It's a Lifestle

Okay, I've absolutely fallen off the “at-least-one-post-a-month” horse. But, then, if you know me – or if you follow me at all, you will have figured out (probably long before I did), that “routine” is not really my thing.

I was chatting (writing) a friend recently – an inspiring friend (it inspired this post) about that. My friend has recently become semi-retired. He calls it retired, but I know him, and he is a creative soul, so I'm calling him semi-retired. He retired from his job, but he will continue to do bits of things he loves to do, and that includes lending a hand here and there at the work he retired from (just doing it when it suits him, and not as the boss anymore.) He was talking about finding his routine. It made me think – it reminded me of that post I put up about my “new routine” of taking the mornings for myself. I seem to have been under the impression that if only I could find the “right” routine, I could stick to it. I could be more like everyone else, more normal, a better fit. I am finally beginning to understand that it isn't me. It never will be. Don't get me wrong, I don't think there is a “normal”, nor do I think there should be. We are all different, we all do things in the way that best suits us. The method of doing anything will change as we change, as the world changes. Some of us have habits or methods that don't serve us well, some are even destructive, and certainly, when and if we become ready to change those ways we will (hopefully) find a way to do that. What I believe about others and the world at large rarely applies to what I believe about myself in the dark corners of my secret heart and head. Like so many others, I hold myself to a different standard. Perhaps the best and stupidest (so maybe funniest?) example of this can be summed up by my highschool self. Leggings had become a fashion. (Like I said, stupidest...) They looked comfortable, most people looked good in them. I had a couple of pairs that I'd wear around the house on occasion, but never outside. I was talking to one of my best friends of the time (though we've lost touch she is still very important to me, and this is part of the reason for that – even then she was smart and wise and caring...) and we were talking about what we would wear when we went out. She suggested an outfit for me that included leggings. I responded with something along the lines of, “I can't wear that.” She asked why on earth not...and I said something about them being great – for other people, but I couldn't wear them. She tilted her head, told me that was ridiculous, I could wear whatever I wanted. She gave me permission to be someone I secretly wanted to be. As small and ridiculous as that is, it was huge for me. It smashed down a wall, opened a hundred doors, told me the voice in my head was wrong. Someone I loved and trusted and admired and wished I could be more like told me I could be who I wanted to be. (Thanks forever Nikki.) I've tried to carry that lesson with me, but it is a hard lesson. A lot of those hundreds of doors didn't stay open as long as I'd have liked, but I got to see the vistas they held. The wall has come back into existence, but it isn't very sturdy or very high, and it has places I can get beyond it every few yards. Having this exchange with Charlie reminded me of that. It swept a dark corner clean and reminded me that for all those times that that voice tells me I should be more normal and fit in, that I should be more like I imagine the rest of the world is (and really, it is just how I imagine them to be, not how they really are necessarily), I get to be the person that I am. It is more than just okay for me to be that person, it is good for me to be that person. I realized in that exchange that the lifestyle I live is better described by the term Curated Chaos. I try to influence the direction, but I rarely know what is coming. I set routines that last for short periods to remind me that things are important, or to stabilize the turbulence to a level where I can stand steady and function, but they are just temporary measures. I don't do well in routine.

I suspect that it is part of what attracted me to theatre in the first place, and to blacksmithing and all the other pursuits I have. It is part of why I'll never be full time at any of them, as much as I want to dedicate myself and improve my skills. I do dedicate myself, in bursts, but it will never become routine for me. I always tried to explain it to my students (regarding theatre.) It isn't a job, it's a lifestyle. It is uncertain, it is always changing, you can't predict anything. The hours are long, and don't work with the rest of the world's 9-5 clock because that's who you are playing to, so you are on to their off. Pay is never certain, and rarely the same week to week, if you get any at all on a given week. Contracts get extended or end early. Cast changes and crew changes happen. Being an independent artisan is no different. There is time or money, but rarely both at once. It is a good idea if you need a guaranteed income to supplement with some little job that is flexible and doesn't kill your soul or creativity. You often have to take work on that is less interesting because you have to pay a bill. You might be doing shows or working at the times your friends and family are celebrating birthdays or holidays. You have to wear a lot of hats to keep your business afloat, and the time you spend making is rarely the largest contribution to your business. You can't predict what's coming, but you can help choose the direction it might come from, or at least the direction it moves you. Curated Chaos. It's a lifestyle, it's my lifestyle. It is the life I've chosen. It has good parts and bad, and I'm going to try to stop making myself be “normal” and celebrate what I've got, because what I've got is good. It's uncertain, it's unpredictable but it's also wonderful and creative and full of surprises.

I'll try to at least stay in the stable with the horse that has me writing more often. If I get called away, I will also try not to berate myself for being me.

New Tricks

I went down to the studio today to start work on a pewter project. As usual, I had to clear some detritus from previous projects, days of tidying where I'd tossed stuff onto the tabletop (“just for the moment”). I got the soapstone sanded, but by that time, looking at the bench top was making me a bit squirrelly. I needed to get the bench back....now. Before I did anything else. It didn't take long, and I got to throw out a few bits of junk and make better spaces for things along the way. While I was at it, though, I was thinking about why it is that I have a tendency to work in places other than my studio more often than not. I spent years, decades even, longing for studio space – space where I could just work. Dedicated space with the things I needed to hand, and room to do things without constantly having to clear things first, or reorganize, or set up from scratch or... Here I am, living what is pretty close to my dream, with more than one dedicated studio space, and still, when I think about making chain or about a third of the things I might be likely to do on a regular basis, my first thought is taking what I need upstairs to the table to work. Granted, in the winter, this puts me in close proximity to the stove, which makes for some cozy working. But it means packing things up before, and after – moving stuff from space to space, running down to the studio when I realize I've forgotten something, clearing it all away to allow for our use of the table for other things. It just doesn't make sense. Why on earth is that my first instinct? I've been here a while now, and the studio gets a better flow to it every six months to a year as I try new iterations and figure out my workflow and my real use of the space. So, what is it? I figured out that it boils down to a few things. The first is simply habit. For all the years I've been making I never had a dedicated space. My habit takes me to my familiar table to work, the places I've always worked. I always wanted a space, but I never had one, and now I frankly don't know what to do with it half the time. I suspect that is a part of my unconscious reason for keeping it in a semi-unworkable state.

Another part of it is that I am used to working in a barely controlled chaos state. Maybe a part of me thinks that such a state contributes to my creativity. In forcing myself to think outside the box to get something done I am firing up those creative juices. In clearing a space or setting up my tools I am beginning to get my head into the project. What if I can't create without the chaos? Ridiculous, of course. I will need to prep tools and spaces to a certain degree regardless of whether my space is purpose made and ready. All I'm doing is wasting some of the creative juices on the extraneous tasks. I do suspect that my brain has been playing me a bit though, based on the above idea. I am beginning to think that I have to learn how to work without the chaos. I have to stop being afraid that if I get used to the luxury of this it will disappear and I won't be able to work without it anymore, because I'll have lost the skills and know-how. Nearly every time I tried to create dedicated spaces before they got compromised away, so that is what I'm expecting, somehow. Clearly, having realized all of this, it is time for me to learn some new tricks. Learn to trust in what I have, to glory in it and to use it well while I have it. There will always be an outside chance that it will disappear on me. Things can happen, no matter how unlikely. In the meantime though, I should be making the most of what I've got...I certainly know how lucky I am to have it! Even if it did disappear, I know I could find a way to work – I always have. If I waste what I have now, that is what would make me regretful. So that is one of the many things that I am going to be focusing on in the next while, creating new habits, getting comfortable in the spaces I am so blessed to have at my disposal and learning how to get out of my own way and just make the things that fill my brain and my dreams, all those things my hands ache to do. I'm getting to be an old dog, but I think I've got a little room yet for some new tricks.

Looking Back

I woke up this morning, and was thinking back to some of the things I've written in the last year. I had to shake my head at some of them. Perspective. I'm thinking, in particular of the post I wrote in which I declared the mornings to be mine. I wanted 3 hours, at least, if I remember correctly. That was back in April, and it was right for the time...I managed to keep up that routine for about 5 months, and it was good to establish it. At the time, maybe I even knew it wasn't permanent – but remembering my headspace when I wrote that makes me think of that line in Joni Mitchell's Come In From The Cold. “...I made some value judgements/In a self-important voice” I'm not sure who I was declaring this righteous new routine to, other than myself. Or why I felt the need to be so adamant about it. I was trying to justify it to myself. Sometimes it is hardest to convince ourselves that it is okay to need what we need – particularly in the moment. All the fears and insecurities we (I) have about not being enough, not doing enough. Permission to just do what you need to do, for yourself, for your sanity, for your health...it can be hard not to feel that that has to be justified, or explained, even to yourself. There was a lot of good that came out of it. It created some patterns for me. I got my body back, at least to some extent. When I need to stretch in the morning, I do. There are still days I'm pretty sore, but not the way I was, for months on end. I'm okay to be on the computer in the mornings when I need to – like this morning. I've been pretty terrible about the computer – I'm way behind on my social media stuff, and my website. I have kept up the writing. I have kept up the reading. I'm determined to pick up my fiddle again before the end of the month. These things are all easier because I gave myself that permission – even if I had to stomp my foot and have a tantrum inside myself to do it.

It's funny, sometimes, the paths we take to get to where we are. There are days I look back and think “why on earth did I choose that route? It would have been so much simpler to go the other way.” Not unlike when I was climbing (which I miss terribly.) It's the need to challenge myself, to see if I can figure it out, and regardless of how much more complicated I make it, I generally find I've learned something valuable.

Resolute

 

A random shot of the fire of a smelting furnace - fire is always an appropriate image!

 

Another year has passed. Everything has changed, everything has stayed the same. I've never been one for new year's celebrations, let alone resolutions. Just the other day I was telling the story of being invited to a friend's for New Year's as a kid. I was a bit confused by the vibrancy of their plans. Sure, we recognized it was New Year's in my house, sometimes we'd even stay up until midnight and toast each other with gingerale (or whatever they were drinking that was age appropriate.) A party, fireworks, outdoor raucous ramblings, running around yelling ...it all seemed a bit much. I've always preferred a quieter observance, I guess, for most things. I do understand the impulse to celebrate things – anything and everything can be cause for celebration, and it should be. I've come to understand that sometimes we truly need celebration – particularly wild, ecstatic celebration. It is part of the human condition.

I most certainly understand the impulse to start fresh, to try to improve, to strive to do better … I've always done that, but I tend to do it a lot more regularly – every day, or whenever I'm faced with beginning or ending or failure. To have it as a New Year's thing just never felt right to me, and so, thinking ahead to what I want to try to do in the coming months my choices feel a little disingenuous to me, but a friend has been posting about goals they set last year and goals they are setting for the coming year, and it made me think about things a little differently. The idea of 52 for 52 presented itself to me – 52 undertakings in various areas throughout the year, one each week. The idea appealed as a good way to try to nurture discipline in some of the things I'm trying to work on.

Definitions of the word resolute vary – the various dictionaries don't want to be identical, after all...but they all boil down to the same thing. Merriam-Webster online sums it up nicely as “marked by firm determination.” I like the feel of that, and I've decided that against all my own misgivings, that is what I choose for this year, I choose to be resolute, to be marked by firm determination. Not just in my undertaking of doing certain things on a weekly basis or better, but in my outlook for the year, in my attitude and my actions I will aim to be resolute. And I will celebrate, albeit quietly. I will celebrate anything, and, I hope, everything. Maybe somewhere in there I will find an occasion that demands wild and ecstatic celebration, and if I give in to the impulse my celebrations will be markedly determined.

Where Has the Time Gone?

 

I was so proud of keeping up with my posts on a regular basis...even if it was only once a month. How on earth did I go from August to DECEMBER without realizing I'd missed posting?

Well, it has been pretty busy, actually. I was thinking about it a couple of weeks ago and I realized that I've been working like I did when I was in my 30s over the past few months




.

I guess that isn't exactly accurate either. I'm working smarter than I did when I was in my 30s. I'm getting more than 2 hours of sleep most nights. I'm taking better care of myself and my health. When I'm feeling really, really broken or exhausted I stop for a bit. I've said “no” to a few things. So maybe not quite like I did when I was in my 30s, but...long days, 7 days a week most of the time...working hard, working constantly.

There is another difference. More of the work is either “for” me, or what I'm increasingly seeing as the “right” kind of work. That also means there is less money involved – certainly for most of it there isn't a financial paycheque, but it pays in other ways.

August, September, October, even into November there was a chunk of work going into the yard – the building of my little permaculture paradise. The harvesting of what was a pretty meager bunch of stuff this year – for all the planting I did, all the annual seeds, with the crazy weather and the extreme wet, very little thrived. The trees and the perennials did, and that was more important to me this year. But not so much the things I thought I'd be harvesting. There was also the things I did to help a neighbour or two in their gardens, and what they so generously let me harvest from their bounty. Or what they harvested and then gifted excess to us. All of that needed to be processed or packed away so that it didn't go to waste, and as little as there may have been it ate up a lot of time. The more of your own food you create the closer to a full time job it becomes, but hey, eating is of pretty prime importance on my list.

Circumstances and events also have me providing more care for some local animals, chief cook and chambermaid as it were. This is something I'm happy to do, no matter the time it takes. The time spent is invaluable, important and has its own set of rewards. It won't be forever, and I have the time to give, so it is what I choose to do. No obligations, no expectations, it is just the right thing to do. And there is no questioning the appreciation I receive in return – I'm making a difference, however small.

I had thought this was going to be a quiet time, so I decided to take a course as well, during this period. Well, it turns out it wasn't a quiet time, but I'd already committed to the course, so...

Then there was the fact that I lucked into a really great part-time job, which also does provide a paycheque, and makes a difference in my day-to-day. I get to work with some great people and it offers me a lot to learn. It gets me introduced to a bit of the local community. Not to mention it is in an absolutely delicious environment...cheese has always been one of my favourite food groups!

I've even had a little bit of wig building work – again, grateful for that for both the income it provides and for keeping my skills intact. Plus knotting is still something I very much enjoy.

 

Through all of this, I've been putting in a lot of work on Elfworks. I've been trying to get some things photographed, supposedly for getting more things up on the website, which hasn't happened, but I'm not giving up just yet. I was accepted into the Museum of Dufferin's annual Holiday Treasures show again this year, and I was determined to have at least a few new designs beyond a few new pewter pieces for it. I did, in fact, manage to design and execute some new product, and a few new designs. I've been trying to keep up with photographing things in process, both for publication here and for more detailed articles that I put up on my Patreon Page https://www.patreon.com/elfworksstudios . 

 

So, I have been writing, I've just missed writing here – I put up at least 2 things per month on the Patreon page, though I strive for more. I have a number of half-researched articles I'm working on for that being kicked into shape, if more slowly than I'd like. And while I did miss a few weeks, I've also been trying to keep up my social media posts on Facebook and Instagram as best I can. 

 

So all in all, I guess it isn't all that surprising that this blog got away from me, though I certainly didn't mean to let it happen. I'm picking up the torch again, and will strive to keep up. I'm not sure things have quieted down all that much, but I seem to have a slightly better handle on some of them. A few things are finished up and some have just become a little more manageable. I'm working on an exciting new project for Elfworks, that I can't talk about just yet, and I'm very pleased with how well it is coming along. I have plans for a number of other projects once it is finished, and we are continuing to work on the forge space. The winter months will likely also see some more space renovations get underway, opening up lots of new opportunities and possibilities for making.

 

I look forward to telling you more about the ups and downs here, and whats going on. I'll make every effort to get back to regular postings and keep those who are interested in following along in the loop. If I don't get back here before then, I wish everyone the happiest of Holiday seasons, whatever you celebrate (even if all you celebrate is having some time off.)

Every Now and Every Then

Knowing when you need to focus outwards on the world around you and when to acknowledge it but remain focused on where you are and what you are doing is a horrible tightrope to walk. Those outside your inner realms will often jump up and down and accuse you of being selfish and uncaring. But sometimes, you need to be true not only to yourself, but to all of those who have shown you support and encouraged you to do what you do. Taking everything on and taking everything to heart can't be done. We are very small creatures in a very big world, and an even bigger universe.

But how do you know when you are hiding from what is happening and when you are honouring what needs to be done?  

The first part of this post was written ages ago, but I think it is pertinent to the times.  The continuing and ever changing wave of pandemic pressures and uncertainties.  Things may be "opening up" but everyone is going to have to continue to navigate a "new normal" unless they are willfully ignoring the realities of things - as some always will.  I don't think it is time even for the "new normal" to begin, but I understand everyone's need to believe it is here.

In July of this year I was pretty much a lump.  I had been very active for the first 6 months, working on everything - from garden to digital ventures, creating to cataloguing,  writing to fiddling.  When July hit, it all came crashing down.  My 2nd vaccine took me out for a few days.  Then I twisted something - my ankle I think.  It was rainy, I was tired and sore and I just never got up to speed.  I kept doing things that gave me twinges - sore wrist, sore ankle again, sore legs.  Some of that is probably because with all the other things that stopped in July, I also stopped stretching every morning.  Probably, I just needed a break.  

The one thing I did do plenty of in July was read.  I put aside the pile of non-fiction I'm working through and gave in to a host of old favourites from my fiction shelves.  It gave me a chance to reset a little, and I managed (mostly) to ignore the ticking of the clock of the time I have to get things done! and the voice in the back of my head telling me to get up and get at it.

It helped me to refocus, to get energized for some projects that didn't involve all things growing.  It eased me into revisiting things I realize once or twice a year and then seem to promptly forget or ignore.  Things I often write about here, but having given it a glancing acknowledgement then fail to put into practice.  (Like, maybe if I gave myself a day off every once in a while I would be less likely to need to fall down for a whole month?)

So far, August has been closer to the norm - I'm working on prototyping some new pieces, getting work done outside when weather permits, trying to get back to writing, photographing, cataloguing etc.  I'm trying not to push too hard, trying not to feel rushed.  I'm not back into my pile of non-fiction just yet, but I'm continuing to devour stories, myths and legends.  Every time I reset, I try to do a little better, on some level at least.

The world is filled with uncertainty, fear, impatience, desperation - not that it is anything new, but it is more palpable than usual.  This pandemic has made a lot of people turn all those things that they are feeling into anger, and outrage.  There are a lot of soapboxes that have been getting a lot of use lately.  Many of the things people are choosing to use as a focus for that anger are things that they really should be angry about, things that should outrage us all.  It will be interesting to see how many people remain committed to those causes if they get any sort of normal back.  Yes, that was only very slightly related to where I started, but this is how my brain meanders through what passes for my thinking process.

So, how do you know when you are hiding and when you are honouring what needs to be done?  Well, the answer will be a little different for everyone I expect.  One of the things that I've come to believe is that you have to take some time and some space for starters.  Take a good look at what you are labelling something as "needs to be done."  Needs to be done for whom?  Needs to be done for why?  Take a moment and look at the word needs - decide if it is an accurate description.

  

Every now and then we need to hide, sometimes it is the right thing to do.  Every now and then, we need to take a deep breath and screw our courage to the sticking place, and get out there and do it anyway.  Every now is an opportunity to step back and take stock, take a good look and make a decision.  If you let others decide for you, no matter how well-intentioned, looking back at every then could be a regret on some level.  You can't do everything, none of us can.  What you can do, is make what you do count, for yourself at the very least. 

Working In Increments

I love being a jack-of-many-trades. I don't say all because there are a lot of things I can't do and don't even try to. It does have its downsides though. One of the things about finding so many things absolutely fascinating is you want to do them all. Ideally you want to do them all well. I love learning about things, and I love getting lost in what I'm doing. Unfortunately almost everything I love to do, or would love to do takes time and practice to build the skills. The more time you put in, the better you get. Regularly practicing and building skills is a rewarding and exciting thing to do.

But when you are interested in practically everything, how do you fit it all in?

I will spend my lifetime trying to find a decent balance between all the things I like to do, and probably never really succeed. That is okay, I'm having a good time along the way, and every baby step in each of the areas leads somewhere. It is frustrating at times, to say the least. There are plenty of times when one of the worst bits is trying to pick the thing you are going to spend time on. Sometimes the weather will help you make the choice, sometimes time and circumstance will help you out (if it is 3am and you need to pick something to practice and everyone else is sound asleep, something loud is probably not your best choice, as one example.) Energy levels and focus can play a factor too. If I'm really physically spent, going out to the forge might not be my best bet. Carving is probably a better choice.

There are times when you realize that there are things you've pushed down the list for too long. Not that they aren't interesting anymore, just that they have been less immediate. And the balance shifts again.

One good example of this that is glaring at me just now is drawing. Drawing – or at least being able to sketch almost coherently – is actually pretty important in most of the things I do. I'm really pretty bad at it, and I know so many incredible visual artists that it takes a lot of muster for me to put pencil to paper. My partner came up with a great solution. (I may have talked about this before.) He realized that one of the things holding me back was that fine line on that glaringly beautiful white expanse of paper. I got intimidated by the page. After a dinner at one of those roadhouse restaurants where they have kraft paper on the table with a cup full of crayons in which we were discussing design ideas and I was doodling with abandon, he came up with a manilla sketchpad and a box of crayons as a gift for me. It worked like a treat for a while. I spent hours doodling in the pad, and came up with a few not-too-shabby design ideas that were rendered in a fairly coherent manner.

For the last long while though, they've been gathering dust by my corner of the couch, abandoned. I realized the other day that it's been so long since I put anything into my shop sketchbook that I wasn't sure where it was. Probably not a good sign. Not that I haven't been making anything, but I certainly haven't made any notes on it or drawn any of the things I've been making. So while I've gotten better at stretching and practicing my fiddle, and made some strides with getting out to the shop I haven't done a lick of carving or sketching for months on end.

I'm beginning to realize, though, that that is okay. Things have their seasons, and as the wheel turns everything gets its time. I'm not abandoning anything, and sometimes, I find that the space of a rest has let the the information I gained in the previous flurry of activity settle into one more notch of understanding in both my brain and my hands. I can't give everything an hour or two a day – there just aren't enough hours in the day, nor do I have anywhere near that much energy. So everything gets its turn, and each skill gets built (sometimes frustratingly) slowly, but it increases nonetheless. Sometimes its about remembering why you are doing it and most especially, not comparing your progress to the skills of others.