Serenity, attachment and growth; enlightenment through crafting

The Pearl cat woke me up this morning by being loudly disturbed about the first mate locking him outside last night, so I'm awake with the respectable people for once, sitting on the floor with my laptop, drinking mint tea and reflecting on all kinds of deep things. This is apparently a natural consequence of my being sleep-deprived in a way that involves being up far too early. (At least, the reflecting part is natural for sleep deprivation. The mint tea and sitting on the floor are less common side effects.)

So far, aside from making tea, renewing a couple of shop items, and chatting with people on Twitter, I've used my unexpected morning to work on spinning some batts I've had stashed for a little over two years.


Gypsy batts from Enchanted Knoll Farm
See all that lovely texture and variation? I'd forgotten, in my quest to spin smoother and thinner yarn, what it was like to spin solely for the sake of spinning. This morning, in making spun order out of that seeming chaos, I rediscovered it. That's a testament to how well-prepared these batts really are — they're not uniform, so I have to pay attention to what I'm doing to spin them reasonably evenly, but they're easy to spin, without stuck-together clumps that distract me from the purity of adding twist, drafting, feeding yarn onto bobbin, repeating. For the first time in a long time, I wanted to keep spinning past my allotted time, never mind if the tea got cold.

Interestingly enough, this fiber was in my stash last year during my first Tour de Fleece, and I stared at it quite a few times without bringing myself to try spinning it. I didn't trust myself last year to do it justice; I also didn't want to let go of that bit of treasure in my stash. Today — or really, yesterday, which was when I started spinning the first batt — I was finally ready. I was no longer attached to it being just as it was; it, and I, were ready to transform.

And this is why attachment is forbidden to Jedi (so quoth Anakin Skywalker). Attachment obstructs change, progress and growth, and it certainly obstructs one's ability to promote peace and justice in the galaxy. ;)

Anakin's not my favorite Jedi by a long shot, or even a great example of how one should behave (uh, yeah — being whiny, melodramatic, dishonest, and having rage issues doesn't exactly make one a prime candidate for Best Jedi of the Year OR Best Person of the Year...), but the point behind the "attachment is forbidden" policy is still solid, in pretty much every area of life — at least, in mine.

Now, it's extremely important to differentiate between attachment and passion. Attachment may be potentially bad, but passion can be very good. True, it's also on the list of Jedi no-no's, but IMO, to some extent it's okay even if you're a Jedi, no matter what the letter of the law says. Being passionate about justice, for instance, but not letting that passion control you, would be great if you were a Jedi because it would probably inspire dedication. The key is not letting passion control you. Letting your passions inspire and motivate you is the positive side of passion, but when they start to control you, things veer back into the irrational attachment category.

Of course, if you're not a Jedi, you have a lot of leeway for letting your passions control you, since your attachment is pretty unlikely to be a matter of life and death if your passion is, say, cooking, making yarn, designing jewelry, or offering great customer service. ;)

Still, you get the point. Reason plus passion can equal creativity, but attachment plus creative desire can equal creative block.

That also occurred to me the other day when I was doing some lovely lovely math related to new spinning fiber plans (see, math IS useful — it should be required that math teachers provide a variety of concrete, real-life examples as to why kids might want to use their math skills in the future). I had two pounds of fiber waiting to be split up, imbued with colors, and carded into nom nom nom batts, and even after rechecking my math to correct all the ludicrous errors, I found that two pounds was an ample amount for what I want to do. Amazing!

Why amazing? Because two months ago, two pounds of fiber seemed like nowhere near enough. And that was because I was attached to my stash.


Getting un-attached help me turn this around-two-pounds of fiber into...


...THIS glittery pile of happy fiber! ;D
The point of my babbling becomes clear now, I hope. ;) Even two months ago, my attachment was driving me to hoard my precious spinning fiber, even the stuff I had bought specifically to dye and blend and spin for the shop. Like, uhhh ... my attachments were literally keeping me from producing what I need to produce to have money to feed me and my cats and my boyfriend, and nice things like, you know, a house to live in.

So where the heck did my attachment go?

I think the real answer has multiple parts. For one thing, I've been slowly untangling my brain, even by setting goals and failing to meet them. (I read somewhere recently that truly successful business people don't go into business expecting to succeed — they go into business expecting to fail and to learn how to succeed. I doubt it's universally true, but the idea has a truthful ring to it...) Untangling my brain inherently means letting go of ingrained, unhealthy ideas, so naturally a lot of random attachments are getting loosened in the process.

For another thing, I've reached a financial turning point. I hate to admit my hard-won savings are looking thin, but there it is; they are. However, I'm not even a little sad about using that financial cushion to give myself time to untangle my head and really figure out where I want to go with my business and my self. It's something I should have done a long time ago and didn't because I bowed to the ill-considered opinion of a figure of some authority, who really should have known better — and now I have proof that I should listen to myself first, then to others only if what they're saying jives with what my heart and soul say. But having less money to work with now gives me more incentive to look at what attachments I'm being silly about, and what things I own really contribute positively to my life.

Oh, I'm not a glowing Zen icon of perfect emotional balance (...yet? ;)), and I still feel cranky or disappointed or negative some days, but I can see myself shedding more attachments as the summer goes by. I'm walking without my emotional crutches more often now.

And that's what attachments are, really, not just for me, but for many people — a crutch; a poor substitute for true balance and an impediment to self-reliance. Interestingly enough, letting go of personal crutches is making me more creative, more productive, and maybe even a better business owner. And all this personal growth is coming out of my decision to be a crafter, to use my savings, to take a risk, to follow my dreams, to stop letting fear-based advice sound like a reasonable choice for my life. Funny how it works like that. ;)

"Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden. Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is essential to a Jedi's life. So, you might say that we are encouraged to love." Anakin Skywalker, Star Wars, Episode II: Attack of the Clones

Fun with goal-setting: dreaming resolutions in haiku

I had good intentions. I wasn't going to spam the blog today. I was going to produce something physical, tangible — maybe spin yarn or paint a treasure box. Really. And I told myself I would try to save my "resolutions" post for when I had something really meaningful to say.

But the super-long blogospheric grapevine sucked me in and spat me out on the doorstep of Fashion Incubator's funny make your resolutions in haiku idea. And how could I resist? Inappropriate poetry is one of my favorite kinds (and haiku are almost as funny as limericks).

So here are mine. My "resolutions," let it be known, are not of the "do this or else feel bad" variety. I don't hold with the "resolutions are bad, goals are good" idea that some people have. I think resolving is a fine, admirable act.

Merriam-Webster online says it's, among other things, "the act of analyzing a complex notion into simpler ones," "the act of answering: solving," "the act of determining," and "firmness of resolve." Those are all good things in my book. Even the jargony definitions hint at positive action:

• "The point in a literary work at which the chief dramatic complication is worked out." (Wouldn't it be nice if this were the point at which complications vanished in a flash?)
• "The process or capability of making distinguishable the individual parts of an object." (Breaking down a problem or goal is a good step on the way to achieving it.)
• "A measure of the sharpness of an image." (Sounds like a poetic way to point out that your resolutions can measure how sharp your goal focus is.)

Ahem. Anyway. Seriousness aside, here are my haiku-ified resolutions. Can you guess what their un-haiku-flavored versions might be? And what would your resolutions look like in haiku form?

#1:
Oy! Too much fabric!
New rule: stuff into three bins.
Otherwise? Use it.

#2:
The globe is calling.
I’ll visit a special place
because I said so.

#3:
Savings are good stuff,
So I’ll add one thousand bucks
to my stash this year.

#4:
Come hither, my friends!
My Web traffic must increase,
or else I’ll go broke.

#5:
Spruce up my products:
Back to myth and magic roots
I go; dream with me.

#6:
I’ve been a slacker.
Now I must check off five goals
from the waiting list.

#7:
Site needs revamping,
So with my new diploma—
Poof! pretty layout.

#8:
Biz charity rules,
and thus I must rule this year.
Good-will projects, go!


#9:
Feeling dull lately.
Brighter: art, mysticism.
Ahhh. Soul feels better.


#10:
Need identity!
Myself, my skills and business
will show off our cool.

#11:
I love green and clean,
But my Web host needs greening.
Research, then save Earth.

12 New Year's lessons for a meaningful 2010

Reflections were a-flying last night, across the Internets, the blogosphere, the Twitterverse, etc. Lots of people had a lot of good thoughts; it would take a seeming eternity of blog posts to write about them all. As endless maundering isn't really what this blog is about, hey presto! I present here the lessons I gleaned from a few of the thoughtful word-packets released into the universe yesterday. You're welcome. ;D

From Build Your Online Empire with Connie Ragen Green

• Do what you believe can’t be done.
• It’s all right to take risks, and do what you think you can’t do.

From Christiane White on Twitter:

• Remember to pamper yourself, dress up, and otherwise indulge in treats and special treatment. Everyone deserves to experience feeling special.

From Tara of The Organic Sister:

• No situation or person is completely naked — so reserve judgement, because you don’t know what information you’re missing.
• Your choices make a difference. Even small choices can lead to big change, and small changes can add up to a movement.
• Try your best to do and be what you dream of, try even though and when it’s hard ... and have the courage and strength to realize when it’s time to stop spending energy on something.
• Possibility is powerful. Remain open to what may come.

From Bill Walsh of The Slot:

• Even though 2000 wasn’t the beginning of a new century or millennium, 2010 is the beginning of a new decade (because, silly humans that we are, we don’t count decades using the same system we count centuries or millennia).
• ...But I’m still going to make up a new word to differentiate “decade” and “10-year period counted from the beginning of a century or millennium.” Pbbt.

From Bonnie Jeanne at PostMuse:

• Projects that have lain dormant can still be resurrected into fulfilling and inspiring new(ish) projects. Don’t let unmet expectations and hopes turn a project negative for you; cherish it until it’s ready to be reborn.
• Don’t be afraid to keep hold of things that other people think are meaningless — as long as they bring positivity to you, that’s what matters.

And from both Tara at Blonde Chicken and a casual tweet from author Elizabeth Bear:

• Begin as you mean to go on.

Happy 2010. :D May it be more useful and meaningful than not.

Emergency creative unsticking (4 ways to escape a rut)

This morning appears to be full of what Debby (of Starbaby Readings and Gems) would call serendipity. Maybe the world is sending me a message, or maybe my internal whinging has finally activated my info-magnetic powers. The theme this morning: Unstick yourself, so you can go out and do great things.

First I came across Fabeku Fatunmise's free sacred sound download, which he entertainingly calls "From ack! to awesome in less than 10 minutes." The mere act of listening to his free-but-not-skimpy sound clips is supposed to make events MOVE again, and they're free, and I could use a little forward motion, so what the hey — I'll give it a go, and I'll post here with my results. (It's actually a little scary imagining that listening to drumming would loosen the giant mess of stuck that I currently live in. If it really were that easy, that would be mind-boggling.) That's Unsticking Method #1: Listen to good music.

Not half an hour later, I found the Destuckification Station through Victoria Brouhard's latest blog post, on how it's not good to do things just because they're "good for you" (with which I completely agree, on principle and also because I know better but maddeningly keep doing things for the wrong reasons anyway).

Normally, I'm turned off by the "big long Web page of why you should buy this more than $50 product" marketing tactic that Destuckification uses ... but! Ms. Brouhard credits them with preventing "major freakouts"; their pitch isn't 10 pages long; the sales copy is written sensibly and is well-edited; the Web design is pleasant-looking; and there's a buy-back guarantee. No, I haven't bought the package, but I'm seriously considering buying it as a gift for someone who could use rescuing from some serious freaking out. ;) (I assume that "If you don't love it, I'll buy it back" would apply in the case of "He loves it so little he isn't using it at all.") That's Unsticking Method #2: Spend time in good, unstuck company.

The above two links popped up while my boyfriend and first-mate-in-business was writing his "morning pages" — three pages of stream-of-consciousness to get the crap out of his head and into a place where he can start to sort things out that don't normally want to come to light. It's part of the creativity-growing process outlined in Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way — a book about unsticking yourself if ever there was one, although it's about powerful results rather than instantaneous ones. The "morning pages" technique, by itself, seems like it would go a long way toward bringing a stuck person closer to becoming a sane person, and it takes maybe an hour a day, which is a small investment for a big payoff, if it works for you. So that's Unsticking Method #3: Write your heart out, and don't worry about getting it "right," being appropriate, or being coherent.

And while I was writing this post, my Twitter stream kindly tossed me a 90-second clarity exercise from Gaiam, meant to help us become more comfortable with our uncomfortable feelings by accepting them as real, valid parts of our lives — part of the experience of being human. So that's Unsticking Method #4: Accept yourself and your situation, so you can have room to breathe.

So okay. I wanted to get a lot done this morning. Instead, I just might be building my toolkit for getting a lot done in the next weeks, months, year — years?

If things continue like this, I may even start an Unstick-Along. You know, like a knitalong, but in the end, instead of having a nice, fuzzy, handknit object, you have a nice, fuzzy, warm feeling of empowerment and creativity. ;D

To save the world, create

The latest installment of Holly Lisle's TalysMana, a novel draft that she's writing "live" and sending out to subscribers, made me laugh because it mentions fandom, although not by that name. I've wanted to do that in a piece of non-fanfiction since shortly after I learned what fanfiction is, so ... good on Holly for doing yet another thing I've been wanting to do. ;) Aside from writing and publishing books, TalysMana itself is a bit like an idea I've had knocking around in my head for a while — but, you know, it exists. I just had some vague notion of combining writing and jewelrymaking, but she and her daughter are actually doing it. (And soon I'll be launching my knitting+fiction project, which has a similar bent, but that's for another post. While I'm on a tangent, though, go visit TalysMana and subscribe. It's just getting juicy and you have six chapters to enjoy while waiting for the next.)

The main reason I'm writing this post is that in the latest chapter of TalysMana, the talented Ms. Lisle also touches on an idea I once supported (or at least considered reasonable) — but until tonight I'd forgotten why I ever thought the idea made sense. The idea: The universe is locked in a forever battle between entropy and creation, and generally speaking, as creatures of life, for us, entropy = bad.

I know why I forgot how to believe in that idea; I forgot to believe in it because I started thinking of entropy as a purely scientific concept, or more specifically, a thermodynamic concept. Entropy is involved in the melting of ice, to use Wikipedia's example, and ice melting isn't exactly a villainous act. So I forgot why entropy had ever = bad, and the concept started to seem completely melodramatic.

But tonight, Holly Lisle's novel-in-progress reminded me that what we create is part of reality — quite literally. What you think in your head, what you write in your journal ... Those things may be private, but they still exist, and if you think about all the negativity that people nurture in themselves, in others, even in private ... It does start to seem like there must be an enormous amount of negativity out there. Now, if you believe that every act of imagination is contributing to the current reality, then self-help starts to seem like a bigger deal — "Your focus determines your reality" turns into "Your focus helps determine everyone's reality," and goshdarnit if creativity doesn't start to seem like a power to wield with responsibility.

The idea of collective mood isn't that far-fetched, either — MoodViews tracks Livejournal moods and creates a collective mood report, and I seem to recall a collective mood widget for the Mac OS Dashboard, that took the form of a strangely mesmerizing, color-changing glowing dot...

Anyway. Tonight I re-realized that entropy = bad is really the flip side of creativity = good. Creativity, if you mean it in a certain sense, contributes to collective positivity. It adds something good to reality. It makes the world a brighter place. Even if no one sees what you do, your creativity still exists, and if you believe in a higher power of any kind, or if you believe in the Whole in a sort of Zen way, your creativity matters because it's visible from a distance as a building block in the Grand Scheme of Things. If enough people choose to create, then the universe is a more creative place. If enough people choose to destroy, the universe becomes a more destructive place. Heck, don't stop at the universe — all of Existence is built of these wee molecular structures, and to a large extent, you can choose what your addition to the Whole looks like.

So there's a good reason to go ahead and create, even if someone else has been there before you; even if you don't think anyone will care; even if you know no one will ever see it.

Create because it is good. Create because you are giving life to something positive. Create because you choose to give the gift of something beautiful, or meaningful, or fun, to the whole of reality. Create because you live, and your life needs to be spent in some fashion, and when it comes down to it, would you rather have spent it negatively? Or would you rather be able to look back and say, "I brought something good to this place, in my own way, as best I could"?

That's what it means when people say "Only you, of all the people in creation, can do what you do."

You can create, or you can destroy. We all do a little of each, but when you have a chance to shape your little part of the Whole, which one will you choose to do?

The importance of limitlessness

I came across an article on SparkPeople today that points out something that's been a personal peeve of mine for years — since before it even applied to me, even. I've seen adults doing it since before I officially counted as one, and it bothered me as much then as now: We encourage kids' seemingly limitless potential but neglect to recognize our own. It's as if we believe that as we get closer to dying, we become narrower people. (That's a funny thing to believe simultaneously to "The older I get, the wiser I am than those kids are" alongside "Kids have innate wisdom," but humans are nothing if not contradictory ... Anyway, I digress.)

Dickinson writes in her article that one possible reason behind this self-limiting attitude is our corner-of-the-eye awareness that we have responsibilities and duties — which kids don't have yet, so they're free to dream of anything while we're shackled to reality. Sound familiar? It should, because I hear it all the time, from virtually everyone, mid-life crisis sufferers excepted: You gotta do what you gotta do. If I didn't have a wife and kids, I'd be out there following my dreams. Today the money has to go to bills; maybe tomorrow there will be some for living.

It's the creed of the modern adult, although some people manage to escape it.

And that's what ties this all in to creativity and small business. I started Star and Crossbones, I even named it for pirates and an age-old symbol of dreams-as-in-goals, as a way to remind myself that I am in control of my own destiny, that I have the potential to do anything I choose to do, that I shouldn't let myself be shackled by the weight of responsibility and duty and social or moral expectation. No, I never meant "Screw ethics and morals, I'll do what I want." A pirate can follow his own moral code; but he writes it for himself, and be damned to anyone who doesn't understand it or see it. No one else has to see it for it to be real.

That's what I've been missing for the past two years — or few years; I may even have been missing it from the moment I chose to go to the college my father wanted me to go to, the moment I chose to stay close to home rather than leap into the risky unknown (unknown except that even my father knew the far-away place was perfect for me. I wonder, if I had gotten into Yale, would he have said that, too, was too expensive?). Maybe I was even missing it before then, too; but I remember having it at some point — the feeling that I have potential and it's not just my right but my primary duty to chase that potential down. For the past few years, but especially in the two that I let myself be chained to a soul-eatingly irrational office job, I've been missing that feeling, that I can do things greater than what I'm doing now, and that in those things lies the ultimate pursuit of happiness.

I've even been missing it in the past few months, since I quit the aforementioned ill-fated office job. I left that place with the intention of seeking out and finding all the spirit I'd lost, and life has done its darnedest to throw negativity and obstacles in my way — emotional ones rather than monetary ones so far, but the dreams I'm really chasing in this return-to-self/return-to-creativity business are emotional, not financial or physical. And I've let those obstacles drag me back down into the feeling that I have to deal with my responsibilities first, even if it means once more delaying my happiness and fire-hearted dream-chasing.

What a shame and a waste! writes Dickinson.

Yes. It is a shame and waste.

And I am not, of all things, built to be either shamed or wasteful.

If we were limited to the gifts and talents we developed as children, many of us would never discover the wonderful things in store for us, Dickinson continues. During the next few weeks I challenge you to break that pattern of self-destruction.

I can't, as she suggests, use my children as inspiration; I don't have any. But I want to take her up on her challenge — I need to meet it. I need to break my own self-imposed limits. I need to explore the world again, and feel like my exploration matters for the sheer positivity that exploration embodies. And I need to start as soon as I can — no waiting for the mythical "right moment," no waiting for just a little more inspiration to hit.

So. If I go crazy, if I throw out erratic, creative, artistic, non-businesslike ideas and run around like a chicken with a paintbrush, if I disappear for weeks on end and then re-emerge with a fully-grown, certifiably gargantuan project in my hands, and ignore all my carefully-laid business plans for the sake of being me again and learning to dream again, recognize that for what it is, and maybe take a little of the crazy home to roost with you.

Because even if it's unbusinesslike, my personal creed and the force that drove me to start this business in the first place both demand that I take the time to be a little nuts — or a lot nuts. An elephant-sized mound of nuts. Because when it comes down to it, if in the end I fail — at making a living, at having a successful business, at becoming rich and famous, at being financially solvent and having a big house with a room for every craft — I'd rather fail because I was busy following my heart than fail because I was too miserably busy to listen to it.

Get this ship ready to sail; we're going a-pirating.

Work on the craft room begins and a recycling tangent

It's not something I'm making personally, but Mythic Yarns has very cute recycled-textile meditation stuffage -- zabutons and zafus and such. Good inspiration stuff.

Also, the craft room creation process finally begins! We defeated the Leather Chair of Doom with the help of a borrowed circular saw; we hauled furniture too large to force into our cars with the help of a borrowed van; and we've packed our cars full of boxes and assorted loose odds and ends for the past eight days with the help of my benevolent mother. At last, yesterday we hauled the final bits of furniture with the help of a borrowed truck and an old friend -- and the last piece of relocated craft room furniture is here. The boxes engulfing our house now begin their journey into the Room of Craftiness...

Big thanks to everyone who helped, emotionally, physically, mentally, etc. ;) I still have one more trip to make, to pick up the last non-crafty randomnesses that were hiding in corners and closets and neglected cabinets and drawers, before I'm done moving out, and I'll be glad when all my stuff is out of that place and I don't have to worry about it being accidentally taken by the evile roommate, but the craft-related parts are all here. Cheers.

Oh, and my KnitPicks yarn for the Mystery Stole 3 KAL looks like it will arrive tomorrow, only a day after the first clue went up. Woo. I may start semi on-time. ;D