(I wrote this in 2002. It appeared in a now-defunct online lit mag in 2003. I remembered it this past week when someone told me that she'd love to spend more time writing but...)
It's nice to have dreams and all that, but you gotta make a living, she told me.
You can't eat poetry.
I said to her Oh, but you can.
Follow me to the table.
Here we are. There's plenty to choose from.
How about starting out with a glass of delicate white Quatrain?
Or would you enjoy a tankard of Ode instead?
If you're feeling up to it, we have Pentameter pints as well.
Munch on a handful of crunchy Couplets while we decide what's next.
You can also have a Pastorale salad or Ghazal on pita bread.
Now for the main course.
If you're really hungry, you might want to try a big juicy Epic doused in sauteed onions and mushrooms, served with a baked potato.
Or for a summery flavor, you might like grilled Idyll with a side of garden vegetables.
Delicate appetites prefer steamed Haiku over rice served with plum sauce.
If you like French cuisine, you'll love the Rondeau du jour.
For dessert, sample some Villanelle with your coffee
or nibble on freshly baked Limericks.
A liqueur of Sonnet, with hints of rose petals, will round things out nicely.
Whatever you choose, I promise that you won't go away hungry.
I see, she said, surveying the spread before her, that I shall have to eat my words.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
There's Work and There's Art: Making Time for What Matters
I wish I had a dollar for every time I've heard someone say, "I can't wait to retire so I can write/start my photography business/take up guitar again." With all that money I'd be able to retire. It's easy to fool ourselves about how easy it would be to blaze ahead with that great freelance idea or fun project if only we didn't have to work.
However, while watching friends go through long periods of unemployment I've noticed that even people without anything on the daily to-do list don't necessarily use all that free time to work on a long-held dream. I've found that for me, jobs pose problems when they involve a lot of overtime or are emotionally draining, but most often, the job isn't what's keeping me from writing.
It isn't necessary to have huge blocks of free time in order to work on your own projects. Even the most ambitious project can be broken down into small chunks. Here are some ways to fit those small chunks into your work day:
However, while watching friends go through long periods of unemployment I've noticed that even people without anything on the daily to-do list don't necessarily use all that free time to work on a long-held dream. I've found that for me, jobs pose problems when they involve a lot of overtime or are emotionally draining, but most often, the job isn't what's keeping me from writing.
It isn't necessary to have huge blocks of free time in order to work on your own projects. Even the most ambitious project can be broken down into small chunks. Here are some ways to fit those small chunks into your work day:
- Use 10 minutes in the morning before leaving for work to do one small thing. For example, if you write, do a brainstorm for story ideas or draft one paragraph.
- Depending on how you get to work, use your commute time. If you drive, take your MP3 and listen to an audiobook about your particular field. If you take the bus or Max and are lucky enough to get a seat, take your iPad along and work on something. If you walk or bike, use the time to sort out ideas.
- Try to figure out how your job can help your art. You might be in a position where you meet people who could become valuable contacts or mentors. If you're in retail, maybe you're eligible for deep discounts on supplies. I work in a library and find that having access to all kinds of information is invaluable.
- Even if you like to relax or socialize during lunch break, try devoting 1-2 breaks per week to working on your project.
- The evening before your day(s) off, work on your project for half an hour before indulging in a second glass of wine and tuning out in front of the TV. Starting your weekend (whatever days it falls on) this way will give you a shot of creative energy that'll keep you going all weekend.
- If you have a lot of vacation time available, take several days off just for writing or whatever you do. If you have kids, choose school days so that you'll have 6-7 hours of free time during the day.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
A Student Again: Changing One Thing Can Change Everything
The longer I explore the relationship between the work people do for a living and the work they do for love, the more I'm convinced that having a passion or practicing an art revitalizes every area of life. This seems to be true even when a life area such as the day job or a certain relationship is causing an unhealthy level of stress. I've noticed whenever I'm deeply involved in a group or project such as the class I'm currently taking, it's easier to handle stress all around. Why is this?
Maybe it's partly because having deep connections with people and activities outside work means that all your eggs aren't in one basket. Losing your job would create serious financial issues but you wouldn't lose all your friends or social support. I've noticed that friends who have serious off-hours pursuits don't tend to keep a death grip on the job or be thrown into a spin by small setbacks. In a sense, being involved in several non-work activities is like getting booster shots; you're more resistant to the effects of workaholism, office drama, or the fear that accompanies hard times and downsizing.
Perhaps it's also because mastering a skill in something you love gives you the confidence you need to tackle less pleasant or more difficult tasks at work. Sometimes just practicing the self-discipline necessary to reach a skill level where you can do the fun stuff (like playing dance tunes as opposed to scales and exercises!) gives you a greater tolerance for routine but necessary work.
As a student 30 years ago I worked in an electronics testing plant one summer. The assembly line work was repetitive and often boring. I dreamed of the day I'd graduate and become a hotshot reporter or publicist; I'd never have a dull moment as I chased the latest story or big account. To pass the time I chatted up some of my coworkers.
It turned out that one of them, a recently arrived refugee, had been a violin maker and repairman back in Poland. As I watched him I noticed that he didn't seem frustrated or bored even though factory work was well below his abilities. He tested batteries and assembled boards with the same focused attention that he would have used when polishing his instruments. Several years later I heard from a former coworker that this man had eventually opened his own stringed instrument repair shop. Maybe one reason for his success was the patience and attention to detail he'd practiced during his time at the electronics plant.
When you're immersed in hard times at work it can be tempting to pull back on pleasurable pursuits and focus only on keeping your head above water at work. However, if you resist the pressure to give up your passions, you'll be happier and healthier in the long run.
Maybe it's partly because having deep connections with people and activities outside work means that all your eggs aren't in one basket. Losing your job would create serious financial issues but you wouldn't lose all your friends or social support. I've noticed that friends who have serious off-hours pursuits don't tend to keep a death grip on the job or be thrown into a spin by small setbacks. In a sense, being involved in several non-work activities is like getting booster shots; you're more resistant to the effects of workaholism, office drama, or the fear that accompanies hard times and downsizing.
Perhaps it's also because mastering a skill in something you love gives you the confidence you need to tackle less pleasant or more difficult tasks at work. Sometimes just practicing the self-discipline necessary to reach a skill level where you can do the fun stuff (like playing dance tunes as opposed to scales and exercises!) gives you a greater tolerance for routine but necessary work.
As a student 30 years ago I worked in an electronics testing plant one summer. The assembly line work was repetitive and often boring. I dreamed of the day I'd graduate and become a hotshot reporter or publicist; I'd never have a dull moment as I chased the latest story or big account. To pass the time I chatted up some of my coworkers.
It turned out that one of them, a recently arrived refugee, had been a violin maker and repairman back in Poland. As I watched him I noticed that he didn't seem frustrated or bored even though factory work was well below his abilities. He tested batteries and assembled boards with the same focused attention that he would have used when polishing his instruments. Several years later I heard from a former coworker that this man had eventually opened his own stringed instrument repair shop. Maybe one reason for his success was the patience and attention to detail he'd practiced during his time at the electronics plant.
When you're immersed in hard times at work it can be tempting to pull back on pleasurable pursuits and focus only on keeping your head above water at work. However, if you resist the pressure to give up your passions, you'll be happier and healthier in the long run.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Yes, And
There are two ways to view problems - or, in socially correct lingo, challenges. One way could be called "Yeah, but." The alternative way is "Yes, and." We all know about the first alternative. I learned about the second one during an Improv class I took nearly 5 years ago.
The class I took was offered through the local community college. It was called Improv for Theater and Life. It was the Life part that drew me in. At the time I was working as a substitute staff assistant in public schools as well as in customer service in the library system. Talk about needing improv skills; every work day I was flying by the seat of my pants, as the saying goes.
One of my favorite exercises was called Yes And. The first person makes a statement or starts a story. The next person picks up the thread with "Yes, and," then continues the train of thought. Often the trains went speeding off in strange & unpredictably wonderful directions. That was the point: when you say yes, results may be unpredictable but chances are, they'll be better than anything that would come up if you'd urped up an automatic no.
Like most WASP kids in the 1970s I grew up in a community culture where caution and security were valued over adventure and exploration. Boys were told to major in Business if they were college-bound or learn auto mechanics if they weren't . We girls - you knew this was coming - were advised to get a guy to agree to marry us, whether he was blue-collar (fawn over his tricked-out car) or white-collar (pretend to be fascinated by his intellectual pronouncements). I felt like a terrible fake when I used this advice on dates. I was saying no not only to my real self but also to the real guys I was with.
I'm sure there were good reasons for cultivating security at all costs, even as there are good reasons why many of us still choose certainty over adventure and growth today. Yeah But thrives during hard economic times. We're all cautioned against giving up the Sure Thing job for the uncertain business venture, investing too much time in artistic projects or taking any vacation time (forget the Great European Adventure!) lest the boss notice our lack of dedication.
However, looking back, I can see that if I'd chosen roads that were less safe but felt more true to myself, I might actually have gotten farther down my chosen path, whatever that path may have turned out to be. Many of the now-acknowledged geniuses of our time such as Steve Jobs and Bill Gates didn't become legends by playing it safe. As far as I can tell, no one ever achieved ground-breaking success by following the path dictated by the conventional wisdom of the moment.
The spirit of Yes And grabbed me because it embraces a multitude of possibilities, including seemingly conflicting options, rather than automatically excluding anything that doesn't fall within our personal range of experience. Only by inviting in conflict and examining the unknown can we find possible solutions to seemingly intractable dilemmas. As the saying attributed to Einstein goes, you can't solve problems by using the thinking that created them.
I still have to remind myself to slip into Yes And mode when I'm stymied by a problem or discouraged by my lack of progress on a project. However, when Yeah But wraps its arms around my neck and cuts off my breath, it's amazing how quickly I remember.
The class I took was offered through the local community college. It was called Improv for Theater and Life. It was the Life part that drew me in. At the time I was working as a substitute staff assistant in public schools as well as in customer service in the library system. Talk about needing improv skills; every work day I was flying by the seat of my pants, as the saying goes.
One of my favorite exercises was called Yes And. The first person makes a statement or starts a story. The next person picks up the thread with "Yes, and," then continues the train of thought. Often the trains went speeding off in strange & unpredictably wonderful directions. That was the point: when you say yes, results may be unpredictable but chances are, they'll be better than anything that would come up if you'd urped up an automatic no.
Like most WASP kids in the 1970s I grew up in a community culture where caution and security were valued over adventure and exploration. Boys were told to major in Business if they were college-bound or learn auto mechanics if they weren't . We girls - you knew this was coming - were advised to get a guy to agree to marry us, whether he was blue-collar (fawn over his tricked-out car) or white-collar (pretend to be fascinated by his intellectual pronouncements). I felt like a terrible fake when I used this advice on dates. I was saying no not only to my real self but also to the real guys I was with.
I'm sure there were good reasons for cultivating security at all costs, even as there are good reasons why many of us still choose certainty over adventure and growth today. Yeah But thrives during hard economic times. We're all cautioned against giving up the Sure Thing job for the uncertain business venture, investing too much time in artistic projects or taking any vacation time (forget the Great European Adventure!) lest the boss notice our lack of dedication.
However, looking back, I can see that if I'd chosen roads that were less safe but felt more true to myself, I might actually have gotten farther down my chosen path, whatever that path may have turned out to be. Many of the now-acknowledged geniuses of our time such as Steve Jobs and Bill Gates didn't become legends by playing it safe. As far as I can tell, no one ever achieved ground-breaking success by following the path dictated by the conventional wisdom of the moment.
The spirit of Yes And grabbed me because it embraces a multitude of possibilities, including seemingly conflicting options, rather than automatically excluding anything that doesn't fall within our personal range of experience. Only by inviting in conflict and examining the unknown can we find possible solutions to seemingly intractable dilemmas. As the saying attributed to Einstein goes, you can't solve problems by using the thinking that created them.
I still have to remind myself to slip into Yes And mode when I'm stymied by a problem or discouraged by my lack of progress on a project. However, when Yeah But wraps its arms around my neck and cuts off my breath, it's amazing how quickly I remember.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
A Student Again: Grownups, It's Your Turn in the Sandbox
Today upon entering and leaving the reception room at Beacock's, I noticed the usual Saturday morning activity - kids tuning guitars, kids humming, kids leafing through sheet music and kids bouncing around, eagerly anticipating either the upcoming class or lesson, or the day in general. Even the kids who seemed shy wore little smiles. They all looked joyful.
I also noticed the parents. No, the moms. All the waiting parents in the little room upstairs today were moms. I noticed them because they provided such a contrast to the bouncing kids. One woman was listlessly paging through a magazine. Another was frowning while she fiddled with her phone. The third woman was merely pressing fingers to forehead as if to ward off a headache. No joy here.
Maybe the adults looked soggy because they all had weighty problems on their minds or were worried about something. Maybe. However, I think it's more likely that each mom, in the deep recesses of whatever part of the mind harbors secrets, was thinking I'm always waiting around while my kids have all the fun.
Back in the early '90s when I started raising kids, the parenting style I call Fertilizer Mom was becoming the cultural norm. If you had kids, you were expected to give up everything that until then had made you a complete (and interesting) person, and make a career out of being A Mom. Your job was to be the fertilizer that helped everyone else grow. The "lucky" women were married to men who could support an at-home wife, who then dedicated herself to her children's success. However, even the women who needed to stay in the workplace arranged all their non-work waking hours around kids. This was the era when SUVs started to display vanity plates that read "Mom-mobile" and school gave awards to parents who spent 40 hours per week camped out in the volunteer center.
My mom was "at home" full time during the 1960s but even she would never have dreamed of doing some of the things that came to be routinely expected of mothers in the '90s. One of those expectations was that you'd drop any activity that wasn't directly related to your kids, their schools, sports teams and other activities.
I had one friend during this time, an aspiring writer, who wouldn't even give herself permission to attend the monthly writers' group To which I belonged. The meeting was only three hours a month, yet she felt she'd be "cheating" (her word) the husband and kids if she went. Not surprisingly she plunged into a major depression two years later.
Thankfully things are changing - it seems like the pendulum always has to swing between extremes before it arrives in the middle - and now it's OK to be a mom and a real person simultaneously. Many of today's new moms seem to be happily doing their own thing as well as cheering their kids on. But maybe some of them still need reassurance: your own growth isn't going to take anything away from your kids. In fact, the stronger you are as a whole person, the stronger your kids are likely to become.
Maybe some of the wilted women I saw today would like to have music lessons themselves. Or art classes or band or a soccer team of their own. Maybe then they'd be just as joyful on Saturday mornings as their offspring.
There's an idea: classes for parents held during the times that they're waiting for kids. That way, no one has to feel left out.
I also noticed the parents. No, the moms. All the waiting parents in the little room upstairs today were moms. I noticed them because they provided such a contrast to the bouncing kids. One woman was listlessly paging through a magazine. Another was frowning while she fiddled with her phone. The third woman was merely pressing fingers to forehead as if to ward off a headache. No joy here.
Maybe the adults looked soggy because they all had weighty problems on their minds or were worried about something. Maybe. However, I think it's more likely that each mom, in the deep recesses of whatever part of the mind harbors secrets, was thinking I'm always waiting around while my kids have all the fun.
Back in the early '90s when I started raising kids, the parenting style I call Fertilizer Mom was becoming the cultural norm. If you had kids, you were expected to give up everything that until then had made you a complete (and interesting) person, and make a career out of being A Mom. Your job was to be the fertilizer that helped everyone else grow. The "lucky" women were married to men who could support an at-home wife, who then dedicated herself to her children's success. However, even the women who needed to stay in the workplace arranged all their non-work waking hours around kids. This was the era when SUVs started to display vanity plates that read "Mom-mobile" and school gave awards to parents who spent 40 hours per week camped out in the volunteer center.
My mom was "at home" full time during the 1960s but even she would never have dreamed of doing some of the things that came to be routinely expected of mothers in the '90s. One of those expectations was that you'd drop any activity that wasn't directly related to your kids, their schools, sports teams and other activities.
I had one friend during this time, an aspiring writer, who wouldn't even give herself permission to attend the monthly writers' group To which I belonged. The meeting was only three hours a month, yet she felt she'd be "cheating" (her word) the husband and kids if she went. Not surprisingly she plunged into a major depression two years later.
Thankfully things are changing - it seems like the pendulum always has to swing between extremes before it arrives in the middle - and now it's OK to be a mom and a real person simultaneously. Many of today's new moms seem to be happily doing their own thing as well as cheering their kids on. But maybe some of them still need reassurance: your own growth isn't going to take anything away from your kids. In fact, the stronger you are as a whole person, the stronger your kids are likely to become.
Maybe some of the wilted women I saw today would like to have music lessons themselves. Or art classes or band or a soccer team of their own. Maybe then they'd be just as joyful on Saturday mornings as their offspring.
There's an idea: classes for parents held during the times that they're waiting for kids. That way, no one has to feel left out.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
A Student Again - Kicked Out of the Comfort Zone
Good teachers in any field have one thing in common: they don't let you rest for long. I've been continually rediscovering this since my first class nearly six months ago.
When I signed up I already felt like a beginner even though I've been playing and singing something, with one group or another, since high school. However, I'd gotten into a rut. During my more truthful moments I realized I was bored. That's why I deliberately chose an instructor who works outside of "my" genre. I'm used to what could be loosely called classical; she does jazz.
When I signed up, I knew I wanted to learn a few new skills such as working by ear (as opposed to reading music) and improvising harmony lines on the spot. I suspected it would take much work on my part, and I was right. In addition to these musicianship skills, however, my instructor has also been gradually prodding me towards solo work, whether by myself or against a background of other instruments.
This, for me, has been the most challenging aspect of being a student again - having to get out - wa-a-ay out - in the spotlight. Whether playing in an ensemble or singing in a choir, the point is to blend in, not stand out. In addition, for most of my musical life I've been living in what I call the Alto Ghetto, where much of the material is underwhelming, such as 3-note drone lines for wind instruments or do-wop choruses designed to set off showy Soprano solos. The supporting cast is necessary but being there on a long term basis can make you either complacent or catatonic.
For now I'm just getting used to the idea. Eventually I'll have to make the leap. I expect it will be much like diving into a mountain lake: thinking about it is more excruciating than actually doing it, and the water turns out to be just fine.
This is perhaps the greatest value in studying under a good teacher. Being kicked out of the comfort zone is momentarily disorienting. There may be a few embarrassing moments at first. But it's the only way to arrive at the next level.
When I signed up I already felt like a beginner even though I've been playing and singing something, with one group or another, since high school. However, I'd gotten into a rut. During my more truthful moments I realized I was bored. That's why I deliberately chose an instructor who works outside of "my" genre. I'm used to what could be loosely called classical; she does jazz.
When I signed up, I knew I wanted to learn a few new skills such as working by ear (as opposed to reading music) and improvising harmony lines on the spot. I suspected it would take much work on my part, and I was right. In addition to these musicianship skills, however, my instructor has also been gradually prodding me towards solo work, whether by myself or against a background of other instruments.
This, for me, has been the most challenging aspect of being a student again - having to get out - wa-a-ay out - in the spotlight. Whether playing in an ensemble or singing in a choir, the point is to blend in, not stand out. In addition, for most of my musical life I've been living in what I call the Alto Ghetto, where much of the material is underwhelming, such as 3-note drone lines for wind instruments or do-wop choruses designed to set off showy Soprano solos. The supporting cast is necessary but being there on a long term basis can make you either complacent or catatonic.
For now I'm just getting used to the idea. Eventually I'll have to make the leap. I expect it will be much like diving into a mountain lake: thinking about it is more excruciating than actually doing it, and the water turns out to be just fine.
This is perhaps the greatest value in studying under a good teacher. Being kicked out of the comfort zone is momentarily disorienting. There may be a few embarrassing moments at first. But it's the only way to arrive at the next level.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Looks Can Deceive
I saw a cartoon on a bulletin board depicting a boss leaning over into his subordinate's cubicle and saying, "I see you're smiling. Does that mean that your work load isn't totally crushing?" It seems funny but in fact some workplaces have a culture that regards signs of enjoyment with suspicion. If you're having fun, it can't be work, and work is what you're here for, right?
Appearances are sometimes regarded as more important than actual accomplishments. One sign of an extremely appearance-oriented workplace is the "look busy" rule. The funny thing is that sometimes the act of looking busy diverts people from real work.
I've experienced this at various jobs. Years ago I took a zen meditation/mindfulness workshop. One of the exercises we were given required that we pause for a moment every hour (on the hour, if possible), take a few slow breaths and remind ourselves "Be here now." I tried this at work the next day. As I paused at a workroom counter for a moment, a supervisor came running up and anxiously inquired whether I was looking for something to do. I'd stopped for less than 15 seconds and she was already nervous!
"Look busy" is especially pervasive in a stagnant economy, when the people who run workplaces feel pressure to justify every penny spent on staff. So how can you stay productive and sane during those times?
Keeping track of your accomplishments helps; you'll have evidence of your own productivity. If you're able to prove that you can do what needs to be done without rushing around, your supervisor may eventually realize that maybe appearances aren't everything.
I've also found that once I'd been practicing mindfulness for awhile, it became easier to keep a certain detachment even while doing busywork. It grew easier to actually do the "look busy" stuff without feeling frantic.
You might not be able to change the outward situation much, but in a pinch you might be surprised at how quickly you can change your inner picture.
Appearances are sometimes regarded as more important than actual accomplishments. One sign of an extremely appearance-oriented workplace is the "look busy" rule. The funny thing is that sometimes the act of looking busy diverts people from real work.
I've experienced this at various jobs. Years ago I took a zen meditation/mindfulness workshop. One of the exercises we were given required that we pause for a moment every hour (on the hour, if possible), take a few slow breaths and remind ourselves "Be here now." I tried this at work the next day. As I paused at a workroom counter for a moment, a supervisor came running up and anxiously inquired whether I was looking for something to do. I'd stopped for less than 15 seconds and she was already nervous!
"Look busy" is especially pervasive in a stagnant economy, when the people who run workplaces feel pressure to justify every penny spent on staff. So how can you stay productive and sane during those times?
Keeping track of your accomplishments helps; you'll have evidence of your own productivity. If you're able to prove that you can do what needs to be done without rushing around, your supervisor may eventually realize that maybe appearances aren't everything.
I've also found that once I'd been practicing mindfulness for awhile, it became easier to keep a certain detachment even while doing busywork. It grew easier to actually do the "look busy" stuff without feeling frantic.
You might not be able to change the outward situation much, but in a pinch you might be surprised at how quickly you can change your inner picture.
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