Tuesday Update – Writer vs. Sunshine

The woods behind our home are carpeted in Pacific bleeding hearts. It’s much lovelier in person!

These non-stop blue skies are going to ruin the northwest girl. My expectations are being compromised. This may be the first spring that I am longing for rain instead of my usual longing for sunshine!

It is hard to do things indoors when the weather is so fine. Fortunately, there is a lot of work to do outside, too. 

Writing Updates:

I have been sinking deeper into a big writing project. That’s right, The Ragman. Blue, Indigo, and the Ragman himself are becoming most insistent about their story being told. Thus, I must oblige!

What does this mean? My short story output and submissions have nearly come to a full halt. I’m even having a bit of trouble focusing on my regular nonfiction essays. Having trouble, but still managing to soldier on a bit!

If you need something to read, I put out an argument against clock-watching, with the help of the neighborhood dads (the jovial cock-robins). You can read Living Life On Robin Time, free of charge, on Medium.

The newsletter has been a tough nut to crack, but I still have this feeling in my bones that it is time to write one. You can read, once again free of charge, about my struggles with the newsletter, Substack, and (un)social media expectations. Read it here: I Don’t Know What I’m Doing On Substack, and I’m Cool With That.

Reading Updates:

Much of my reading is still taken up with that required for class. In that vein, I read an assortment of Phillis Wheatley-Peters’ poems, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and part of the Decameron.

For pure entertainment, I finished Tress by Brandon Sanderson. This was my intro to Sanderson’s writing, and I must say I will be back for more! I loved the style, particularly of the narrator. It reminded me of the non-Xanth works of Piers Anthony, as well as the Princess Bride, but it was still a perfectly unique work that didn’t feel like it was aspiring to be anything but itself. 

Survive & Thrive:

Mowse the kei truck is still in the shop. No word back yet on whether he can be repaired. Fingers crossed, because I would love to begin acting upon the idea I mentioned in last week’s update. 

As for surviving and thriving around here, we are doing our best. We spent the weekend building a sunshade for our deck. The goal was to spend no money, and we achieved it! We built it from old lumber (we always stop to pick up lumber, whether it is from a free pile on the curb or lumber that has dropped off along the roadside from a poorly secured load). We did need one piece that we didn’t have, but a neighbor came through for us with just what we needed! I will spend the morning today painting the sunshade frame with leftover paint from past projects.

It’s also the week to put in the garden, so I will be busy between writing, school, and other tasks. Growing your own food, free of the industrial system, is a radical and revolutionary act, so I will find a way to get to it all!

Go forth in hope, my friends,

Tuesday Update: Mobile Creative Third Space Dreams

(Not Mowse, but similar) Photo by Julia Volk on Pexels.com

We had our first unbroken week of fine spring weather here in the perpetually damp Northwest. For those not privy to the PNW mindset, lots of sunlight makes us a bit crazy. We know that it will never last, so we run outside to soak up as much of it as possible.

Here on the little homestead, this meant lots of weeding and outdoor projects. We managed to sand down and repaint our entire deck, as well. This, of course, meant we had to host a bonfire and cookout. We also attended a bonfire that friends hosted. 

Why yes, I do smell perpetually like a campfire. Why do you ask?

It also means that I am behind on my usual writing output. Life is lived, and sometimes the living of it leaves little time for writing about it!

Writing Updates:

Some work was put in on the novel project (working title “Ragman”). I’m still playing around with characters and plot, so most of this work went towards character development, but I also wrote a few sample scenes so that I could start to get a better feel for how all the pieces will work together. 

I’ve outlined and begun a few essays, which will be hitting Medium and Substack next week.

Reading Updates:

Spending time working outside also means I slowed down on reading a bit this week. 

I am still working my way through “Tress” and “The Future Is Degrowth.

I also finished “The Way Home” by Mark Boyle. I reread this book every six months or so. It’s a comfort tool at this point. It is also an inspiration, because although I don’t want to live exactly like Mark, I do wish to emulate many of his choices in my own  ways. This is Mark’s last public work, which he wrote in a note with a pencil after he decided to follow a life without wasteful modern tech. He contrasts his journey against the Blasket Islanders, a group of people in Ireland that lived cut off from the modern world in many ways until they were forced to evacuate their homes in the 1950s. I consider this book one of the great inspirational works in my life, so of course I recommend it!

Survive & Thrive:

It’s hard not to thrive when the sun is dealing out photons like candy. Vitamin D is my favorite drug!

My thoughts have turned towards finding more ways to cope within the confines of a capitalistic system that doesn’t value, well, anything of true worth. Unfortunately, the system is set up in such a way that fully eschewing it and remaining part of community is difficult. So, I constantly seek ways to live between the lines of capitalism and to thrive within its margins. 

I’m playing with a brainstorm right now. I have a little Japanese Kei truck named Mowse. This used to be my work truck when I was gardening, but the economy and my failing rotator cuff is only going to allow me to work for a couple of regular clients going forward. 

What to do with Mowse?

I’m still noodling, but here is my idea. What if Mowse stands for Mobile Outreach Wonder SpacE? And, what if this mobile space showed up at local parks or other public areas, similar to an ice cream truck. But, instead of ice cream, what if this space set up an arts and crafts table, where kids and adults could come and create something beautiful and happy, together? What if this space was actually a mobile third space, free of charge, for people to gather and create an impromptu (and, even, perhaps, a lasting) community?

Yes? Yes!

We’ll make books from recycled items, share poetry, have music jams, create art from what is available, read stories to young and the young at heart, and teach the kids and the kids at heart new ways to make, well, anything!

Maybe we’ll add some display racks to the back of Mowse. Sell some art and writing, but not really sell. Suggested price, sure, but I imagine a “pay what you can” model, especially since most of our creations in this household take time but very little money since we scavenge nearly everything we have. I’m not aiming to make money, so much as making sure we can continue to provide art and words and craft and community to everyone!

Things are hard out there. We gotta make it better. 

As always, go forth in hope!

Go Outside Every Damn Day

It’s not a choice, it’s an imperative

What do rain, sun, and snow have in common? If you said they are all types of weather, then you are only half right. The full answer is that they are all great types of weather for being outside.

That’s right, rain and snow can be just as lovely as sunshine.

Not the outdoorsy type? Who cares. Is it raining? So what. You have an overriding fear of moths? Grow up.

I’m not saying this to be unkind. I’m saying this because the kindest thing I can do is to tell you to go outside nearly every damn day. This isn’t about some study making the daily news rounds, although there are more than a few of those. It’s not even about vitamin D. Well, not entirely.

It’s about humility, awe, and being true to your most primal inner human nature.

It’s about being fully alive.

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I Am Not Special

These four words will save your life

Chances are, if your life was anything like mine, you were told by someone at some point that you were special. Usually, it’s a parent, grandparent, or other adult who first says something like this to a child. Sometimes it’s a teacher. Sometimes it is twaddle from an esteem-building children’s story.

“You’re special. You can do anything you want.”

“You can be anything you like when you grow up, because you are special!”

“Don’t worry about what that bully said; they are just jealous because you are so special.”

“You aren’t like the other girls (or guys), you’re special.”

However it is worded, it somehow seeps into our psyche. The world is comprised of special individuals like us, and then there is everyone else. For some reason, we never stop to consider that everyone is walking around feeling special.

Everyone thinks they are the main character. Yet, I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that none of us is the main character. Main characters live happily or unhappily ever after. All of us die at the end of our story.

No ever after.

Nada.

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Pumpkins and Spice, Everything Ain’t Nice

Why can’t I love autumn?

I gaze through the square frame of my window. It makes reality into a painting of a magical world beyond my warm kitchen.

The lawn is green again, now that the summer heat is gone and the fall rains have begun again in earnest. Bright yellow pin oak leaves and rich crimson maple leaves dot the emerald lawn like candy sprinkles. The beauty is almost too much to take in at once.

Like a coven of merry witches, the evergreen cones of the giant sequoias sway in the wind as they encircle the yard. They are wise women sent to watch over us and protect us from the worst that the winter gales will bring. Before them stand the skeletal branches of maple, alder, birch, and oak. A few tattered but joyfully vibrant leaves still cling to their outstretched fingers, all the more shocking against the listless gray sky above.

I cannot deny that autumn is a time of immense beauty.

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I Paint My Poverty In Beauty

By doing so, we become rich

I am grateful to love old things. Corners worn smooth through years of love and use. Patches and mending threads give proof of adoration to well-worn garments. Repairs and mending are nothing more nor less than a bandage on a loved one’s knee, a kiss and a promise that all will be well again soon.

Old things, like you and I, are perfect in their imperfection.

All I can do is imagine the dissatisfaction and unhappiness for those that depend on the new and shiny, the unobtainably trendy, to bring them joy. Especially when their income is as paltry as ours. It must be painful to covet clean lines, Pottery Barn dreams, and the plastic haberdashery of the finest modern design.

Loving old things lends us the privilege of genteel poverty. Castoffs from a century ago, sometimes less and sometimes more, feel luxurious compared to particle board knock-offs of modern designs.

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Forget the Grind, Hustle Culture, and the Great Lock-In

It’s time for an Industrious Revolution

Whether you call it grinding, hustle culture, or the newest moniker to hit the internets, the “great lock-in,” it all boils down to the same thing — trading away your life energy for things you have been to told to want and need for the benefit of billionaires and shareholders who, frankly, don’t give a damn if you live or die.

Since the dawn of the industrial revolution, the general masses have been trained to grind away as many waking moments as possible to “earn a living.”

I have a secret to tell you. That’s right, lean in and I shall whisper it: No one needs to “earn” a living — it was granted to you the moment you emerged from the womb. Living, that is, not all the detritus and stuff that comes with it.

As animals, living isn’t something we are meant to earn, but to take. We take the air we breathe as we need. We should be able to take shelter where we can find it, although certain greedy human animals have done what they can to take more shelter than they need so they can fool the rest of us into thinking we need to earn it.

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Without Effort, There Is No Contentment

The homespun foodie’s week in review, Oct 5–11

Nothing in life should come without effort, with the exceptions of sleep and love.

I know that I harp on the same ol’ themes over and over —

  • There is enough for all of our need, but not all of our greed.
  • The simple things are the best things.
  • Waste not, want not, and be fulfilled.
  • We are not main characters in the tableau of life.
  • Good food, good people, and hope is what makes the world go around.

These themes may be simple, perhaps even a bit old fashioned, but I shall take them any day over the current world themes of greed, consumption, hate, and destruction. Call me a curmudgeon, but those viral videos of destroying things for “ASMR” or unboxing things to engender envious consumption or behaving badly simply to encourage engagement really upsets me. They aren’t just a symptom of the hatefulness of the billionaire class that has destroyed modern culture, they are also direct cause of it.

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Why I Am Done With Human Domestication

Are you a tame, wild, or domesticated animal?

Photo by Christopher Windus on Unsplash

The half acre of land that makes up my front yard is a mixture of lawn grasses, invasive plants, and native flora. Each morning, a menagerie of native mule and white-tailed deer, robins, and douglas squirrels commune and compete with introduced eastern gray squirrels, barred owls, and wild turkeys.

All are wild, although some of the mule deer and douglas squirrels are tamed due to their own choices and human meddling.

I, on the other hand, am domesticated. Uneasily I pace within the cage, both this physical home with window sizes and wall heights prescribed by international building codes, and the psychological home of for-profit work, infinite growth economics, and modern constructs of the good and proper life.

Inside, I am a wild animal, willing to be tamed but chafing at the bit of forced domestication.

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Happiness Will Ruin Your Life

Choose contentment and you choose life.

Photo by Timothy Rose on Unsplash

26 years ago Irvine Welsh’s Choose Life Monologue from his book Trainspotting made it’s movie debut:

“Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves.”

And, like so many before and after me, that’s exactly what I set about doing.

Although Welsh was writing about the heroin epidemic destroying Edinburgh, these words perfectly sum up the American dream that was piped into my house via Friday Night Laugh Packs and Saturday Morning Cartoons throughout my 1980s childhood. It was the same dream, now upsized, that was sold to my parents in the decades following the wars that DIDN’T end all wars.

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