo, at least it was a zinger.
Savannah: It’s in ‘The Gangrene Sonnets.’ It’s about (friend’s name) and is on my collection that I told you about. This one is, on its surface, about when cultures disappear. You know the song ‘Rogues in a Nation.’
Me: (Quickly plugging ‘Rogues in a Nation’ into YouTube) No, I don’t.
(Rogues in a Nation is from Steeleye Span. I’ll put it here, save you the time)
Savannah: Anyway, I don’t know if I will frame it in terms of dying culture because that is too similar to ‘Apollo’s Apologies.’
(Searching Google for “Apollo’s Apologies. To buy time, I tell Savannah to check her email, and send her this great picture I keep on my computer desktop:)
(I’m now feeling pretty smug with myself, giving my daughter the Jarmuch advice. Then she responds.)
Savannah: I like it, but I wrote ‘Apollo’s Apologies.’ What if they’re too close thematically?
Me: No wonder I can’t find it on Google.
Savannah: ‘Apollo’s Apologies’ is framed as a Neanderthal dying. It was inspired by a National Geographic article about El Sidron, a Spanish cave.
Me: You’re killing me.
At this point, Savannah is frustrated by the confines of text messaging, so she switches mediums and sends me a Facebook message:
- 13 minutes ago
- So, anyway, the cave in the article is one of the last places that Neandertals lived before their extinction. It was in the final stretch of the species’ life. There was a quote about what it must have been like to be those last Neandertals sitting in this cave while the species is in decline. And the anthropologist talking was describing a Neandertal setting a fire and looking out into the darkness. It really resonated with me.Each poem has many, many, many meanings. I want them to be deceptively simple: on the surface seemingly about one thing but maybe triple in meaning. Thus “Apollo’s Apologies” ends the second act of the film-poem and it is about apologies and regret, the countdown to extinction, and the worst thing that one cand do to another human being unaccustomed to living in the real world: face reality. It’s about dread, when one has to end the surrealism and face that there is no escaping. I want it to be the emotional piece.The poem is, not surprisingly, set in a cave. The creativity, I know. The cave doubles down as El Sidron and Plato’s cave.Since the film-poem is very much a surrealist piece- that is its most important genre- I think that it is very difficult to bring it to reality without losing the visuals that act as an alternate form of written language.But content: Is it too similar to “The Gangrene Sonnets?” Maybe I should make “The Gangrene Sonnets” about domestication but do it very subtly to avoid another, “Woe is me” piece. What do you think? “The Gangrene Sonnets” is in El teatro, not El museo. But I don’t want to make a bunch of wilting doe poems.Sorry. I know you’re writing. I’ll just check this tomorrow.
I text-message Savannah back, telling her I will be cutting and pasting her message into the blog. To which she responds:
Savannah: Well then I have to rewrite it with big, impressive words. :flails arms:
Seriously. That’s my kid.
Read More
The Lady Doth Protest
Today while walking I reached out to a low hanging branch of a twisted cottonwood and touched the burgundy burst that will become summer’s leaves. A jolt of life slipped into my fingertips, and I carried it forward into the Sunday afternoon.
Spring in New Mexico.
They never could stay home.
