But, what does that actually mean? Does it mean I don’t lie, speak bafflegab, do sly underhanded things to get what I want, manipulate polls, not think about the people I live with, not care for them, not listen, take advantage of the poor (especially if I have a good wage), complicate my issues so as to confuse people…. ? Oh.. I could go on and on and on and…. you get the picture.
My Dad once said, “Don’t take no for an answer.” My Mom was equally bold in her advice. It was good.
When I decided to audition for “Le Conservatoire d’Art Dramatique”, one of my French teachers rolled her eyes, and exclaimed (en Francais) that she knew French people who had tried to get in and didn’t make it. Certainly an “anglophone” had NO chance. I decided to not go near her during my preparation time, avoiding her black cloud energy. It was tough enough without her input!
So… you can imagine the delight I had when I announced to her that this “anglophone” had made it through two auditions and 2 days of observation, and was accepted. She was as they say in Quebec “bouche bée”… mouth agape!
The following post by Geoff Talbot reminds us of famous people and their (wrong) naysayers. A reminder to take opinions with a grain of salt.
Do you have a similar situation to share?
…Famous Wrong Predictions…
In the world of art & entrepreneurship be encouraged… when it comes to innovation no one really knows anything…
“Drill for oil? You mean drill into the ground to try and find oil? You’re crazy.” Opponents to Edwin L Drakes plan to drill for oil in 1849.
“We don’t like their sound, and guitar music is on the way out.” Decca Recording Co. rejecting the Beatles in 1962.
I come from an artistic family. I grew up surrounded by pottery and paintings by my father, and fibre artistic works (weaving, knitting, needlework, quilting & more) by my mother. They were always making things. Our cupboards were filled with pottery. Our floors covered with woven and hooked rugs. I wore handmade sweaters, hats, and scarves, and funky leg warmers (still have them).
Eventually we moved from Banff to Prince Edward Island where my family purchased land, built a house, and made our own shop, which resulted in me learning the world of sales early in life.
I also puttered, dabbled in my parent’s art. I would draw, make pinch pots, slab boxes, pendants, and I would help put on Mom’s warps and sand the bottoms of Dad’s pottery so it was smooth to touch. I tried knitting, but was abysmal. When it came to craft fair time, I would help load & unload the van, and watch my mother skillfully display their work. These observations served me well later in years!
My Dad taught as well. When he taught his drawing and painting classes I would sometimes sit in and partake. I would overhear some of his instruction and try to apply it. I liked it. I would get frustrated, but mostly I liked it. But I preferred drawing so I would do that more frequently by myself.
But… it’s funny.
My parents were always the artists in my mind. I wasn’t an artist. I didn’t feel I could own that title. They were very good at what they did, and I admired their singled passions.
Finally, years later, I thought I had discovered a similar passion in acting. And, yes… it most certainly is a passion but I still felt I also wanted something where I didn’t need an audience or a team. Writing, yes… a definite possibility, as I used to love doing that when I was a kid, too… And, when I show up to my blog, I am happy.
You know what?
Just last week, I dove back into the world of paint, encouraged by my painter friend, Melanie Kobayashi, and experienced a ripple of surprising excitement. Mel guided me into her studio, offered me paints, a massive piece of heavy paper, and ordered me to “load up your brush and don’t be scared!” I did what I was told, and soon was having a cathartic dance with the paint and canvas.
My inner critic showed up several times just to keep me humble and sweating. “Anyone can do that” “You’re cheating” “That’s doesn’t take talent” “Who do you think you are painting?” “Wow.. bad taste in colour”…I chased away it away many times.
I replaced my inner expulsions to “I’m just having fun”…. And some obscene chasing off remarks, similar to “buzz off”.
I succeeded in keeping going, and not succumbing to a perfectionist attitude. It was hard work in some ways, and on the other side it was deeply satisfying. And, because of the size of the work… oh, boy.. did my thighs ache the following days. But in the best way possible!
Would you like to see it? I hesitated to post my first attempt, my first abstract purge, but, what the heck!
It’s a wild one… I decided to call it “Mel Made Me Do It”….
Funny how one seemingly unrelated creative activity can open the doors to others. Some old plans for something have re-emerged since painting but… that’s for another time.
Where do you allow yourself to play, create, and open the channels?
It’s 2010 and somehow January slipped by in a speed, and in a series of events that left me a negligent blogger. I feel like I’ve left a love one unattended for just way too long.
So.. it’s February 1st and I’m not waiting any longer for the right moment, the inspiration, and the long comfortable stretches of time that will, of course, make me write a brilliant blog post. Ha! What am I thinking???
According to so many, I just need to show up, and take action.
It’s now December 2010 and I am resurrecting a post I did last year regarding some scarves and the PEI Humane Society. A couple new photos and an ongoing plan in time for this seasonal gift giving month! Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and all the best…
This post may seem a bit off topic with my usual posts, but not really. It’s still all about creativity and thinking outside the box.
My mother, Joan Kempton-Jeeves, is a Fibre Artist, originally from England, and has worked cleverly and artistically in weaving, wool dying, hooking, quilting, crocheting, and knitting for many years. Her work is unconventional as she enjoys “painting with her wool”. I own many beautiful sweaters, and scarves (I’m wearing one as I write), and living in Vancouver where it’s warmer than the rest of Canada I don’t always have the chance to sport my wearable art. So when the temperature dips to a wool wearing one, I’m content!
In the past couple of years my mother has been knitting steadily with the caveat that she is “cleaning up” her wool, and producing a series of beautiful scarves. Her collection has grown steadily and makes for an impressive group.
My mother is also an animal lover, especially cats, and my family has had a few dear feline friends, all of who are now gone, and one token German Shepherd, who is also hanging out with the cats in animal heaven.
So…where are we going, you may ask?
Well…sometimes my Mom likes to make donations to her local humane society, and visit the animals once in awhile, and she had a fabulous idea.
Remember those scarves I was mentioning? Well, my Mom would like to donate her scarves indirectly to the Prince Edward Island Humane Society (Canada). Indirectly means that she will give a scarf to anyone who donates at least 25.00 to the Society. These donations will go under the “Joan Kempton Scarf Fund”.
That’s a pretty good deal! And, I thought it was such a good idea that I said I would help, hence, this blog post. By writing about this and encouraging those who would like to give a great present of a well-needed donation AND receive a beautiful hand knit scarf. It’s a win-win-win situation for all.
What do you think?
If you are interested:
Write to me at email@example.com. And we’ll work out the best way to accept your donation and for you to receive your scarf, and receipt.
If you have any questions about this unique fundraiser, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I am more than happy to respond or help out, and choose a scarf!
(p.s. shipping charges are extra… but, we’ll chat)
“A man came to the Village Headman and pleaded for help. ‘I can’t stand it any longer. My life is sheer hell. There’s me, my wife, my children, and my in-laws all living together in a single room. We’re arguing, and complaining, and constantly at each other’s throats. It’s destroying us all.’
‘I can help if you promise to do as I say,’ said the Headman.
‘Anything. Whatever you say, I’ll do it. It can’t be worse than what I’m living with now.’
‘Very good. What livestock do you have?’
‘Two goats, a pig, a donkey, five chickens, and a turkey.’
‘Bring them all into your single room and come back to see me in a week.’
What could the man do? He had promised to do as the Headman asked. He came back a week later in a terrible state. ‘The stink! The mess! The noise. I’d be better off dead. It’s like living in a mad-house.’
‘Good!’ said the Headman. ‘Go home and throw out all the animals. Then come see me tomorrow.’
The next day the man returned with a wide smile on his face and his eyes sparkling with happiness. ‘Thank you. Thank you. It’s paradise. So clean, so quiet, and so much space to live life for me and my loved ones.’”
Boy do I relate to this story!! Yesterday, I told my partner that we needed to get some animals (small apartment!).
I was fortunate to meet Nick Owen at the Applied Improvisation Network Conference in Portland, Oregon, in November, where he delivered a compelling keynote speech on Leadership, and touching the heart. Lucky me got to have a brief chat with him the evening prior, and I knew we would be in for a treat. When I asked Nick Owen about his books and he strongly suggested “The Salmon of Knowledge” for me.
Thank you Nick!
If you are on a personal journey of discovery, of life paths, of “just what are we doing here”, of learning to let go, honesty, clearing, acceptance, presence, of illusion, of creativity, of self, this book is perfect. I certainly feel that way as I observe and participate in life’s challenges. Somehow, reading a story, a metaphor that applies to situations in my life helps me to adjust my perspective in a positive way. Or, it just helps me to see that there is another perspective!
Story telling is our most effective way of sharing our experiences. I hope you get a chance to have the thoughtful pleasure I am still having as I read, and re-read this unique collection.
For a little more about Nick Owen’s keynote speech, read from “GameChangers“, Applied Improvisation Conference Speaker, Mike Bonifer.
Remember those forts you use to build, as kids, in your living rooms, or bedrooms, or outside, using chairs, blankets, and anything that could help to create a cool cave? Worlds far from the one we were in were concocted with no agenda.
After a short personal conversation with Craig, he invited me to place myself under the grand piano where he would improvise for approximately 40 minutes.
Immediately I was reminded of those childhood living room forts and feeling extra safe and snug. Under the piano, regally awaiting, were shiny gold cushions matching the interior of the piano, a soft bedding of puffy brass blankets and a red velvet one to pull over you for more cozy warmth.
As I tentatively crawled under, I wondered what the protocol really was when you curl up under someone’s piano. I felt awkward but rapidly enjoyed the mysteriously secure feeling.
I closed my eyes and heard the first note, strong but not too loud, and felt the vibration. My body liked the sensation. For the first few minutes, I felt my brain drifting to the banalities of life chores but thankfully the chords would draw me back to the present.
As I permitted myself to relax, my creative juices started to flow.
The sounds transformed as Craig improvised with an awareness of my energy under his piano, producing a symphony of soft notes, thunderous notes, quiet thoughtful notes, sounds of hope, sounds of sadness and melancholy, and soothing sounds.
Images of my past and present life appeared and disappeared.
Befitting, I thought, another childhood memory rose up with Craig’s final notes. I was reminded of me dancing with abandon at age 5 or 6 in the living room of a family friend. Our friend would put all kinds of exotic music on his record player and I would sneak into the living room, my theatre, and dance while the adults visited in the kitchen.
After the session, Craig and I, in my blissfully dopey state, discussed our individual journeys. We acknowledged a musical sadness that had emerged, but also agreed that it was beautiful and not to be ignored. In a society that constantly promotes being positive we tend to hide the sombre side that also has a place in our lives. After all, isn’t good theatre made from comedy and tragedy? The lighter notes that occurred as well balanced the experience nicely.
And, I felt inspired to write!
Under The Piano, to me, is another tool to tap into our creativity and I look forward to experiencing it again. Anything that slows us adults down long enough to open up our “kid” in us, and our imagination, is magnificent.