On Training and Discipline

Image courtesy of Dirty Girl Facebook

In 19 days I will join the exhausted, muddied ranks of women participating in the Dirty Girl mud run.  It's a 5k obstacle course, involving mud pits and climbing walls and any number of unexpected booby traps, and it's also not the kind of event that my 15 yr old self would ever have imagined that I would willingly sign up to complete.

Five years ago (!) I entered my first ever "sporty event".  Having been a dedicated non-athlete for my entire life, I, being of sound mind and body, actually chose to sign up for a sprint triathlon (500 yard swim, 6 mile bike, and 2 mile run).  After my initial panic attack, I settled into the daily workout routine created for me by my personal trainer-slash-awesome husband.  I won't bore you with the details, but ultimately I learned how to train in timed intervals, increasing the amount of time on my feet while simultaneously gaining in speed on days with a shorter run.  It was methodical and soothing, and difficult enough to keep me at my edge.  It was also unlike any form of discipline I had ever known.

Having spent my entire adolescence holed up in various dark corners in pursuit of becoming an author, I am hardwired for working at a frenetic and haphazard pace.  Days of down time followed by all-night writing binges, hours filled with plot structure and verse and character development that end abruptly, until ready to strike again, are a natural part of my DNA.  I spent all of my college, and the majority of my post-graduate, years pushing up against deadlines, working until the wee hours to get a project completed on time.  It was always a bit of an adrenaline rush piled onto a creative high.  Like drinking red bulls and vodka (am I dating myself here?) on top of multiple double macchiatos.

Apparently, you can't work that way when it comes to performing amazing feats of physical prowess.  I'm not teaching you anything new when I tell you that the body needs to build muscle slowly, one tiny fiber at a time.  Gaining strength, like staying healthy, is all about the process and not so much the product. 

For three and a half months I slugged through my training schedule, unaccustomed to the prolonged accumulation of endurance and control.  (Mostly I listened to Haruki Murakami's "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running" on my iPod.  No joke.  Best running book, ever.)  Although I understood that I was accomplishing something, I didn't really understand the magnitude of this type of training until the week of my event.  Two days before the triathlon, I was ordered to go to yoga.  The day before, I was to do nothing (nothing!) and be off of my feet by 4 p.m.  Looking at the schedule in advance, I certainly had no complaints.

Except, I was a wreck.  Edgy and restless, I kept asking what else I needed to do to prepare.  I knew I couldn't just sit there and let all that perfectly good time go to waste.  I had to cram! 

Nothing could take away the uneasy feeling of not being ready.  (Although, being forced to lay on the couch with a magazine while my sweetie cooked me an unnecessarily carb-heavy meal was a great start.)  And nothing could prepare me for how it felt the next morning when I dove into the freezing Pacific Ocean at 7 a.m.  My body was completely ready.  I was completely ready.

It's a lesson that I vowed to take with me into the future.  I promised myself from that point on, I would approach my writing, my creative projects, and my life as an endurance sport.  No more last minute cram sessions, or acceptable bouts of non-activity.  I was going to learn the basic act of daily maintenance.

Of course, one loses a bit of that bright-eyed veneer after five years.  The edge has gone, along with the majority of my "free" time.  After recognizing that my power drive seems to have settled into a bit of a cruise, I've decided another event is in order to restore that urge. 

This time, when I run, I think about a comment spoken to me by one of the senior writing teachers in my graduate program.  We were meeting during office hours, and she was critiquing my work.  Almost as an aside, clearly without much intent, she gave me the best piece of advice I learned from the entire two years of study:

"It's clear that you have an innate sense of language.  You never seem like you have to try very hard to make it work.  Which is a large part of the problem.  You don't have any discipline in your writing."

True, but I'm in training.

To Mine and Ours

Photo from Graff World

One of the personality traits that I find myself most drawn to, that which many of my good friends and my husband all possess in spades and which I personally own very little, is a strong sense of navigation.  I mean this both literally and figuratively.  The loved ones in my life always seem to know exactly where they are going.  In some cases, I know this to be absolute fact.  In others, it's quite possible that I'm dealing with some seriously savvy game-facers.

In truth, I've always felt a strong sense of where I need to be in the moment; I've understood clearly when a position, relationship, house, or way of life was provisional, and yet, still recognized the value of being present under those very temporal circumstances.  Inevitably, the winds always begin to shift, and I can sense that it is time to shake things up.  It's how I applied to graduate school at the very edge of every application deadline: on an instinct that had been settling me over throughout the course of many months.  It's how I eventually quit a job that had been eating at my insides for years.  After months of convincing myself that I needed an alternate plan, I just allowed myself to walk away.  It's like a line written by Hemingway in The Sun Also Rises: "How did you go bankrupt?"  "Two ways.  Gradually, then suddenly."

I suppose it has inadvertently become a mantra: "gradually, then suddenly."  I think in many ways it suits me fine, as long as I'm able to recognize the gradual shifts before they snowball into major life decisions without warning.  But tonight I'm stargazing a bit.  I'm watching the loved ones in my life pursue their desired course with dedication and sweat and whole-hearted zeal.  And I'm knee-deep in my admiration of each and every one of them.

Daylight Come

I saw these amazing banana cases at Tokyu Hands, (which just happens to be the world's greatest department store, ever) and promptly channeled my inner hoarder by buying them out of stock.  Just kidding.  I only dreamed about buying them out of stock, but then I would have had to explain an entire bag of multi-colored banana holders at customs and believe me, they'd already had their fill of me and my 'stuff'.
 
However, the banana case has come to represent all the qualities of the perfect gift:  completely unexpected, useful, peculiar, and well-made.  A good gift need not be expensive, or difficult to find.  It shouldn't be stuffy, or take itself too seriously.  But it does need to have style, and a strong sense of self.  A good gift should be stumbled upon, and, once discovered, it should consume the purchaser to the point of distraction.  Missing out on the opportunity to give this item to a particular person would be such a dramatic misstep that the giver has no choice but to buy it.  Immediately.  And a good gift demands to be enjoyed right away, regardless of whether or not there is an occasion for giving.

A side note: These rules can also be applied to perfect dates, friendships, and meals.

You like chili, don't you?  When I left home for college, I pretty much lived inside of my neighborhood taqueria.  Huevos rancheros for breakfast, tacos for lunch, and for dinner, I ate whatever would absorb a handful of tequila shots the quickest.  It took me a few years before I used any kitchen appliance outside of a toaster oven and a tea kettle.  That being said, the first recipe I ever mastered was this vegetarian chili from the Silver Palate cookbook.  This recipe quickly became my go-to party meal, and the process of creating this dish has pretty much defined my entire approach to hostessing.

When it comes to making chili, especially a dish with a zillion spices and chopped veggies such as this one, one has to embrace the community of food prep.  Inviting your dinner guests to chop, sample, spice, and sip, immediately creates intimacy.  I can't think of any better way to get people to open up and settle in than putting them to work creating something sumptuous.  Unless, of course, you throw a little healthy competition into the mix.

Three years ago my husband and I hosted our first annual chili cook-off, and amidst the bribery, insults, and sabotage, we found ourselves one joyously happy little fete.  The first prize chili was contested so heavily, we didn't have a choice but to provide another opportunity for the losing chefs to earn back some credibility.  And so, the birth of a tradition...

Here's my mood board for this year's contest.  It won't happen until October, but it's never too early to plan a party! 

Clockwise from top left:

Lime sorbet margaritas from Real Simple- What could possibly be better than lime sorbet and tequila?  Nothing, unless it's a 90s dance video featuring an as-yet-undiscovered Ryan Gosling busting a move in his color-block silk shirt.  Then it's a close call.

Taste Test Recipe Book from Anthropologie- In my dreamworld, I'll have it together enough on the 5th anniversary of this contest to bind a "winners circle" recipe book for all of our entrants.  I love the simple cover of this book, very inspiring!

Slate Cheese Board from the MoMA Store- Let's class it up a bit, shall we?

Mason Jar Cocktails from Betty Crocker-  This is such a great idea, and so easily converted to "kid-friendly" libations.

Eat Seasonably Calendar- I love the layout and design of this calendar, and am thinking of how to incorporate these design elements in our next invitation.  Maybe add a little flair to the judging cards, as well?

This table setting from At Home with Kim Vallee might have been created for an outdoor movie night, but I love the whole mood created in this vignette.

So, what's your trick to hosting a great party?

Word #1: Parsimonious

A couple of weeks ago, I posted a link to my day zero page.  I'm slowly building my way towards a longer list, but while I'm at it, I figured I might as well start chipping away at some of these goals.  Goal #17:  Learn 50 new words. So here it is, the inaugural word of the week:

Parsimonious

I've seen this word around.  Parsimonious and I run in different circles, but we see each other at intervals.  I've always assumed it meant something sensual or luxurious.  The word rolls off the tongue with such grace that it just exudes a natural pleasure.  I was a bit surprised to learn its true meaning: 

Of a person: characterized by or using parsimony; tight-fisted, mean. In early use also in positive sense: thrifty, frugal; (of a person's expenditure) economical, sparing.

In extended use, of a person or thing: sparing in the giving or using of something abstract, as emotion, good fortune, words, etc.

Of a thing: poor, meagre, scanty; spec. (of land) unproductive, barren.

Of a scientific hypothesis or explanation (esp. a phylogenetic tree): assuming the simplest state, process, evolutionary pathway, etc., that is consistent with the facts or observations; in accordance with the law or principle of parsimony.

Of the functioning of an organism or natural system: exhibiting economy of action, effort, or process

(definitions courtesy of Oxford English Dictionary, online version)

Tight-fisted, sparing, unproductive, barren.  Blech.  What a mood this sets, eh?  And yet, I find it liberating to inadvertently pick this word at the beginning of a project.  You have to fight your worst habits in order to build new, healthy ones, so why not begin a task by learning about its antithesis? 

Hello to you, Parsimonious.  Hope I don't run across you too often! 

 

 

Lessons Learned

I've been sitting around over-thinking things, unable to actually post because my brain is too full of thoughts for any real action to settle in.  Last night I worked myself up into a bit of a creative straightjacket, and was *thisclose* to just giving up on writing entirely.  I went to bed feeling completely fed up and stymied.  And then I woke up to this text:

For all my creative friends:  "Success is not the result of spontaneous combustion.  You must first set yourself on fire" -Fred Shero

Sometimes the world just needs to smack you upside the head in order to get you thinking straight.

I'm so grateful to know people who can simply intuit when a life lesson is needed.  I'm so ready to set myself aflame.

Taskmaster

I spent most of this morning flat on my stomach on the living room carpet with Obj. #4, piles of brightly colored foam shapes surrounding us, exploring the wonder of patterns ("Look, red square, blue circle, red square, blue circle, what should we put next?") and listening to her squeal excitedly whenever she figured out a new sequence.  It's always fun to watch a 3-year-old problem solve, and the rush of discovery that flashes spontaneously across her face make my big old heart swell.  I also started thinking a lot about patterns: how they come into being, what purposes they serve, how I have a tendency to equate "pattern" with "boredom", and how big a role they play in my life as a parent.  I still fight the tide when it comes to recognizing that my days are set into a familiar rhythm, and I still try to shake things up (sometimes completely without reason) to the dismay of my habitual daughter.

That being said, I do want to incorporate new and better habits into my routine.  I'm forever trying to sort out how I can adapt a behavior and make it stick.  I don't know if it's my motivation level, boredom, or that I haven't yet found the right system, but most of these patterns tend to get lost in the shuffle.  So, I've been looking around for fun ways to accomplish this that help keep me on task while still letting me play around aimlessly on my iPhone:

The Habit Factor- is an iPhone app that lets you set up goals, upload photos, write an explanation for each goal, and then chart your habits on a calendar.  The app keeps track of your running streaks, provides motivational quotes, and helps you prioritize different entries.  It's also got a clean and fairly attractive interface, as far as these apps go.

Way of Life-  Although I'm not a big fan of the color scheme (don't know if this is customizable?  Maybe it can be altered), I can totally nerd out on the pie charts and bar graphs.  Fun way to analyze your habits, although this might facilitate more procrastination.

TeuxDuex- This is more of a list-making tool than a habit former, but I love the classic design and simple formatting of this app.  Available on your website browser, as well as your iPhone, this is a stylish way to keep track of your days.

StickK- Some people work better under pressure, and we've all watched enough Ultimate Poker Challenge to know that nothing puts the pressure on quite like a wager.  With this website, you state your goal and how much you're willing to gamble on achieving results.  Clearly this works, there are over $10 million dollars at stake on the site.

Do It (tomorrow)- If I had an Android, I would be smitten.  This is a beautiful list-making, day-tracking app, and if you don't love having the option to put something off for later, then I'm not so sure we can be friends.

Day Zero-  Again, this website isn't about habit forming, but it is insanely fascinating and can cause you to lose many hours that you won't ever get back.  This site is a "life list" (a term I prefer infinitely more to the infamous "bucket list") with a deadline.  Choose 100 goals that you would like to achieve in 1001 days.  You can choose to make yours public, or keep it to yourself.  See what others are doing, and discover new goals with the "Idea Finder".  I just opened mine, you can help keep me accountable here.  Let me know if you start one, I'd love to see your own lists!!

Letterpress card found on etsy

In the Greek language, there are four major words for 'love':  Agape, Eros, Philia, and Storge.  When looking up the phrase 'types of love' on the internet, a whole host of religious websites immediately pop up to tell you all about this subject matter.  I mentioned this to a dear friend of mine, one who has most recently become an ordained UU minister, and she told me that religion is one of the few fields of study in which 'love' is discussed as a subject matter in its own right.  I'm not sure that I can agree, thinking about the literary and artistic movements that have been developed in order to broach the nature and philosophy of love, but her comments do make me wonder.  

That very evening, I read this post on Mighty Girl, and I was struck by the writer's ability to verbalize her process in such a tender and clear way.  I don't think that 'love' should be delegated to a field of study, nor do I think it already is being delegated.  But I do think that the majority of us have no context with which to discuss these matters outside of our comparison to the 'love' found on screen, or in print, or within a form of worship.  Our language is simply not adequate enough for something that connects ourselves with a variety of other selves.  Four, or even four hundred, words are not enough. With an issue so tender, it's frightening how many choices are made, both by and for us, that are self-defining and life-altering.  It's amazing how often we are able to recognize our own sense of love in connection with another being, or activity, or object.  I am struck by this incredible gift that we have yet to fully understand, and am overjoyed that we might never have the right words to express this one emotion.  This, to me, is the purest form of creativity, and the one that we seek to recreate in our mastery of our chosen mediums.

stay golden

Through a series of completely amazing and unexpected events, I found myself traveling across Japan this last October.  I hadn't exactly put it on my list of must-see countries, but I never object to seeing any place that I haven't already spent much time. So there I was, on Halloween day, excited to find myself embarking on a very special "work" trip to visit communities of artists with developmental disabilities.

During our travels, we toured a small program hosting an art exhibition for those who lived onsite.  Amongst the abstract charcoal prints and brightly colored pastel animal portraiture, I found a long white banner with Kanji written in dark, feathery brushstrokes.  When I first saw the banner, I was so taken by the music of those brushstrokes that I instinctively had to own it.  I wanted to absorb that free-form sensuousness into my daily living.  I wanted to sit inside of it for a broad expanse of time.  The very kind and thoughtful man who was giving us our tour laughed softly and told me that, actually, I couldn't own the banner because it belonged to their program.  It was, in fact, their motto.  Roughly translated, the phrase was simple:  "Find identity, join society."    

Months later, I continue to be touched by this phrase and think of it often throughout each week.  So simple, so basic, and yet, such a complex and, at times, extremely difficult accomplishment.  How many of us struggle with just those basic fundamental concerns?  All those existential questions regarding purpose and desire, all those socially awkward moments and feelings of inadequacy and regret, culminating into a pure dichotomous philosophy that seeks to enrich all of us (regardless of shape, size, ability, and limitation).  Thinking about this solidifies that the duality of self and community can exist so readily, and yet, must be a conscious and daily act.  One that is supported by every branch of life, including art, work, family, and self.

 Note:  For any who are interested, the program is called Yayoien and you can find them here.

#11:  Putting it on paper lets you start fixing it.  If it stays in your head, a perfect idea, you'll never share it with anyone.

Emma Coats, a storyboard artist for Pixar, has been compiling a series of tweets that serve as style guidelines.  They are listed on this site under the name "Pixar story rules (one version)".  I will probably have them all tattooed on my forearm for easy reference.

 I was wandering through the streets of the internet when I came across a teaser for the above blog post.  I'm always looking for motivation to stay consistent with my writing, and so any kind of structured framework grabs my attention.  Will it work?  Usually only until the novelty wears off.  But when I read through this list of 'rules', I kept thinking about how well they applied to life in general.  With a little fine tuning, these storyboard guidelines read as a style guide for living.  Some are a bit redundant, but others inadvertently jump out and shake loose the fundamental lessons they were meant to impart.  In so doing, they reveal a glimpse of the greater conversation between creation and action. 

 

When Challenged

all images ©Nina Katchadourian

 In her show, Seat Assignment:  Lavatory Self-Portraits in the Flemish Style, artist Nina Katchadourian takes advantage of available materials, a hand-held camera phone, and the time afforded by long 14-hour international flights that have the rest of us watching back to back romantic comedies and reruns of Curb Your Enthusiasm.  

In the catalog essay for her 2011 exhibit at Dunedin Public Art Gallery, Katchadourian asks the creative questions that inspired her to create this spontaneous, yet thoughtful, collection:

"I often make art motivated by the mundane, but Seat Assignment has become a vehicle for me to put many of my deeply-held premises to the test. Is there always more than meets the eye? Is there really something to make out of nothing? Is it truly a matter of paying attention, of staying alert and optimistic about the potential that something interesting could evolve when challenged by boredom? Furthermore, what are the limits of my ability to think on my feet (or from my seat)? When will my creativity hit a wall, either from physical and mental fatigue, or simply because I can't care any more at that moment? How far will my own sense of decorum allow me to go in a public situation?"

 Nina created a large part of her exhibit while en route to the gallery, a feat that I find to be incredibly inspiring for my own experiences with catching creativity in the briefest of moments throughout the week.  I'm carrying this around in my head as a reminder that the artistic process exists in every aspect of our day, not just the ones that we intentionally dedicate to creation.  For me, It's so helpful to be reminded that creativity requires one to stay awake, both metaphorically and literally.  Like any relationship, we build our creative processes on the foundation of a thousand tiny gestures, not the occasional grand overture.


You can see more of Nina's work on her website.

Developing a Sort of Nirvana

One of my dearest friends came to stay with us on Friday night, and we chased an evening full of gin and tonics and great conversation with an early Saturday morning cartoon fest.  Obj. #4 was snuggled up like a nesting doll, and I was explaining the myriad of reasons why Super Why just happens to be the best cartoon in rotation today.  (Even though the thrill is gone, it seems, for our daughter.)  I said something to the effect of, "It's great!  Sometimes the characters act helpless and say things like, 'but we can't, it's written in our story!'  And then Super Why swoops in and just goes, 'well, I guess we'll have to change the story.'  And they do!"

And that's when I gave up reading philosophy books.  Because everything I ever needed to learn about spiritual awakening, I got from PBS kids.

informing the other

Since Obj. #4 has begun dropping her naps, we've had to create some alternate coping strategies here at the 52 Objects household.  (I consider this to be the ultimate design flaw: that right smack in the middle of the most trying and temperamental age, those luxurious three hour midday breaks suddenly vanish.)  One of these strategies is called "quiet time", which essentially means "I don't care if you sleep, just as  long as you stay in your room for an hour."

"Quiet time" works slightly well, but this brief stint of time doesn't do any justice to the nice long stretches of calm that preceded this phase.  It requires me to reevaluate the long list of items I was hoping to attend to during this break, and somehow still fit in my own personal moment of peace.  The problem is that the minute I close the bedroom door behind me, and my daughter is thoughtfully staring up at the ceiling willing herself to stay awake, my mind goes into a sort of panic freeze.  All I can think about is everything that needs to happen in the next sixty minutes, but by this point I can't actually do any of it.  It's a numb, overwhelmed stretch of nothingness.  And it leaves me feeling exactly zero amount more refreshed, satisfied, or relaxed.

Researching this feeling on the internet is as helpful as researching "red bump" on WebMD.  There are just too many psychological issues attributed to this feeling.  I know that I'm not experiencing an actual panic attack, and my symptoms aren't related to any form of clinical depression or anxiety.  And I also know that this feeling is shared by many, many others.

When I find myself here, in this state of frustrated thought, I try to capture energy through sheer momentum.  The worst decision I can make is to walk straight into that tidal wave of overthinking, so instead, I try to pick an action and follow it through to the next step.  Learning how to create items in pieces, and learning how to appreciate the act of creating a singular piece, can feel monumental when there are so many big outcomes bouncing around my insides.  Incremental work is not my strength, and yet, it can yield such an unexpected bounty that I have no choice but to appreciate the process with the respect and awe that it so truly deserves. 

Speaking of working with pieces, and in sticking through the process, here is a little bit of loveliness that I was shown today.  I think this just might be the perfect living example of this whole post.