On Music

Music and I live in parallel worlds that don't really communicate well. I'm boxed and happy in my world, music boxed and happy in another, somewhere too distant to imagine. Every now and then someone comes to visit me though, people that travel to the world of music often. They bring with them a new band, and offer it to me as something I would enjoy. I usually love it. I'll listen to it over and over again. Until a new visitor brings a new musical offering.

William Blake

A quote from William Blake; A poem; Some thoughts on art and contentment.

***

"Where I to love money, I should lose all power of original thought. Desire of gain deadens the genius in man. My business is not to gather gold, but to make glorious shapes."
    -- William Blake *

I have this struggle: The more I try to monetize my art the more it fades away from me. Which is frustrating, as I want to make a living from my art. I want to work full time on writing and painting, but my creative spark disappears the more I try to make that happen. So I have this funny sort of cycle. I play, creating out of enjoyment, and my output increases. Then I start to get ideas. "Now's the time...let's package this up and try and sell it somehow." Then it all becomes work and toil and the creative spigot is shut off. I wander in darkness for a while, then, much later, I remember how much I enjoyed art, and the cycle starts anew.

Advice

The best Advice I ever got,
That Writers Write and Painters Paint,
Is quickly set aside while trying
To make a Product from my Art.
How I forget my Love of Words!
The wond’rous Joys of Scribbled Thoughts
And Strokes of Colored Ink and Wash
Are Lamps that Light my Space Inside.
But wanting Gold from all my Shapes,
Light fades, and I soon cease to Play.

I'm beginning to think about art differently though. Instead of Art as a viable means to make a living, which is something I keep trying to force it to be, I'm beginning to think of art simply as a blessing. I am so incredibly rich to have the leisure to write or paint. I can afford oil paints. I have access to poetry, books, museums, etc. In the grand sceme of history, I really have an unprecidented amount of time and resources to spend on such things. I may not ever have the opportunity to work full-time on my art, but compared to what William Blake had, who lived most of his life in poverty, I am incredibly rich. I find that I am becoming content and grateful that I can practice any sort of art at all.



* Quote from William Blake: The Gates of Paradise, p136.

2008 in Review

Last year I purposed to start taking public transportation to work. Schedules being what they were, to make it work I would have to leave the house at about 6:30 in the morning. Normally I was leaving around 9:00. Or 10:00. (Sometimes as late as 11:00). I am not a morning person.

My wife was pretty surprised though when I started getting up early to get to the train on time. I've been taking the train for the last year now. And it's been great.

I have a 20-30min train ride plus a 10 minute bus ride into work now, which I've used to read, write, or just unwind. This turns out to be a lot of time. While I used to think of myself as "quite a reader", the reality is I'd buy lots of books, and look at them, but not necessarily read them. I'd probably read parts of them. But throughout the year maybe only read half a dozen books all the way through, which is something that embaresses me.

This past year, thanks to the train, I read 27 books, and that feels really good. I even made a new rule for myself: I must read one book at a time. "This is practical," I told myself, "you only have room for a single book while on the train". (Normally, I'd be "reading" anywhere from 4-12 books at a time.)

Throughout the year, this rule ended up branching out into other areas of my life. I had many, many projects in various states of completion, and I started to make some cuts. Normally I "put projects on hold" indefinitely, but this time I called them quits. Threw things out. "Never going to do that." I told myself. Some would call that sad, but the sadder thing is being so bogged down with projects I don't actually care about that I never end up working on what my heart really enjoys. Net result of the purging: Less stress, less distractions, less to think about, more space, more time.

What did I do this year then? I learned to play Tennis. I learned to swim. I went to Comic-Con where I rediscovered my creative spark. I saw Neil Gaiman read a chapter out of his new book. I wrote a good chunk of my first Novel. I went to Seattle. I wrote a lot of poetry, and even got some recognition for it.

When I look back on it all, thinking about the goals I set last year, and the goals I'm looking to set this coming year, it came to my attention that my choice to take the train really enabled the completion of a lot of my other goals. I did most of my writing on the train, and nearly all my reading. As I was thinking about this I came across this post which made this little comment about New Years Resolutions: "Don’t make resolutions, create a new habit. It lasts longer".

That's when I realized taking the train was never a "goal" like that of writing a novel. It was a change of behavior (a goal in and of itself to be sure). It was a habit. It was a habit that really enabled a lot of other desirable behaviors to flourish. I began to think about my goals for 2009 in this way--what change of behavior would most empower me?

For now I settled on this, the idea that first thing in the morning (or close to) I'd sit down and ask myself what I need to get done, then writing those things down. This happens automatically for my wife, she couldn't turn it off if she tried. But I'm the opposite. I can go days and weeks without ever checking in with myself and realize I'm supposed to actually be doing something besides starting new projects. Hopefully this will help keep me connected to my intentions.

A New Little Poem

My NaNoWriMo results, plus a story that led to a little poem.

***



NaNoWriMo is over. I did not reach my goal of 50,000 words. I didn't write anything during our trip to Seattle, and I haven't written much since. I still have a strong desire to finish, but I've realized two things. 1) 50,000 words is really going to be about the halfway mark in the story, meaning I now expect the finished draft to be in the neighborhood of 80,000 - 100,000 words. 2) It's going to take a while to write all that. I'm still debating what to do with these realizations, how to fit the novel into my life, and at what intensity it should be.

When I started NaNoWriMo one of my concerns was whether or not it would interrupt what had been a rather steady flow of little poems I had been writing since last August. Sometimes (alright, quite often) when I leave one thing to do another, I never return to finish. So I was quite pleased when on the bus ride home the other day something amusing happened, and before I knew it'd written another little poem:

O.J.'s Going to Jail

Over the radio the quote
Was spoken with the cheeky host
A trifle gleeful in his tone,
"Now O.J.'s saying," he began,
"'I didn't know it was illegal.'"
On our way home, we working folk
All turned to one another, snickered,
And placing buds into our ears
We did enjoy our Friday ride
Away from all our weekly woes.

Poetry Contest Victory!

Dinner Guests, originally uploaded by brweaver.

At the beginning of the month I entered a poetry contest, and I placed as a runner up! I was very excited to hear the news upon my return from our Thanksgiving adventure in Seattle. Here is a larger version of my runner-up winning poem.

You can see more examples of blackout poems here.

Writing Desk

Writing Desk, originally uploaded by brweaver.

I'm (nearly) half-way through my first novel. I'm participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) this year, which has really been a fun challenge. The idea is to write 50,000 words during the 30 days of November, which is a tough goal.

So far I've been quite pleasantly surprised by a few things:

1) That the story seems to be there. The more I write the more it all sort of flows out. I haven't hit any major road blocks or any abnormalities, and aside from being slightly behind in my writing I'm doing pretty well.

2) I didn't plan this book out to the letter. I have a rough idea of what happens, and how it ends, but not much more. I'm hand-writing it cover to cover in a journal, and it's so surprising to me how characters come to life and the details sort of figure themselves out just by following the logical trajectory of who my characters are what they would do and so forth.

3) Writing largely from my experience as a homeschooler, with the distinct coming of age experience homeschoolers have as the focal point, I find myself surprised how nearly all of my characters shift in and out of likability. They can be so charming in one scene, and so obnoxious in the next. It feels good to write them in a way I can only describe as honest.

Regarding that Positive Psychology...

Author Tim Ferris had a quote on his blog from Psychologist Martin Seligman that I found pretty interesting:

There are three levels to happiness: pleasure, the delight you get from chocolate, fast cars, and sex; engagement, the feeling of “flow” you get when you’re doing something you’re good at; and meaning, the fulfillment you get from being engaged in an effort greater than yourself. Pleasure is ephemeral and contributes very little to real happiness...but meaningful engagement brings lasting contentment.

My response question is, how many "happy" Christian Artists do you know? They seem like a group that should have both "flow" and "fulfillment".


I found the original quote here, and you can watch a video presentation of Seligman's ideas here.