"How can I know what my real personality is when I feel depressed for months and then suddenly, for no reason, feel very happy?" my friend asked me this morning.
"We can't really know ourselves, ever," I answered.
In fact, I've come to believe that like diamonds, we're always expressing fragments of ourselves, depending on where the light is shining--in other words, the combination of the situation we're in and who we're interacting with, our inner life and the billions of impulses streaming through our brains without our awareness. But within our consciousness, it's impossible for us to behold all of our millions of facets at the same time.
So if it's true that we can never know ourselves, how can we expect to know who we are as artists? This is one of the American Idol judges' most frequent comments to the contestants--the compliment: "You know who you are," or more often the criticism: "You don't know who you are."
What adjectives would you use to describe yourself? I think every adjective that exists would probably describe some facet of my being that expresses itself fully or in part in any given moment--serious, silly, intense, apathetic, afraid, fearless, ecstatic, depressed, happy, sad--even simultaneous opposites. And yet, my friends will say to me, "That is SO YOU!" And I'll say to myself, "Sometimes."
I believe we're all artists and creators, expressing in our unique ways, and like everyone else, I've done my share of creating throughout my life. Whether it's drawing cartoons few people have ever seen, or writing and recording songs, practicing and performing music, or writing a book or this blog, the artist's life makes me feel so happy. When I'm in the act of creating, I'm in love with that magical part of me that expresses itself. It doesn't matter that I don't know who I am.
What got me thinking about all of this was a letter my sister wrote to me back in November 1977. She was in Clown School in Orlando. She included with her letter this poem her teacher had given her that she said was written by rock guitarist Terry Brooks and Strange. Here is what he wrote:
Life of the Artist
by Terry Brooks and Strange
If you have chosen the arts
To be your life's profession
You have started an endless voyage
Into time and space
That has no beginning or end
You are suspended in a void
Of thought and magic
And you will walk to the end of time
And to the edge of insanity
And you will search for yourself
In the mirror of life
To understand your own reflection
Only to find you are translucent
And you cannot concentrate
On your own existence
Because the you of yourself
Is beyond time and dimension
You are a fragment of thought
Or an extension of all existing things
We are all children of the universe
United as one, we are free to play
The symphony of life.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
My 7 Life Principles--What Are Yours?
"I'm nominating you for induction into Canton's Women's Hall of Fame in the category of The Arts," Marilyn announced to me in our phone conversation just before Christmas. I was honored by her resolve, but knew that residence in Canton, Ohio, where she lives, is a requirement for nominees.
Canton is my hometown where I returned for four years to take care of my elderly stepmother and autistic, retarded stepsister. While there, I wrote and recorded a theme song for the Women's Hall of Fame awards banquet and for two years in a row, I provided the dinner music during the banquet and listened to many acceptance speeches. In 2008 I moved back to Florida to be with my mother in the final months of her life.
Just knowing I wouldn't qualify as a nominee wasn't enough to keep me from fantasizing about having such a high honor bestowed on me by my peers, and I wondered what I might say in an acceptance speech. What follows is what I would have said to them and what I would say now to the readers of this blog.
I know you don't need my advice on how to live a successful life, especially since I'm not in the ranks of financially successful or famous people. Among all of the songs I've written and recorded, my song, "Sunday Blessing" was the only one that found its way to prime time TV, in an ABC "World News Now" broadcast. I don't know how they found my song out of the millions of tracks on the Internet. I learned they'd played it when BMI sent me a check for $60 with the details of time and place written on the check.
My cockatiel Pookie and I are in a segment of "Planet's Funniest Animals" in 2002. He's on my shoulder and I'm saying, "Pookie? How does the rooster go?" He lowers his head, then raises up and makes a throaty crowing sound, "er er-er er-errrr," that I taught him. Then I say, "Good boy!" Together, my song and Pookie add up to 2 minutes of TV-time "fame."
Although I doubt that anyone would look at me and my life and consider me to be happy or successful, I share the following principles as a way of giving you an opportunity to reflect on what has brought you to this time and place in your life--what has worked for you. Here are seven principles that have allowed me to be a better creator throughout my life.
1. I woke up on the dark, rainy morning of May 20, 2007, with a heavy, sinking feeling in my body, a feeling of dread and shame, an absolute certainty that what I was about to do that day would be a failure that would make me the target of ridicule and shame for the rest of my life. I couldn't know for sure exactly why, or what might happen, but I knew this would be a very bad day!
Still, I put on my slinky silky silvery showgirl dress from my years in my Las Vegas showband in the 1980's. With bobby pins and barretts, I anchored my long-haired wig to my pony tail. I glued false eyelashes to the rim of my eyelids. I carried my amp, speakers and tape recorder to my car, groaned as I heaved them into the trunk, closed the trunk lid, and headed for the Civic Center, to the Spring Senior Fair.
A few months before, the staff at The Pines, the nursing home where my stepmother was being lovingly cared for, asked me for my ideas for their booth for the fair. They'd won the prize money for the most outstanding booth the year before, and the only idea they'd thought of for this year's fair with its New Orleans theme was to have me sing. I suggested they set up a storefront for a stripper's club in the French Quarter.
So there I was on the morning of the fair, slinky and a bit bulgy, singing stripper songs to music tracks I'd created, in a gaudy booth surrounded by ladies of the night serving lemonade to passers-by. As smiling people gathered to listen to me, that bad feeling changed to a euphoric "Wow! This is FUN!" "How old are you?" younger women asked me throughout the day. When I told them I was 63, they all said, "I hope I'm still sexy like you when I'm your age!" At the end of the day, The Pines won the top prize for the second year in a row, and one morning a few weeks later when I drove up to the nursing home to visit my stepmother, a bunch of the staff women were leaning out an office window calling me in to surprise me with a generous check.
This true story illustrates my first principle: I shake hands with my demons and step over them. They're here to stay, but I don't have to base my actions on them. I do my life anyway, no matter what.
2. I say "Yes" more often than "No." I'm always surprised to find unexpected opportunities in the most unexpected places.
3. I see myself as a life-long learner, and I've been willing to spend the time and focus my attention to develop skills that will help me to be a better creator. I regret that I haven't had time to learn more, but what I don't know has forced me to seek others who do know, which allows for the all-important collaboration with others (see #5).
4. I look for the truth in everything, realizing that my own thinking often deceives me! When I'm sure I don't know the truth, I resist making up a story about it. I'm comfortable living in the mystery of the unknown. Living in the mystery has brought me a new peace of mind. It takes energy to have to explain every unknowable thing.
5. I cannot accomplish my best work alone. It takes others. We're walking the paths of those who taught us, lifted us, supported us, enhanced our visions. Creating requires focus, intent, vision, teamwork, and time alone. Others have to bring our work into the light. And once in the light, those who experience our work become the critics and determine what happens to what we've created.
6. I love my creations into existence. Much like a parent adores a child, I create with an attitude of unconditional love, not only for the creative process, but for the end result of my efforts, even as I strive to perfect that result. I will never give a perfect performance or write the perfect story, but a decision to love my work opens a window of happiness in my heart. My inner critic has a specific role in the creative process, not to make me miserable and filled with disgust and disappointment for my work, but instead to give me the humility to always strive to do better and to always ask for help. Depression will cause my inner critic to become too prominent and "believable." At those times, I continue to work on my projects to make them better and release them when I believe they're ready.
7. We're all the creators of our lives. For me, writing songs and stories, performing music, and drawing cartoons is like breathing. Knowing I can still do these things makes me want to go on living. My final principle is that I must continue to create. Every single day.
What speech would you give if you were given an achievement award for your life's work? What are the principles that guide your life, that make you a better creator?
Canton is my hometown where I returned for four years to take care of my elderly stepmother and autistic, retarded stepsister. While there, I wrote and recorded a theme song for the Women's Hall of Fame awards banquet and for two years in a row, I provided the dinner music during the banquet and listened to many acceptance speeches. In 2008 I moved back to Florida to be with my mother in the final months of her life.
Just knowing I wouldn't qualify as a nominee wasn't enough to keep me from fantasizing about having such a high honor bestowed on me by my peers, and I wondered what I might say in an acceptance speech. What follows is what I would have said to them and what I would say now to the readers of this blog.
I know you don't need my advice on how to live a successful life, especially since I'm not in the ranks of financially successful or famous people. Among all of the songs I've written and recorded, my song, "Sunday Blessing" was the only one that found its way to prime time TV, in an ABC "World News Now" broadcast. I don't know how they found my song out of the millions of tracks on the Internet. I learned they'd played it when BMI sent me a check for $60 with the details of time and place written on the check.
My cockatiel Pookie and I are in a segment of "Planet's Funniest Animals" in 2002. He's on my shoulder and I'm saying, "Pookie? How does the rooster go?" He lowers his head, then raises up and makes a throaty crowing sound, "er er-er er-errrr," that I taught him. Then I say, "Good boy!" Together, my song and Pookie add up to 2 minutes of TV-time "fame."
Although I doubt that anyone would look at me and my life and consider me to be happy or successful, I share the following principles as a way of giving you an opportunity to reflect on what has brought you to this time and place in your life--what has worked for you. Here are seven principles that have allowed me to be a better creator throughout my life.
1. I woke up on the dark, rainy morning of May 20, 2007, with a heavy, sinking feeling in my body, a feeling of dread and shame, an absolute certainty that what I was about to do that day would be a failure that would make me the target of ridicule and shame for the rest of my life. I couldn't know for sure exactly why, or what might happen, but I knew this would be a very bad day!
Still, I put on my slinky silky silvery showgirl dress from my years in my Las Vegas showband in the 1980's. With bobby pins and barretts, I anchored my long-haired wig to my pony tail. I glued false eyelashes to the rim of my eyelids. I carried my amp, speakers and tape recorder to my car, groaned as I heaved them into the trunk, closed the trunk lid, and headed for the Civic Center, to the Spring Senior Fair.
A few months before, the staff at The Pines, the nursing home where my stepmother was being lovingly cared for, asked me for my ideas for their booth for the fair. They'd won the prize money for the most outstanding booth the year before, and the only idea they'd thought of for this year's fair with its New Orleans theme was to have me sing. I suggested they set up a storefront for a stripper's club in the French Quarter.
So there I was on the morning of the fair, slinky and a bit bulgy, singing stripper songs to music tracks I'd created, in a gaudy booth surrounded by ladies of the night serving lemonade to passers-by. As smiling people gathered to listen to me, that bad feeling changed to a euphoric "Wow! This is FUN!" "How old are you?" younger women asked me throughout the day. When I told them I was 63, they all said, "I hope I'm still sexy like you when I'm your age!" At the end of the day, The Pines won the top prize for the second year in a row, and one morning a few weeks later when I drove up to the nursing home to visit my stepmother, a bunch of the staff women were leaning out an office window calling me in to surprise me with a generous check.
This true story illustrates my first principle: I shake hands with my demons and step over them. They're here to stay, but I don't have to base my actions on them. I do my life anyway, no matter what.
2. I say "Yes" more often than "No." I'm always surprised to find unexpected opportunities in the most unexpected places.
3. I see myself as a life-long learner, and I've been willing to spend the time and focus my attention to develop skills that will help me to be a better creator. I regret that I haven't had time to learn more, but what I don't know has forced me to seek others who do know, which allows for the all-important collaboration with others (see #5).
4. I look for the truth in everything, realizing that my own thinking often deceives me! When I'm sure I don't know the truth, I resist making up a story about it. I'm comfortable living in the mystery of the unknown. Living in the mystery has brought me a new peace of mind. It takes energy to have to explain every unknowable thing.
5. I cannot accomplish my best work alone. It takes others. We're walking the paths of those who taught us, lifted us, supported us, enhanced our visions. Creating requires focus, intent, vision, teamwork, and time alone. Others have to bring our work into the light. And once in the light, those who experience our work become the critics and determine what happens to what we've created.
6. I love my creations into existence. Much like a parent adores a child, I create with an attitude of unconditional love, not only for the creative process, but for the end result of my efforts, even as I strive to perfect that result. I will never give a perfect performance or write the perfect story, but a decision to love my work opens a window of happiness in my heart. My inner critic has a specific role in the creative process, not to make me miserable and filled with disgust and disappointment for my work, but instead to give me the humility to always strive to do better and to always ask for help. Depression will cause my inner critic to become too prominent and "believable." At those times, I continue to work on my projects to make them better and release them when I believe they're ready.
7. We're all the creators of our lives. For me, writing songs and stories, performing music, and drawing cartoons is like breathing. Knowing I can still do these things makes me want to go on living. My final principle is that I must continue to create. Every single day.
What speech would you give if you were given an achievement award for your life's work? What are the principles that guide your life, that make you a better creator?
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Yes! I Can!
If you try to use the hammer in your toolbox to paint the kitchen, you probably won't like the end result, and no one else will, either! Like a hammer, positive thinking, that voice in our head that says, "Yes! I can!", is a tool in life's toolbox, but it's only one of many tools for creating a written work deserving of praise and recognition by those who will read it.
Many people believe that the concept of positive thinking is an umbrella attitude, necessary for the success of every undertaking. Granted, everything we do, whether it's buying a lottery ticket, running for public office, gambling with mortgage holders' debt or writing a novel, begins with something in our brain that says, "Yes! I can!" But that statement is always about what "I" can do, not a prediction of the result of our efforts to write a great story. The results have to do with other factors (our marketing/negotiating actions and outside circumstances) that come together to create the perfect sunburst. And even "Yes! I can!" can be the construct of an unrealistic imagination (known as "delusions of grandeur" in bipolar language), not based on truthful perception.
There's no clear-cut, predictable path to get the masses to recognize and reward our talent and efforts. If there were, it would be a well-worn freeway ending in financial success and fame for everyone. Many successful artists would tell you they are not positive thinkers. They walk hand in hand with their demons, always certain that the worst is going to happen, unable to explain or understand how they ended up in the realm of the renown. One season's winner of "American Idol" believed every minute of every day throughout those three months that he would be eliminated in each next round.
Positive thinking by itself is not a magic pill that will ultimately make everything wonderful happen. If positive thinking were a pill, a dose too high, or taken at the wrong time, or combined with the wrong food could be fatal. If not used wisely, positive thinking, and its buddy, the touted belief known as the "Law of Attraction" can actually hinder both the creative process and the result.
As much as possible, it's wise to keep a tuned ear on the constant patter of those little voices in our heads, always listening and ready to challenge our positive thinking beliefs that would hinder our creative process. Here are some to watch out for and the sorry truths that will alert you to take a different course as you write to your highest potential.
1. PT Belief: You're absolutely certain without a doubt that your story is so good that a Hollywood producer is going to make it into a movie.
Sorry Truth: I believe every person has one or more great stories to tell. It's the way the story is told that makes it come alive for the reader. A good story is not enough. Continue to hone the craft of story writing by reading everything you can and practicing the techniques.
2. PT Belief: You're certain that you're a "good writer," even if you don't know the basics of English grammar, punctuation, and sentence mechanics.
Sorry Truth: If you didn't listen in junior high English class, it's impossible to know what you don't know now. Find the many excellent interactive online sites that teach basic writing skills and get to work!
3. PT Belief: Because you're an educated writer and know the craft of storytelling, you believe that you can write a great story and do the line-by-line final proofreading without the help of professional editors. After all, you're a better writer than anyone you could find to help you.
Sorry Truth: Even if you're a college English teacher and a professional editor yourself, you cannot critique your own work. You will need to hire a professional editor who will give you feedback and content guidance, and then a professional proofreader who will be able to root out all of the errors in the final line-by-line edit before you send your story off.
4. PT Belief: Your story is so great that everyone who reads it will love it, so you send your drafts to your already insanely busy dearly-beloved friends and family members who you're certain will give you support and honest feedback.
Sorry Truth: Instead of honing a story that nurtures the readers, by sending your drafts to your friends, you're soliciting favor; you're asking them to coddle you, rescue you, and make you feel okay. Chances are, your friends won't find the time to read your drafts and will be ashamed to admit it, but if they do read them, they might form opinions as biased insiders who already know and love you. They may focus on what interests them and be unable to perceive a balanced perspective on your piece. If they don't like your story, but love you, they won't tell you their honest opinion; if they're secretly mad at you for something else, they might tell you they don't like your story, maybe for reasons that don't even make sense to you. If they try to give you honest feedback, they likely won't be able to articulate exactly what doesn't work for them, or how to correct it. Unfortunately, your writing needs the objective scrutiny of an unattached critic who doesn't already adore you, but who will advocate for the reader by identifying the problems in your piece and giving you suggestions for fixing them.
5. PT Belief: Your writing is channeled through your brain from a higher intelligence, which could be your Higher Self or an outside Higher Power, and therefore, what you write shouldn't be changed or tampered with and doesn't have to meet the requirements of logic and reasoning.
Sorry Truth: Writers know that words and sentences often fall onto the page, and characters form themselves so mysteriously and effortlessly, it seems as if someone or something else is doing the writing. Neuroscientists know that our brains are constantly working in the background, beyond our conscious reach. Our consciousness, like a newspaper article, writes down what our brain has already debated and voted on. I'm not refuting the possibility of a higher intelligence dictating our ideas to us, but I'm suggesting that some readers might not find your story credible if it's lacking character motivation, reason, and, yes, common plain-folk horse sense. A famous writer--can't remember which one, maybe Erica Jong--wrote that words have to be wrestled to the page. Even after the words go onto the page, the writer must always be matching them to the vision--sights, sounds, tactile sensations, smells--he or she sees playing out in imagination and memory.
My piano teacher in Delaware was a concert pianist who was once quoted in a newspaper article saying, "The simplest piano piece is difficult if it's done well." Good writing requires hours of hard work, of concentrated thought and focus. It requires knowledge of English basics and story crafting. It requires soliciting the skills of other people. It begins with YES! I CAN! But it doesn't end there.
Many people believe that the concept of positive thinking is an umbrella attitude, necessary for the success of every undertaking. Granted, everything we do, whether it's buying a lottery ticket, running for public office, gambling with mortgage holders' debt or writing a novel, begins with something in our brain that says, "Yes! I can!" But that statement is always about what "I" can do, not a prediction of the result of our efforts to write a great story. The results have to do with other factors (our marketing/negotiating actions and outside circumstances) that come together to create the perfect sunburst. And even "Yes! I can!" can be the construct of an unrealistic imagination (known as "delusions of grandeur" in bipolar language), not based on truthful perception.
There's no clear-cut, predictable path to get the masses to recognize and reward our talent and efforts. If there were, it would be a well-worn freeway ending in financial success and fame for everyone. Many successful artists would tell you they are not positive thinkers. They walk hand in hand with their demons, always certain that the worst is going to happen, unable to explain or understand how they ended up in the realm of the renown. One season's winner of "American Idol" believed every minute of every day throughout those three months that he would be eliminated in each next round.
Positive thinking by itself is not a magic pill that will ultimately make everything wonderful happen. If positive thinking were a pill, a dose too high, or taken at the wrong time, or combined with the wrong food could be fatal. If not used wisely, positive thinking, and its buddy, the touted belief known as the "Law of Attraction" can actually hinder both the creative process and the result.
As much as possible, it's wise to keep a tuned ear on the constant patter of those little voices in our heads, always listening and ready to challenge our positive thinking beliefs that would hinder our creative process. Here are some to watch out for and the sorry truths that will alert you to take a different course as you write to your highest potential.
1. PT Belief: You're absolutely certain without a doubt that your story is so good that a Hollywood producer is going to make it into a movie.
Sorry Truth: I believe every person has one or more great stories to tell. It's the way the story is told that makes it come alive for the reader. A good story is not enough. Continue to hone the craft of story writing by reading everything you can and practicing the techniques.
2. PT Belief: You're certain that you're a "good writer," even if you don't know the basics of English grammar, punctuation, and sentence mechanics.
Sorry Truth: If you didn't listen in junior high English class, it's impossible to know what you don't know now. Find the many excellent interactive online sites that teach basic writing skills and get to work!
3. PT Belief: Because you're an educated writer and know the craft of storytelling, you believe that you can write a great story and do the line-by-line final proofreading without the help of professional editors. After all, you're a better writer than anyone you could find to help you.
Sorry Truth: Even if you're a college English teacher and a professional editor yourself, you cannot critique your own work. You will need to hire a professional editor who will give you feedback and content guidance, and then a professional proofreader who will be able to root out all of the errors in the final line-by-line edit before you send your story off.
4. PT Belief: Your story is so great that everyone who reads it will love it, so you send your drafts to your already insanely busy dearly-beloved friends and family members who you're certain will give you support and honest feedback.
Sorry Truth: Instead of honing a story that nurtures the readers, by sending your drafts to your friends, you're soliciting favor; you're asking them to coddle you, rescue you, and make you feel okay. Chances are, your friends won't find the time to read your drafts and will be ashamed to admit it, but if they do read them, they might form opinions as biased insiders who already know and love you. They may focus on what interests them and be unable to perceive a balanced perspective on your piece. If they don't like your story, but love you, they won't tell you their honest opinion; if they're secretly mad at you for something else, they might tell you they don't like your story, maybe for reasons that don't even make sense to you. If they try to give you honest feedback, they likely won't be able to articulate exactly what doesn't work for them, or how to correct it. Unfortunately, your writing needs the objective scrutiny of an unattached critic who doesn't already adore you, but who will advocate for the reader by identifying the problems in your piece and giving you suggestions for fixing them.
5. PT Belief: Your writing is channeled through your brain from a higher intelligence, which could be your Higher Self or an outside Higher Power, and therefore, what you write shouldn't be changed or tampered with and doesn't have to meet the requirements of logic and reasoning.
Sorry Truth: Writers know that words and sentences often fall onto the page, and characters form themselves so mysteriously and effortlessly, it seems as if someone or something else is doing the writing. Neuroscientists know that our brains are constantly working in the background, beyond our conscious reach. Our consciousness, like a newspaper article, writes down what our brain has already debated and voted on. I'm not refuting the possibility of a higher intelligence dictating our ideas to us, but I'm suggesting that some readers might not find your story credible if it's lacking character motivation, reason, and, yes, common plain-folk horse sense. A famous writer--can't remember which one, maybe Erica Jong--wrote that words have to be wrestled to the page. Even after the words go onto the page, the writer must always be matching them to the vision--sights, sounds, tactile sensations, smells--he or she sees playing out in imagination and memory.
My piano teacher in Delaware was a concert pianist who was once quoted in a newspaper article saying, "The simplest piano piece is difficult if it's done well." Good writing requires hours of hard work, of concentrated thought and focus. It requires knowledge of English basics and story crafting. It requires soliciting the skills of other people. It begins with YES! I CAN! But it doesn't end there.
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