Ora et Labora (Blog #777)

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Currently it’s 8:30, and I’m excited about the idea of getting the blog done earlier than normal and having the rest of the evening to myself. Of course, writing this blog is a very “myself” activity. It’s like a letter written by me to me (that anyone else with an internet connection can read). But it’s also a job. Granted, a job I don’t get paid for in dollars, but a job nonetheless. On some level, it’s a job I “have” to do. Because I’ve chosen to and am committed to sticking to that decision. All this equals the fact that there’s a certain amount of build-up or pressure every day (every damn day) to get this thing done, as well as a certain amount of relief every day (every damn day) when it’s over.

Until the next day, of course.

In the beginning of this project, I worried about what I would say. I’d agonize over it throughout the day and fret about it when sitting down to the keyboard. Some days (or nights, rather), I’d mentally scratch my head for hours before typing the first word. Then I’d erase it, thinking it wasn’t the right one. And whereas when I sat down tonight I felt a tinge of “I don’t have anything to say,” I’ve come to trust The Process. I know if I start with the basic facts–the truth–the rest will follow. This is why so many nights I begin with what time it is. Sure, it gives you, the reader, a context. This is where we are. But it’s not like it’s that interesting. No. It’s simply a primer, a warm up, a way for me to get started. There are nights I go back and delete my entire first paragraph. Because once I get to the end, I realize the warm-up isn’t important. Just as often, I leave it in.

It does, after all, contribute to my total word count.

I’ve said before that when I sit down to write, I rarely know at the onset if the day’s (or night’s) particular blog is going to be “good.” I mean, I think they’re all good but I certainly think some are better than others. Even when I think a blog is blah, there’s always SOMETHING I like it about–a certain phrase, a joke. So even though the reward of the “best” blogs are enough to keep me coming back every day (every damn day), the reward of these little nuggets (as one friend recently called them) motivates me even more. They’re like pulling a rabbit out of a hat or materializing a coin out of thin air. That is, I often sit down with no idea of what to say, and an idea simply appears.

Voila!

In her famous Ted Talk about creativity, writer Elizabeth Gilbert says that as creatives we can’t MAKE something wonderful or magical appear. That, she says, is basically up to the gods, up to wherever ideas come from. Our job, she continues, is simply to show up. To put our butts in chairs and tell the universe, I’m listening. Talk to me.

You know, if you want to.

Earlier today I read about the Latin phrase ora et labora, which means “pray and work.” The text I was reading said that some schools of religion credit salvation to “all grace.” Others credit salvation to “all work.” Rather than putting things completely on God’s back or completely on your own, the concept of ora et labora distributes the weight. “Pray” is asking God to do his part. “Work” is doing yours. As James says, “Faith without works is dead,” and (by implication), “Works without faith is dead.”

Ora et labora is a religious or spiritual concept, but I think it easily applies to creativity or any serious endeavor one chooses to tackle. It’s the idea, I think, Elizabeth Gilbert was driving at but said in a different way. That is, in any project one undertakes in their personal, creative, or spiritual life, there are certain things they can’t control, certain things that are left up to The Unknown. This is God’s Part. If you focused solely on this side of the equation, it’s possible you’d simply “pray” and never take any action whatsoever. Before my dad started going to the gym, he used to say, “Why bother? I’m still going to die.” The other side of the equation, of course, is that certain things ARE in your control. These are The Known things like going to the gym to take care of your body or putting your butt in a chair to write or create something. This is Your Part. This is “work,” and they don’t call it work for nothing.

Every day (every damn day).

This is where grace meets effort.

I’m not saying you (or even I) have to putt your butt in a chair seven days a week in order for inspiration to occur. Inspiration, that’s what the book I read this afternoon called the marriage of God’s Part and Your Part, the marriage of ora et labora. I really like this idea (and it’s been my experience), that I’m not working alone here, that it’s not completely up to ME to make inspiration happen. Sure, I’ve got a job to do and I’m gonna SHOW UP (my butt is currently in a chair) and do it. But I can’t FORCE a good idea to magically appear anymore than I can force the sun to rise. It either will or it won’t. Still, speaking from experience, if you sleep in, you can’t SEE the sun rise. Likewise, I don’t think you can see a good idea if you’re not in the habit of putting your butt in a chair and sorting through a million bad ones. It takes a habit, a discipline, to know when the gods are talking to you. This is where prayer meets work–where grace meets effort–where you don’t get all of the credit, but you do get some of it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s nothing you can do to change the seasons or hurry them along.

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The Path of Totality (Blog #144)

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Last night I stayed in Kansas City with my friend Deb and her boyfriend, David, and this morning Deb’s sister, Aimee, joined us for sugar, carbs, coffee, and–after all that–other celestial wonders. If you haven’t heard already, there was a total eclipse today. I’ve been a little nervous this week that I’d “miss it,” but when I woke up this morning to cinnamon rolls, I thought, Screw the eclipse. This is better. Fortunately, I didn’t have to choose one or the other. And I have to admit–the eclipse was amazing. As one t-shirt said, it was “totality awesome.”

Feel free to roll your eyes.

In anticipation of traffic, we hit the road about nine, after David checked his kids out of school for a “once in a lifetime” event.” Honestly, if you held a gun to my head (please don’t), I couldn’t tell you exactly where we went. I just know it was about an hour away and was in the path of totality, meaning the sun would be completely covered up by the moon. As a bonus, the moon as ALSO completely covered up by clouds.

I mean, that’s basically what happened. As soon as we got to the farm we were going to (David said it belonged to like a family member of a friend of a family member), it started raining. A lot. So Deb and Aimee and I played Uno with the kids (in the car) while David took a work call. I normally don’t like card games, but I’ll say this–they’re more fun when you win and children cry.

I’m kidding. No one cried.

Eventually, it stopped raining, and the eclipse began. We still had a lot of clouds, but we were able to see most of the first half of it. Part of me actually thought having the clouds was exciting. It was like playing hide-and-seek. Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Another part of me was disappointed that we didn’t see the entire thing. This is a big deal, I thought, doesn’t the weather get that? But what do you do? You can’t make the clouds go away, shoo them off to another state the same way you’d encourage a fly to leave your cheeseburger. Still, even with the clouds completely covering the moon completely covering the sun, it was pretty amazing at the point of total eclipse. Except for the horizon, the sky was dark. The air got colder. The birds stopped chirping.

I ate Cool Ranch Doritos.

Like everyone else, Aimee and I took pictures. Then when the sun started to shine again, people clapped. Honestly, it was a little half-hearted, but I’m going to blame that on the clouds. But it still felt rather primal, this celebration of the idea that even when there are dark times, the light eventually breaks through.

The traffic showed up on the way home. David took a lot of back roads, but I have never seen so many cars amongst the cornfields. It was like Field of Dreams. (If you build a total solar eclipse, they will come.) As David drove, it started raining again, and puddles of water cropped up along the highways. At one point, traffic came to a standstill because two lanes of traffic were trying to squeeze into one lane of traffic at the point where there was a small creek of water running across the road. Well, apparently David’s a badass who doesn’t mind driving on the shoulder. The next thing I knew, he was splashing through the water in the unoccupied lane, then off we went, a string of other cars behind us who just needed permission go against the grain.

This evening I’ve watched as photos and videos of the eclipse have flooded Facebook the way the rain in Kansas City is, even now, flooding the streets. Some of my friends have commented, “I wish I’d had a pair of glasses,” the same way I’ve thought, I wish I’d been somewhere with fewer clouds. I guess we all do that, tell ourselves our day would’ve been better IF, our lives would BE BETTER IF. And yet that’s something–and I personally hate to admit this in writing–that we can’t know for sure. We just can’t. No one has a crystal ball.

And no–a disco ball will not do.

What I do know is that I laughed a lot today. I haven’t seen Deb and Aimee in over five years, and both of them are hilarious. Maybe I didn’t see those crazy shadows on the ground during the total eclipse climax (or whatever it’s called), but I did reconnect with my friends over cinnamon rolls and Uno, and–let’s face it–that’s not something that happens every day. The writer Elizabeth Gilbert says, “The action is here.” I take that to mean that we can IF and WISH all day long, but that’s only half-living, something akin to the path of “partiality.” Of course, real life isn’t something you wish and dream about–it’s something that’s right in front of you. What’s more, it’s whole and complete just the way it is. So perhaps fully accepting and living what’s right in front of you could also be called the path of totality.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a lot of magic around you.

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stardust and fairies (blog #2)

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Last night I had a dream about my friend Hunter. As background, I met Hunter several years ago when he was still a senior in high school and I was working for a local magazine as a writer. Hunter had written a play that his drama department was putting on, and it was kind of a big deal that a school was producing a play written by a student, so I wrote a story about it. (I’d share it with you, but the magazine changed names and websites and took down all the old stories. Bummer.)

Almost immediately, I liked Hunter. I found him intelligent, talented, adorable, and charming, and we started to form a friendship. He’s now living in Los Angeles, trying to make it as an actor, and we maybe get together once a year. Even though I don’t see Hunter very often, I feel about him today the way I felt when I first met him–I love him unconditionally. What I mean by that is that although I’m not in love with him, I just love him. Like, it doesn’t matter what he does or doesn’t do, and it doesn’t matter how often we talk, or if he comes to town and doesn’t call. I just care about him, I want him to have a good life, and that’s it.

I can’t say exactly why some people get unconditional love just like that and others either have to warm up to it or never get it at all. But I think the answer has to do with stardust and fairies.

The author Elizabeth Gilbert tells a story in her book Big Magic about meeting the author Ann Patchett, exchanging a kiss, and later finding out that Ann was halfway through writing a novel that was almost detail-for-detail the same as one Elizabeth had given up writing years before (but had never talked to Ann about). Elizabeth says that she believes ideas sort of float around, knocking on people’s doors until they find someone who will let them in, work with them, and help them become real things. She says that because she couldn’t finish the book, it went to someone else. And she thinks the idea jumped from her to Ann when they kissed.

I love shit like this.

Last night I heard Ann speak at the Fayetteville Public Library. When someone asked her about her side of the story involving Elizabeth Gilbert, she said it happened basically like Liz said, although she added that they’d been drinking before they kissed and that no body fluids were exchanged. As for the interpretation of what happened, she said that Liz was more spiritual than she was, that Liz was more “stardust and fairies.” She said that the coincidence was hard to deny, but that she was more “meat and potatoes” about it. I guess she told Liz, “So you’re telling me I was the book’s second choice?”

Personally, I like stardust and fairies over meat and potatoes. Call it God, the universe, your soul, or your subconscious. Call it stardust and fairies. But I like the idea that something wise is driving the ship or at least on board the ship, helping to steer us in the right direction.

I once had a friend tell me that when you’re gay, you don’t just come out of the closet. He said, “First you accept it in someone else, then you accept it in yourself.” I think the statement is pretty profound, largely because I think its application goes beyond sexuality.

My friend Eugenia says, “If you spot it, you got it.” Normally, we think of this truth in a negative sense, like if you notice how someone else complains all the fucking time, it probably means that you complain all the fucking time. (It sucks, I know.) But I think this truth applies across the board. Getting back to Hunter, if there’s someone in your life that you think is intelligent, talented, adorable, and charming, it probably means that you are too. First you accept it in someone else, then you accept it in yourself.

In my experience, accepting the good parts about myself is a process. It’s much easier to recognize them in someone else. It’s easier to love someone else unconditionally than it is to love myself unconditionally. But I think that’s why people like Hunter show up in our lives. They help steer us in the right direction. They help remind us of our deep capacity to love. Even better, when we give love, we get love. It’s like a trick the universe plays, like when you’re walking down the street and see a person in a shop window. At first you think it’s someone else, but then you realize, “Oh wait, that’s me over me. That’s me I’m loving.”

My therapist and I talk a lot about dreams. A couple of months ago, I had a dream that I was riding on the back of a swan, and (go figure), Katie Holmes was riding on another swan next to me. Both of us were flying over a big body of water. (Water shows up a lot in my dreams and is universally associated with the subconscious and emotions.) My therapist said that dreaming of a swan seemed pretty auspicious (she likes to use that word), and that swans are associated with grace under pressure, that it was like my subconscious recognizing that I was doing the best I can during this time of change.

When we talked about Katie Holmes, my therapist asked me what I associated with Katie Holmes. (When it comes to dreams, it’s not really about the other person; it’s about what the other person makes you think of.) I said that when I think of Katie Holmes, I think of her character on Dawson’s Creek and the episode in which she sang “On My Own” from Les Mis. So my therapist said the dream was also about my feeling alone in the world right now.

So get this. My therapist comes back the next session and says that she’s been researching swans. She says that she found out that they are always found in pairs. Swans are never alone.

I love shit like this.

In the dream last night about Hunter, Hunter and I were in a hotel. Hotels, like water, show up a lot for me. They represent times of transition–like, I don’t know–living with your parents. I haven’t discussed the dream with my therapist yet, but I’ve been at this long enough to know that the dream has something to do with being in a time of transition and seeing myself as intelligent and talented (and maybe even adorable and worthy of unconditional love) even though I haven’t made it to my next destination.

When I came to the library this afternoon, I knew that I was going to blog about Hunter and the dream, so I started looking for a photo of Hunter on my personal Instagram account. The one I found was taken over four years ago, when Hunter and I were hanging out at IHOP. It was the first time I found out about his nervous habit–a habit I’d forgotten about until this afternoon–twisting paper napkins into the shape of animals.

Well that’s not exactly right. Hunter doesn’t make animals out of paper napkins. Hunter makes just one animal out of paper napkins. And maybe you’ll look at the picture and see meat and potatoes.  But I look at the picture and see stardust and fairies. I look at the picture and am reminded that I’m being steered in the direction of unconditional love, both for others and for myself. I’m reminded that I’m not alone. Why? Take a look at the photo I took long before therapy or any of the dream interpretation ever started. Hunter makes paper…swans.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Kindness is never a small thing."