Green Flamingos, Nelson Mandela and Courage

Over the last few months I’ve noticed green flamingos around Starkville. They started popping up unexpectedly on bridge railings, electric boxes and the like, your typical vandal fare. But, they were some pretty well-designed vandal fare. These repetitive stenciled green fowl were nicely composed and sufficiently funky — something a designer would enjoy. And, it ticked me off.

It ticked me off so much that I was poised to launch one of my infrequent, but soul-cleansing rant posts complete with a few of the following points:

1. Kids these days.
2. Great. My tax dollars are going to have to clean that up.
3. That whole underground starving artist thing may seem glamorous, but it’s, well, NOT.
4. Get a job!
5. It may look like art, but it’s actually a misdemeanor.
6. Your talent is a gift. Make it count.

Yep, I’ll admit I was ready to unload, but that’s not the essay I’m writing. An overloaded schedule (and maybe some poor time management skills) stepped in and allowed those uncensored thoughts some time to germinate. Although I may still feel the same way on many of the points, they’ve also reminded me of the need for a shift in thinking.

“Your playing small doesn’t save the world.”

It’s from a quote by Nelson Mandela. It’s been floating around in my brain since I read it in a transcript of a commencement address several years ago. I can’t escape it. And, before I knew it, my impetuous rant turned into a post about courage. It’s been a while since I’ve written about the pursuit of my 2010 theme word. Perhaps I’ve been too immersed in exercising some courage in a few areas of late (where exercising equals being tossed into the deep end and hoping your swimsuit top doesn’t fly off.) I suppose that the laboratory takes priority over the lecture series in life lessons just as it often does in the traditional classroom.

I read in last week’s Starkville paper that the green flamingo vandals have turned themselves into the police department. They are exactly who I imagined they were — a couple of art students at the university making their mark on the world, literally. They are offering restitution and performing clean-up duties in hopes their records can escape with only minor blemishes. I’m sure their parents are hoping the same, and that their dollars spent on higher education will not go to waste. End of story.

Only not.

I’m sure there are more personal elements to the situation, to which, as a mother, I would likely be sympathetic. As an artist, I’m sure even more sympathetic. As a person, quite challenged with the realization that talent deserves courage. The broader quote from Mr. Mandela says this…

“Our worst fear is not that we are inadequate.  Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.  It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.  We ask ourselves, ‘who am I to be brilliant gorgeous, talented and fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be?  You are a child of God.  Your playing small doesn’t save the world.”

This from a man who has seen and lived at the pinnacle of authority and power as well as the despair of imprisonment, a man who HAS changed many aspects of the world around him. My first reaction to green flamingos was to say… Your talent is being misplaced. Your education is a privilege many in the world aren’t offered. The opportunity to learn in the arts is one many in the world don’t experience — or at the least they experience it with makeshift tools and eagerly devote themselves to the instruction knowing it may be their only hope to rise from desperate living situations. The superfluous materials of stencils and spray paint are luxuries many in the world can’t afford because they need rice or flour. While my first notion was to remind those young students of these facts, my more in-depth realization is to remind myself. To challenge myself against laziness. To challenge myself against cynicism and pessimism. To challenge myself against pity and compaint. To challenge myself into embracing big gifts.

I’m talented, as each person is in unique ways. And those talents aren’t entitlements or rights. They are gifts. Remarkable gifts. It’s so typical to diminish them. To be shaken by others who diminish them. To deny them. To apologize for them. To waste them. To shirk them. To make them seem small. To use them as if they WERE small.

“Your playing small doesn’t save the world.”

Even if the only world I’m saving is the one where I sit every day, I’m realizing that whatever talents I bring to bear on that world require courage. The world where I sit deserves a courageous talent, one that is used wisely and generously, without fear and without apology. To make those gifts count in whatever tiny sphere I apply them is my privilege. My responsibility.

Oh Happy Day 043010: Lunch Hour

It’s Friday again! It’s the day I’ve set aside for my little gratitude blogging experiment — the Oh Happy Day! project. It’s my version of “TGIF” with the literal “thanking” thrown in. I try to pull at least one thing from the week for which I am thankful as a way of re-focusing my attention on the blessings of life and love and time. Honestly, it usually works. Gratitude is funny that way. (And, yes, I’m a bit sporadic about the project like I am with everything else. But, I know you’ve grown to accept my Junkie ways.)

This week, it was easy to decide my most gratitude-inducing experience. It was obvious the moment it occurred. Not every week is like that. Sometimes that choice is a bigger stretch. Sometimes there are so many things to be thankful for that it’s hard to choose one to act as Junkie subject matter. Sometimes, my vision is clouded, and I can hardly recognize even one of those blessings to inspire my writing (and thankful heart). This week started out in a move toward the latter. I began Monday tired and frustrated from some events of the prior weekend. A busy schedule and a full immersion in my own overthinking tendencies compounded my anticipation of a “difficult” week. Annoyingly, the mopes just tend to multiply, pushing gratitude further and further from my mind.

Then yesterday rolled around. It was the peak of my frustration, the final lap of my racing thoughts, the tipping point of my emotional balance. Lunch hour to the rescue! I opted for the local deli not far from my office and an outdoor table. Nothing adjusts the attitude like lunch outdoors. I ordered the usual… a cup of chili with crackes and a large sweet tea. This time I also got one of those giant sugar cookies simply because I was at the aforementioned peak. I sat down and was able to look around me. Outside. Outside of me. I felt the temperature of an unusually cool Spring day in April. I stopped taking my own temperature for a moment. I made notes in my journal about new blog posts and work promotions. I took note of something besides my own frustrations. I enjoyed a phone call from a friend, and I listened to a voice outside the one in my own head. Sitting there in my blazer and heels, trying to keep the napkins from littering the parking lot, I actually felt the wind on my face. I actually noticed for the first time that day that there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was a breath of fresh air, literally and for my spirit. It was beanless chili with just the right amount of spice for my body, but it was food for my soul.

It always amazes me how a little thing can shift perspective. How a simple and mundane action can alter so many things when we choose to pay attention to it. I guess that’s why I write about it so much. Sometimes the daily things we do a thousand times are just the needed reminder that life is big and small all at the same time. Having lunch outdoors at the deli on Thursday–something I do quite often–turned me around with its sheer simplicity. Simple words. Simple tastes. Simple light. Simple sweetness. Simple deep breaths. Simple pleasures. It shifted me outside myself. And, that’s a good thing.

Thursday’s midday experience made me think of the other spectacular “power” lunches I’ve had this week–the ones that were lost in my internal involvement… Monday’s unexpected sandwiches with my Mom and Dad, Tuesday’s quesadilla with the Queen featuring project planning and sage advice, Wednesday’s enjoyment of leftover taco fixings at my desk catching up with cyberspace.

This  morning, I got the call. It was one of the girls from downstairs in our office inquiring about lunch. We call it “Friday Lunch,” and it’s become a tradition around here for whoever wants to join in. (I’m posting about it today in Quack! the other blog I write for the day job.) We decided on our chosen local carryout by the typical process of elimination and deferring of judgement. We sit to eat together. It has power. And, I enjoyed it.

This week, I’m thankful for lunch. Oh Happy Day!

Oh Happy Day 031910: Collaboration

It’s Friday, and I’ve decided to resurrect my long-overdue Oh Happy Day! Gratitude Project. It was waaay back on (look at that!) November 13th that I last posted my own version of EyeJunkie “thank God it’s Friday” fare. This little project was fueled many moons ago by something I read that encouraged me to right my attitude daily by writing down five things for which I am grateful. I have SERIOUSLY fallen short of that admonition lately (read ignored), but I notice more and more every day just how important a thankful heart and attitude are in the daily consumption of a joyful life. You can read the whole story on the humble beginnings of the Oh Happy Day! project, or you can just trust me and pick up the trail here…

It’s been a crazy week of ups and downs (like most weeks), and the downs often present a challenge to my joy quotient–and sometimes my energy quotient. It’s helpful to skew that process back in the right direction by paying attention to the things or people or circumstances for which I’m thankful. It’s funny how an attitude of gratitude can sometimes mysteriously turn the downs back to the upside. Recognizing the blessings in my life, especially those in unexpected or hard-revealed places, helps me gain new perspective.

THIS WEEK I’ve been very grateful for the lost art of collaboration. If you read much around the internet on the subject of innovation or creativity or business development or even urban development (as I, in my nerd-like qualities do), you’ve probably seen the term “silos” as it relates to storing up ideas rather than grain. Despite the preschool tenets of sharing and taking turns that are burned into our brains and sensibilities, we sometimes grow up determined to build silos or isolated pockets of information, influence or resources. We often see a fear in sharing which makes us hold our thoughts and gifts with a closed fist. Collaboration becomes threatening somehow. But, it’s a happy day! This week I’ve seen collaboration in action in a couple of (three) ways. And, I’m so grateful for its impact on my life, work and parenting. Here’s what I’ve noticed.

Collaboration encites courage.
Through a few specific conversations and phone calls recently, I’ve noticed that two are so much better than one when it comes to handling frustrating, challenging or simply new situations. Sharing our own thoughts and feelings is often the type of collaboration we are most resistant to. However, articulating my thinking with a trusted confidante actually makes those thoughts and concerns so much more manageable. I can more easily take ownership of what’s frustrating me with the encouragement of someone who’s listened. It gives me courage to tackle the difficult circumstances with my eyes open, spunk in my step and perhaps a little bit more perspective or wisdom in my pocket. And, THAT courage makes me want to be available to someone else who needs that same collaboration.

Collaboration enables creativity.
I mentioned this week’s collaboration with my friend, Jennifer Wyatt, owner of Her Executive Coach. Our experiment with Facebook has been a joyful experience that reminded me of how much more creative and innovative I can be when I’m in conversation or collaboration. Creativity feeds off itself. Creative people spur me on to be more creative. Collaboration enables that synergy that makes new ideas more apparent. It makes the new ideas seem more possible. Creativity can be diminished in a vacuum. So, whether it’s in writing adventures, child-rearing, marketing my day job or just figuring out what’s for dinner, my creative endeavors can benefit from interactions, from exposure to new ideas and methods, and from the types of collaborations Jennifer was willing to give.

Collaboration encourages harmony.
Little Drummer Boy and Bug offered some much-sought-after examples of this principle this week. They are at the ages when we are swinging between the my-brother-is-my-best-friend and the my-brother-is-my-mortal-enemy camps on a whim. I just never know from one moment to the next where I’m going to land. We try our best to encourage, beg, scold and bribe the boys into doing and saying kind things to one another. Several times this week, I found myself wide-eyed at spontaneous collaboration going on between my sweet gifts. LDB offered advice on using the “big potty.” He gave instructions on how to write letters in the alphabet–instructions Bug was eager to follow. Bug requested input on various car chases and dinosaur stories. They determined the rules of their own hallway (read Montgomery speedway) games. It was amazing. I’m actually inclined to say miraculous, a description I’m sure other preschool Mommies out there will be happy to validate. I’m starting to catch on to something here. Maybe working TOGETHER on something is a lot more fun that arguing. Lovely food for parenting thought.

Thank you, collaboration.
Oh Happy Day!

4th Day of Thanksgiving: 10:03pm

10:03pm

For those of you who may not be privy to the secret inner world of WordPress Dude, the EyeJunkie posts don’t always come hot off the keyboard just as the thoughts spring from my brain. No, sometimes I actually schedule them ahead. [shock!] Sometimes I let them sit in my digital diary for weeks or months, adding a sentence or two here and there until they’ve adequately germinated. Sometimes they sit in the draft queue for a while waiting on me to hit the “publish” button. Sometimes they hang out in my hand-written title brainstorm list for an inordinate amount of time while I make room on the priority list. Sometimes WordPress Dude’s auto save function presses happily on while I scoot over to dictionary.com to find out the correct spelling of a word or while I answer one of the 4yo, 3yo or 1yo questions that come my way. If I’m really honest, sometimes when I say “last night” it was actually a few nights ago, or maybe a few months ago. Life’s just like that. Although the blogging medium is usually a little more transparent than some, WordPress Dude still offers a modicum of subterfuge tactics. It’s kind of like learning that President Obama wasn’t really the one writing all those tweets. Just as obvious, only with a MUCH smaller audience. For the three of my kind readers to whom it wasn’t obvious, I can only say… Pay no attention to the gal behind the curtain.

I think I may have taken this intro a little further than necessary.

10:16pm

I say all that to say this… This post is coming off the keyboard in real time. It’s a little odd even for me, but I needed a little self-intervention. You see, I’ve been struggling all day with coming up with some idea (any idea) for what to write about giving thanks. The fact is, I’m just about “give out,” as they say in my best Southern. It’s been a frustrating week so far with few thanksgiving fuzzies. I feel like I’m giving out in so many areas–being a wife, a mother, a cook, a home-keeper, a “creative”, a designer, a blogger, a social media strategist, a writer–and there’s not enough coming back in at the moment. Likely, I’ve stretched my creativity too thin, which happens periodically, but the bottom line is that thanksgiving is not really part of the equation right now.

I’ve been frustrated. I’ve been irritated. I’ve been tired. I’ve been a complainer and even a whiner. I’ve been ripe for ranting about something, anything. [Aside: I fed the rant habit with a little ditty I'll post tomorrow] I had to ask Little Drummer Boy’s forgiveness today. I had to try two gas pumps before the credit card machine would work. While staring aimlessly ahead as I pumped away $35, I read “container” as “cantankerous” on the petroleum warnings. Enough said.

10:26pm

So, I’m going uncensored this evening in an attempt to sharply correct my attitude. And to add a shot of reality into this 12 Days of Thanksgiving thing. I just don’t feel like being grateful. I can’t find my gratitude inspiration. It’s Day 4. What can I glean about giving thanks from this predicament.

Here’s something that’s as good as any… Thanksgiving is my choice. There I said it. If thanksgiving is my choice, then being a whiner is my choice too. Ouch. It’s a painful reality. It’s not that I don’t have something to be thankful for or that there is nothing in my life to inspire my gratitude. The problem is that I’m choosing to focus my attention in the wrong direction. It’s my choice.

So, here goes. With you as my witness, I’m turning the corner, turning the page, whatever. It’s time to rethink my choice. I’m going to spend the next 15 minutes writing things I’m thankful for. And, I don’t mean a list of stuff I like. I mean things that have added blessing and value to my life just in the last few days. Ready, go.

10:35pm

Old friends that have unintentionally encouraged me to get real — A work acquaintance who responded to a request I thought was overlooked in such an incredibly generous, humble and transparent way — The ability to write what I think and feel in this amazing forum and have other people actually read it — The sweet voice of Bug as he sings his lullaby with me, and keeping my voice as soft as humanly possible so I could hear — Obys takeout on a busy day — Having the opportunity to speak for Dux D’Lux in online media, a great and challenging responsibility — A job that has continued to challenge me for 15 years, where I’ve continued to learn and grow creatively — Our first really crisp day — A glowing orange cable-knit v-neck sweater for $14.99 (I’m a girl, and it’s basic, folks) — The internet, what unprecedented access to ideas and opinions from everywhere all at once — The screaming from my hallway and realizing it’s the glee of truck races and giggles rather than arguments — A few days of full-time work for Quiver and the hope that it will continue — Baby Girl has not been pulling on her ear in the last few days and early evening naps have made her a happy camper — The artistic vision of Walter Anderson — Relatively smooth mornings and safe travel as I’ve handled getting all three gifts dressed and to preschool by myself this week — The anticipation of getting to have lunch with Little Drummer Boy on Friday — The fact that my gifts love going to their school — The act of forgiveness, giving and receiving it — Rat poison to stop that incessant scratching during these first cold days (sorry, had to go there because it’s distracting me) — The joy that comes from learning from others — The opportunity to give grace where it’s due and where it isn’t –

10:50pm

Ok. The choice is a no-brainer.

Monday Music

This piece from the American Life in Poetry series crossed my Inbox at just the right time today. I had high hopes for the weekend, but found my worst enemy right there in the mirror. I spent the two days scurrying and worrying about this, disgruntled and complaining about that.  I feel I missed the opportunity to really wade in to what matters–to the lights of my life, to the joys of my life, to what inspires the best of my creativity. Today I’m listening to my own gifts’ example. Today I’m hearing the music anew. Today is a day to drink in deeply.

American Life in Poetry: Column 239
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006

It’s likely that if you found the original handwritten manuscript of T. S. Eliot’s groundbreaking poem, “The Waste Land,” you wouldn’t be able to trade it for a candy bar at the Quick Shop on your corner. Here’s a poem by David Lee Garrison of Ohio about how unsuccessfully classical music fits into a subway.

Bach in the DC Subway

As an experiment,
The Washington Post
asked a concert violinist—
wearing jeans, tennis shoes,
and a baseball cap—
to stand near a trash can
at rush hour in the subway
and play Bach
on a Stradivarius.
Partita No. 2 in D Minor
called out to commuters
like an ocean to waves,
sang to the station
about why we should bother
to live.

A thousand people
streamed by. Seven of them
paused for a minute or so
and thirty-two dollars floated
into the open violin case.
A café hostess who drifted
over to the open door
each time she was free
said later that Bach
gave her peace,
and all the children,
all of them,
waded into the music
as if it were water,
listening until they had to be
rescued by parents
who had somewhere else to go.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2008 by David Lee Garrison, whose most recent book of poems is Sweeping the Cemetery: New and Selected Poems, Browser Books Publishing, 2007. Poem reprinted from Rattle, Vol. 14, No. 2, Winter 2008, by permission of David Lee Garrison and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2009 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.