story

missed you

~ extraplorer ~ Leave a comment

Dear extraplorer,

I’m home. You may not realised it but I have been away a long time.  I have to tell you that everything I have been doing while I have been away has been very important. I have been working all over the world, helping people to grow. I have been writing at home for weeks, finishing off a book I hope will make a difference to the world, and bring more courage and joy and delight (but will anyone ever read it, I’m not sure). And I’ve been keeping hope alive wondering what someone else is doing in a far away place. I have been cooking and eating and seeing friends and doing pilates and running and sleeping. Sometimes I have crept in here to see you and I have wished that I had something to write here. But all my thoughts have been in my book and all my energy has been on planes and trains and in classrooms, and I have wandered around in my heart but not been ready to share what is in there, not yet.

extraplorer, I miss you, but I am here now, and I will be back. Be patient.

x

in the wordsmith’s workshop

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Following a magical visit to the goldsmith’s workshop, now it is the wordsmith’s turn.

The wordsmith had visited the goldsmith’s workshop to help her with some writing because she does not find it easy to tell her story.

The wordsmith took the tools of her own trade with her to see the goldsmith – just a little silver laptop computer and a warm heart.  As the goldsmith talked, the wordsmith captured certain phrases, facts and stories.  Using questions wrought from the wisdom of experience, the wordsmith tugged at tales and pulled at pauses, and waited patiently in silence, knowing that in time precious nuggets would emerge.

Which they did, sometimes one or two, sometime more, with their own timing and rhythm as the goldsmith remembered, lit up, hesitated and shared.

At last the wordsmith shut her laptop, said goodbye and left the goldsmith’s workshop, ready for her own process of mulling, refining, and seeing what remained.

The wordsmith allowed the goldsmith’s stories to swirl around her imagination, and at last, sat down again with the goldsmith’s words, ready to start work.

As she pondered, she let the most important themes come to the surface.  Then she worked with them, adding little facts here and there from her notes; unwinding and bending phrases to become small facets of love and delight.  She brought the goldsmith’s passions and heart for people into a setting where they could be more easily spotted.  She highlighted the goldsmith’s bravery and pioneering spirit.

At last the wordsmith was finished.  She did a last check over her work, and then ‘ping’ sent it to the goldsmith’s team.

And then today, she visited them.

The goldsmith had loved the finished work.  It had helped her to recognise her own self, remember her great joy in her own work, its value and many riches.  It had helped her to see past the struggles and weariness, to regain her vision and strength.

The praise from the goldsmith’s team delighted the wordsmith.  She too suddenly realised the treasure of her work, its power to make things beautiful and full of wonder.  She felt encouraged in the middle of a day of challenges, and renewed for her own adventures into the unknown.

And now the goldsmith and the wordsmith are hard at work, in their workshops and at their desks, making…

raw materials

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Today in London I went to an art supplies store.  I had an idea for a picture that I wanted to make, but I didn’t know how to make it, because my experience of making pictures is limited to two particular domains only – black line drawings, sometimes coloured in, on white paper for flipcharts and cards.

The art supplies shop assistant was an expert in helping inexperienced customers.  Patiently, she asked questions that helped her track from her vast experience right to the door of my very narrow experience, and my even narrower requirements (despite the narrow experience I have very specific parameters).

The result I wanted to capture was large-scale simple black line drawings coloured in as if with felt-tips.  Slowly we cycled through the options; acrylic paint ‘pens’ (no, too much like paint), watercolour ‘pens’ (too much variation in shade when used to colour in – due to layering, apparently), fine-liners (too fine), and then a kind of brush-like felt-tippish pen (not sure of the technical description) that came closest to matching on the little tester note book the idea carried somewhat stubbornly in my mind.  Even better, this pen was available in the large multi-coloured set and a myriad additional subtle shades that I had been hoping for.  I was on the brink of realising the vision I had earlier attempted to capture in my email to Caran d’ache customer services asking if they made (/request that they would invent) flipchart pen versions of my favourite felt-tips (no reply).

But the process did not finish there.  In my mind’s eye, and slightly deluded by my perception of its ‘proper artist’ status, I had thought of drawing straight on to a (admittedly pre-prepared) canvas, but, it turned out, the effect I was looking for (a dye rather than paint effect) would not work on canvas.  So the process started again, watercolour paper (no, too bumpy), cartridge paper (too thin), mountboard (too thick) and so on to something called ‘papier epais’ (thick paper, extra appealing in French) which seemed just right – but I would need a larger size.

My raw materials selection afternoon has reminded me of a profound truth.  Each of us constitutes the ‘raw materials for some particular kinds of creation.  In the art shop, I could choose the raw materials for my vision.  In real life, it is the raw materials that are given, and my role is the expression of these into the artistic work of living a life.  The shop assistant reveals the a great call to a deep understanding of the raw materials of each other, so that we can have expectations that suit the roles others are equipped to play, and that our collaborations in relationships, in work, in community life match what each is able to offer with what each is able to receive.  This is creative work that never ends.

critics’ tribunal

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One of my prevailing awarenesses as I write more consistently, is of the different inner critics and judgements that my work attracts.

I am loathe to dispatch all my inner critics, because some of them make very helpful, quality-increasing contributions.  So, by careful attention, I have managed to identify some of the different critic voices, and from this I have found some who can stay (carefully managed) and one or two who are on their way out.

I would like to put the critics in the dock:

Proof-reader, what do you have to say for yourself?

PR:  Thank you for asking.  In fact I am doing my best to contribute to team extraplorer by making sure that the writing that you do is clear of mistakes that will distract people who are reading your work.  Also, I have been in training for some time (although to be honest some of my training was in France so I am aware that sometimes I do hesitate between two punctuations).  Also, I do my best to reflect the way you hear your words in your head, even if that requires grammatical latitude.  So I think I should stay.

Sound-engineer, what can you say in your defence – why should you stay?

SE:  My specialist area is listening to the musicality of the words.  I try to be attuned to rhythm, pitch and volume.  If a word seems to clash, I do my best to find another solution.  I’m also aware that the audience are hearing things in different places, so I go and sit in different seats to be sure that they can have the truest experience where they are.  Honestly, you need me on your team.

Truth, you sometimes stand in the most inconvenient places, and quite often immoveable.  Why should you stay?

T:  I have learned wisdom in many deep ways.  I know you well and love you.  I don’t want you to stray into places that make you vulnerable to deception or delusion.  I know I sometimes cause time-consuming rethinking, but I believe in you and want your journey to be anchored in what is real.  But I must point out that I also allow you lots of space to play.  I am not a box-ticker.  I understand that we are together in an adventure, and we will learn about each other on the way.  But be aware, there is someone else who tries to disguise himself as Truth, and he is not, he is Belittle.

Belittle, what are you doing here?

B:  More to the point, what are you doing here?  I can see that some of these words seem to be appealing to some people, but really they are probably mostly spam, or just liking you to be liked back.  You know what the internet is like.  And honestly, you’re excited about people following your blog.  Pah, there are billions of people in the world and you are getting excited about forty-four of them.  It’s not the best ratio is it?  And while we’re thinking about ratios, the effort expended on thinking about this compared to the result.  Pitiful!

Darkness, are you there?

D:  No, you’re just imagining it.

Judgement?

[…]

Despite, or maybe because, of its heavy silence, I have become increasingly aware of the presence of Judgement, because it is present with some of my writing, but absent in others.  For example, I felt a lack of judgement about the found poems, when I’m writing ‘thinking thoughts’ and when I am writing about something more universal, like leaving my thirties behind.  But when I wanted to write about something more tender or personal, I can feel this mean feeling that ‘this is not real writing.’

Darkness and Judgement seem to form a team that is really difficult to spot or deal with.

But I feel that Darkness and Judgement can be unsettled, disrupted into revealing their presence, and especially this is true in the presence of other people.  They thrive on silence, and fear, but when this is being dispersed, it is like they get dispersed at the same time.

As I bring different mirrors to my writing, by noticing other people’s stories about their writing, I am becoming more able to expose Darkness and Judgement to the light.  Exposed to the light it turns out there are two Judgements, one, an imposter, who tries to crush creativity through shame.  Another, a sensitive and nuanced critic who is there to increase the quality of my perception of my work, who works in tandem with Truth and Sound-Engineer and Proof-Reader to check that my work honours the wholeness of my intentions.

True Judgement, what would you like to say?

TJ:  I am still learning how to judge carefully and honestly.  I bring together the work and the team, and try to hear clearly each person’s contribution, and how it relates to the essence of your work.  I slow them down and make them explain themselves if what they say is muddled.  It is so important that I am not confused with impostor Judgement, because without me you will not be able to express the fullness of what is on your heart, or in your mind, or vision.

Be patient with me because I am learning with you, and it will take time for us to trust each other, and for us to become stronger and more confident of our contribution.

Having a range of critics who I am comfortable with and who can stay is giving me confidence to expel those whose presence is only destructive.

on leaving some things unsaid

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I was going to carry on with part three (photo) and part four (name) of my one month review, and something has made me hesitate.  Is this too much reviewing?  I ask myself.  I feel a bit ‘I’ve started so I’ve finished’, but I don’t want to pay so much attention to something that I wear it out, like washing.

So in fact I will leave it there for reviewing for now.

Leaving some things unsaid is perhaps surprisingly like the dynamic of deciding when to jump off a wave you’re surfing.   Once you’re up, it’s so tempting to ride that wave all the way to the very end, to get the last centimetre of wave out of the experience.  But sometimes that leaves you on a scrappy bit of wave with no energy left in it, plus you’ve gone so far the paddle back can be really long.  Sometimes it’s better just to hop off earlier, leaving some energy and excitement ready for the next one.

In the writing I’ve been doing so far, knowing when to hop off what I’m writing has proven surprisingly challenging.  One of the most common final things before I post a post is to delete the last line.  (I’ll be heading over to ‘found poem, London, autumn 2014’ soon to get rid of ‘Go to it’, I can feel it’s too heavy-handed).  I have an aversion to overemphasising a point and making it annoying.  The other day I realised I wanted to coin a new word, something like obviaphobia, to label the fear I have of saying something that is too obvious, or that has been said too many times already, or getting wedged in an cliché.

(Leaving things unsaid is a habit I try to cultivate in friendships and work.  My sense of justice and precision is such that I often feel compelled to aim for accuracy in accounts of events, feelings, responsibility.  But this kind of precision can be too much to bear.  Discretion is an unsung hero of human relations.)

In music, I have been learning about ‘interrupted cadences’.  A cadence is two chords in a row.  The ones I have been learning about are at the end of a phrase of music.  A perfect cadence sounds like an ending.  And imperfect cadence sounds like you’ve just taken a breath but are about to end.  And then the interrupted cadence is my favourite.  It’s like leading someone up to the end of a path, and stopping just as the path turns a corner, and you can’t see what’s next.

The what’s next? is the unsaid bit, and I like the bit fact that leaving a bit unsaid leaves a space for the reader.