Five years ago (February 13th, 2006), I met up with my friend Anthony McCann in Sheffield, England, where he was working at a University. He was a lecturer there, and was not happy with the way that people in his kind of post were being treated. It was a very discouraging situation. He had also recently had his heart broken, and the approach of Valentine's Day was not a happy prospect. I, too, was recovering from a difficult time - and so we very quickly decided to pronounce the 13th of February "International Inner Puppy Day." Why not? (Why 'Inner Puppy's? I will tell you... but first, a bit about Anthony).
Anthony is a scholar, songwriter, watcher and interpreter of good popular tv shows, lifetime student of the paranormal, social theorist, and all-around encourager of gentleness in the way we live and treat one another. In fact, he is making this last bit his life's work now (see Crafting Gentleness). He hails from Northern Ireland, and has been teaching at the University in Derry. When at his best (which is most of the time), he is always quick with a smile, a quip, an encouraging word (or 20), and full of enthusiasm and creative energy - especially for do-gooding (and some silliness). He has been a friend for some time, from the days where we played music amidst the musical community that gathered in the living room at my old house in Takoma Park. It was a gathering of great talent, generosity, and kindness.
Inner puppies? Well, a few years before the occasion of the first International Inner Puppy Day, I was telling Anthony about a dream I had. In my dream I had a puppy, and somehow had left it in the car when I went about some other things, and woke with a start when I realized that I had forgotten to feed it! I felt terrible, as I woke up. After my retelling, Anthony promptly said - "I know what that dream means, Katy!" I said "what?" He told me I needed to feed my inner puppy. He was right. I had let myself get too stressed out (preparing for grad school, dealing with my Mom, who was starting to have difficulty), and wasn't doing enough to recharge the playful, lovable, happy-go-lucky part(s) of who I am.
It became a kind of way to check in with each other as friends: Are you feeding your inner puppy? How's your inner puppy doing? So on that bleak day in Sheffield, we needed to do something big - and in the typical fashion of Anthony McCann, something encompassing a wider range of people than just ourselves. International Inner Puppy Day is intended for everyone who doesn't have a sweetheart for Valentine's Day; but also, more importantly, an occasion to remember and enjoy all of the friends and fun we all do have in our lives. A holiday for all.
This year, we had arranged to both be in London, to celebrate the holiday together once again. The first time since its founding. He is the one with a new sweetheart (mentioned in the previous post), this year in time for Valentine's Day...but I can't hold it against him! She seems to be doing a good job of helping him feed his inner puppy, from what I can tell. :-) And seeing him, and meeting her, has indeed fed mine.
So when going forth and being creative, everyone - remember to feed your inner puppy while you're at it! And next year,
on February 13th, when the world seems drear and gray,
and spring's bright cheerfulness so far away -
remember to celebrate International Inner Puppy Day!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Across the Pond; gardening adventures begin!
Friday I made it to London Heathrow, early in the morning - and despite having plenty of time, managed to spend far more money than necessary...to arrive late to my first rendez-vous here in England. It wasn't entirely my fault; my friend had said simply that we'd meet up 'in Central London'...but then, I hadn't thought to ask for further details until that morning (! - and his mobile phone wasn't working properly for some reason). At any rate, I was humbled and ready to take a load off by the time I made it into London to meet up.
Refreshed with a spot of good pub brunch/lunch, amid much good cheer (including meeting his lovely new sweetheart), I made my way to meet up with my sister-in-law in High Barnet and to the rounds of picking my niece and nephews up from their respective schools. It was very good to see them all - and I was indoctrinated into the important sport of foosball (sp?? - table-top soccer with spinning rods of attached 'players') after arriving at the house. My brother Will arrived not long afterwards, and after a good dinner, cleaning up, and watching a show on the telly, I was ready to drop into a profound slumber, which I did promptly when my head hit the pillow. I did not wake up until the next morning, when everyone was sitting down to breakfast. (After nine hours of sleep).
Happily, the weather was on the warm side, if a little damp and cloudy. As far as I was concerned, this was all right. Especially since that next morning (Saturday) I got to have a somewhat unexpected early start on my gardening adventures(!). It turns out that my brother and his wife had just had a number of trees removed from their back garden (newly acquired with their newly purchased house in August), and the remaining brush pile from this operation was impressive - taking up an entire corner of their future garden space. I was a timely extra pair of hands, and we all set to work that morning breaking down as much as we could into manageable bits to fit it into the bins. Much of it was holly, and prickly, and because of the dampness in England - fairly mossy, too. It was fairly monotonous work, but we fell into a rhythm, and managed to put a big dent into it. I was quite happy to help get the garden down to more of a 'clean slate' state - and will feel good about that contribution when it starts to take shape, and grow into their outdoor retreat in suburban London. (My sister-in-law - who is fairly new to garden design and gardening on this scale - is in good hands with this project, as she has joined the local gardening club that gives support, advice, and encouragement.)
In the midst of this enterprise, my 4-year old nephew started talking to us about how boring it was doing what we were doing. So then I began to tell him how things that can be monotonous (but are necessary) are easier and take less time the more people there are doing them. I mentioned how talking with people can help to pass the time, too, and makes it that much more fun. Then I realized that talking to him had helped the time pass more pleasantly, and when I mentioned that, I think he may have understood what I meant (...maybe? :-).
One night at dinner, we joked about how I was adding another kind of gardening exchange to my adventures. In the typical love-of-word-play fashion of my family, we came up with several possible acronyms for names (as opposed to 'WWOOF'). The favorite (and most appropriate to share here) being "BURP": 'Barren Urban Regeneration Program.' I'd say this new scheme went well, and is quite satisfying for both parties - any help there at this point makes a difference, and I'm sure is much appreciated! So, will there be another BURP in Katy's future, when she passes through London again on her way back at the end of March? What other outdoor and gardening adventures will she find along the way? Stay tuned, good readers, to find out... !
Refreshed with a spot of good pub brunch/lunch, amid much good cheer (including meeting his lovely new sweetheart), I made my way to meet up with my sister-in-law in High Barnet and to the rounds of picking my niece and nephews up from their respective schools. It was very good to see them all - and I was indoctrinated into the important sport of foosball (sp?? - table-top soccer with spinning rods of attached 'players') after arriving at the house. My brother Will arrived not long afterwards, and after a good dinner, cleaning up, and watching a show on the telly, I was ready to drop into a profound slumber, which I did promptly when my head hit the pillow. I did not wake up until the next morning, when everyone was sitting down to breakfast. (After nine hours of sleep).
Happily, the weather was on the warm side, if a little damp and cloudy. As far as I was concerned, this was all right. Especially since that next morning (Saturday) I got to have a somewhat unexpected early start on my gardening adventures(!). It turns out that my brother and his wife had just had a number of trees removed from their back garden (newly acquired with their newly purchased house in August), and the remaining brush pile from this operation was impressive - taking up an entire corner of their future garden space. I was a timely extra pair of hands, and we all set to work that morning breaking down as much as we could into manageable bits to fit it into the bins. Much of it was holly, and prickly, and because of the dampness in England - fairly mossy, too. It was fairly monotonous work, but we fell into a rhythm, and managed to put a big dent into it. I was quite happy to help get the garden down to more of a 'clean slate' state - and will feel good about that contribution when it starts to take shape, and grow into their outdoor retreat in suburban London. (My sister-in-law - who is fairly new to garden design and gardening on this scale - is in good hands with this project, as she has joined the local gardening club that gives support, advice, and encouragement.)
In the midst of this enterprise, my 4-year old nephew started talking to us about how boring it was doing what we were doing. So then I began to tell him how things that can be monotonous (but are necessary) are easier and take less time the more people there are doing them. I mentioned how talking with people can help to pass the time, too, and makes it that much more fun. Then I realized that talking to him had helped the time pass more pleasantly, and when I mentioned that, I think he may have understood what I meant (...maybe? :-).
One night at dinner, we joked about how I was adding another kind of gardening exchange to my adventures. In the typical love-of-word-play fashion of my family, we came up with several possible acronyms for names (as opposed to 'WWOOF'). The favorite (and most appropriate to share here) being "BURP": 'Barren Urban Regeneration Program.' I'd say this new scheme went well, and is quite satisfying for both parties - any help there at this point makes a difference, and I'm sure is much appreciated! So, will there be another BURP in Katy's future, when she passes through London again on her way back at the end of March? What other outdoor and gardening adventures will she find along the way? Stay tuned, good readers, to find out... !
Thursday, February 10, 2011
And....she's off!
Here I go... !
This morning I awoke to the first dusting of snow in Virginia (where I've been staying with family) that I've seen since arriving in early January. Pretty exciting... as I prepare myself to travel to the lands of winter rains. It has felt a bit surreal to finally be leaving, after preparing for so long.
I stayed up late to finish packing, and got up early, to run over and say goodbye to folks. The snow melted quickly...but left an invigorating nip in the sun-streamed air. I was ready.
On the way to the airport (flying out of Washington, DC, so we drove up from Richmond, VA) what was striking were the number of things strewn in the road. I'd never seen so many in one trip! First, there were the bits of rubber that usually mean someone's tire has blown out on the highway. Then, we saw some bits of wood - wood that looked like it had been broken, with some ragged edges, and the possible occasional nail (yikes!). Then, all of a sudden, there looked to be someone's vacation wardrobe tossed all over the highway (quite an obstacle course, that - good safe driving steering us through, Dad!). We saw someone pulled over with a large load of luggage on their car a short distance further on... And, finally, just before our exit (a good thing! I was getting a little concerned) we were passing a big truck that made a bang/bump sound, and expelled more than a little grey dust of some kind...and there was a burned rubber smell. Whew.
So, I was very happy when we made it to lunch, and then the airport, without any mishap of our own! I said my goodbyes, and wrote my first postcard(!) of 365 (see postcard gallery), and boarded the plane... aaahh.
:-)
This morning I awoke to the first dusting of snow in Virginia (where I've been staying with family) that I've seen since arriving in early January. Pretty exciting... as I prepare myself to travel to the lands of winter rains. It has felt a bit surreal to finally be leaving, after preparing for so long.
I stayed up late to finish packing, and got up early, to run over and say goodbye to folks. The snow melted quickly...but left an invigorating nip in the sun-streamed air. I was ready.
On the way to the airport (flying out of Washington, DC, so we drove up from Richmond, VA) what was striking were the number of things strewn in the road. I'd never seen so many in one trip! First, there were the bits of rubber that usually mean someone's tire has blown out on the highway. Then, we saw some bits of wood - wood that looked like it had been broken, with some ragged edges, and the possible occasional nail (yikes!). Then, all of a sudden, there looked to be someone's vacation wardrobe tossed all over the highway (quite an obstacle course, that - good safe driving steering us through, Dad!). We saw someone pulled over with a large load of luggage on their car a short distance further on... And, finally, just before our exit (a good thing! I was getting a little concerned) we were passing a big truck that made a bang/bump sound, and expelled more than a little grey dust of some kind...and there was a burned rubber smell. Whew.
So, I was very happy when we made it to lunch, and then the airport, without any mishap of our own! I said my goodbyes, and wrote my first postcard(!) of 365 (see postcard gallery), and boarded the plane... aaahh.
:-)
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Why postcards?
Why choose to write a postcard a day for a year? Well, as I said, I want to keep the art of hand-written correspondence alive - but I have also always loved postcards. Sending them - and receiving them. My Mom had the most clear and tidy handwriting, and she could fit an entire letter about whatever trip it was onto a single postcard. She would usually send postcards that were educational or exemplary of the places they were visiting. My brothers and I have an ongoing tradition (although it's slowed in recent years) of sending each other the most ridiculous (cheesy) postcard we could find from any place we visited. A friend from college, who knew of this, would try to outdo them - and sent me some of the best bad/strange postcards I've ever seen from her travels in Africa and Italy ('St. Catherine's Head in a Box' was a memorable one...).
What's fun about a postcard, too, is that it's kind of like poetry. You have limited space, and have to try to distill what you would want to say down into fewer lines. And the postage is cheaper (typically - and if things haven't changed since I was a more prolific postcard writer!) than letters. I have always picked up postcards where I go... some are just beautiful images, that you could put in a frame, or pin up on a board...and some have reminded me of good times and places that I've loved. Many make me laugh, or smile. A postcard says 'I'm thinking about you' - and has traveled some distance to deliver it's sentiment; it is a kind of snapshot that you get to hold in your hand.
I used to be a really good, consistent correspondent - I unearthed a box full of letters that my friends and I wrote to each other in the 80's when we were in high school, and starting college. It was a big part of our friendship, and we became closer through the things we shared in those letters. I have always felt that what you say in a hand-written letter, or even a postcard - is different than what you write in an email. More of your true sentiment, more of yourself, is present. It is personal and evocative - it has a kind of presence and soul that email lacks. I can't help but wonder what kind of a difference it makes to today's teenagers and college students, that they do not write letters, but email and text instead?
Because I have always been so excited to receive postcards, I decided that one way to receive more could be to follow through on my good intention to write them more myself!...and I know myself well enough to know that if I make it a daily ritual, a promise to myself, in this way - that is the best way to make it happen.
As sustainable living is becoming something I'm more and more interested in - I can't help but wonder what kind of environmental impact international mail services have? It seems a good question to ask - and one that could unearth some enlightening information.
So - long live the hand-written postcard! And long live our ability to connect to each other in meaningful ways...
What's fun about a postcard, too, is that it's kind of like poetry. You have limited space, and have to try to distill what you would want to say down into fewer lines. And the postage is cheaper (typically - and if things haven't changed since I was a more prolific postcard writer!) than letters. I have always picked up postcards where I go... some are just beautiful images, that you could put in a frame, or pin up on a board...and some have reminded me of good times and places that I've loved. Many make me laugh, or smile. A postcard says 'I'm thinking about you' - and has traveled some distance to deliver it's sentiment; it is a kind of snapshot that you get to hold in your hand.
I used to be a really good, consistent correspondent - I unearthed a box full of letters that my friends and I wrote to each other in the 80's when we were in high school, and starting college. It was a big part of our friendship, and we became closer through the things we shared in those letters. I have always felt that what you say in a hand-written letter, or even a postcard - is different than what you write in an email. More of your true sentiment, more of yourself, is present. It is personal and evocative - it has a kind of presence and soul that email lacks. I can't help but wonder what kind of a difference it makes to today's teenagers and college students, that they do not write letters, but email and text instead?
Because I have always been so excited to receive postcards, I decided that one way to receive more could be to follow through on my good intention to write them more myself!...and I know myself well enough to know that if I make it a daily ritual, a promise to myself, in this way - that is the best way to make it happen.
As sustainable living is becoming something I'm more and more interested in - I can't help but wonder what kind of environmental impact international mail services have? It seems a good question to ask - and one that could unearth some enlightening information.
So - long live the hand-written postcard! And long live our ability to connect to each other in meaningful ways...
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Something creative...every day
I want to mention something 'cross-pollinating'-ly fantastic that an old friend in Richmond, VA (and beyond) is doing, and promoting. His name is Noah Scalin, and he is the founder and director of a socially-conscious design firm, ALR. Noah started a personal daily creative project back in 2007: making an artistic skull every day for a year - the 'Skull-A-Day' project. What happened next was remarkable - leading to a great interactive following online, a Webby Award, a book, and even such crazy things as a spot on Martha Stewart's t.v. show! As he has talked to other people who have done their own daily projects for a year, too, he realized how important and transformative connecting to your creativity, every day, can be.
This eventually led to his next big project, a book designed to guide people through their own daily/regular project. The book (and blog - where you can submit what daily creative project you are working on, and see what others are doing) is called 365: A Daily Creativity Journal. The book is designed to be used, and to give inspiration.
It has already inspired my artistic and creative sister-in-law, Heidi Rugg, founder and Director of Barefoot Puppets (and writer of a blog herself), to start her own daily project: a puppet-a-day! It will start on Thursday - you can follow it here.
She has also called to my attention a related article (mentioned and linked to on her blog), that points to a disturbing trend in America - it appears that creativity in American children is on the decline. And this at a time when we are going to need to be perhaps more creative than ever, to face the challenges of peak oil and climate change; according to the research cited in the article, creativity is a bigger indicator of success than IQ. (Heidi suggests we all start to make puppets! And become puppeteers!)
Reading Noah's book (and this article) has encouraged me to be more dedicated to this project (doing it, not just conceptualizing...!), and to think about what other (purely fun!) creative things I could do every day for a year. I have an extensive post card collection, a love of receiving and sending 'snail mail' - and a desire to keep the dying art of hand-written correspondence alive.
Does anyone want a postcard? Please post a comment and let me know if so - I'll write to get your address (if I don't have it already) and put you on the list! Who will be first?
Happy creating, everybody! (And remember - it's important, not just fun! Spread the word!)
This eventually led to his next big project, a book designed to guide people through their own daily/regular project. The book (and blog - where you can submit what daily creative project you are working on, and see what others are doing) is called 365: A Daily Creativity Journal. The book is designed to be used, and to give inspiration.
It has already inspired my artistic and creative sister-in-law, Heidi Rugg, founder and Director of Barefoot Puppets (and writer of a blog herself), to start her own daily project: a puppet-a-day! It will start on Thursday - you can follow it here.
She has also called to my attention a related article (mentioned and linked to on her blog), that points to a disturbing trend in America - it appears that creativity in American children is on the decline. And this at a time when we are going to need to be perhaps more creative than ever, to face the challenges of peak oil and climate change; according to the research cited in the article, creativity is a bigger indicator of success than IQ. (Heidi suggests we all start to make puppets! And become puppeteers!)
Reading Noah's book (and this article) has encouraged me to be more dedicated to this project (doing it, not just conceptualizing...!), and to think about what other (purely fun!) creative things I could do every day for a year. I have an extensive post card collection, a love of receiving and sending 'snail mail' - and a desire to keep the dying art of hand-written correspondence alive.
Does anyone want a postcard? Please post a comment and let me know if so - I'll write to get your address (if I don't have it already) and put you on the list! Who will be first?
Happy creating, everybody! (And remember - it's important, not just fun! Spread the word!)
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Preparing for the next adventure...
When I left my job before heading to Costa Rica, I was dreaming of doing the WWOOF exchange - in France! Since I have become so interested in gardening and sustainable urban living, and love France (I was a French major, speak it pretty well - and have many fond memories of times spent there; studying, volunteering, working, traveling), it seemed a great way to get some more experience growing things, have my own intercultural experience (what I am trained in helping others to navigate), and to practice my French and learn some new and useful vocabulary.
France is also a place where people are passionate about what they do, and how they live their lives. I have no doubt that I will meet people who are really inspired to be living in a way that is not only gentle to the earth and the creatures that inhabit it - but very much in tune with the natural world, too. It should be a time filled with vitality and richness of experience; of true exchange (of different kinds).
I'm going to try to keep my costs down as much possible, and may even blog about that (any interest out there?). To start with, I have a free round-trip ticket on Virgin Atlantic (thanks to voluntary delay in trip across 'the Pond' in 2009!) that I must use by April 8th. So, my departure is set for February 10th from a Washington, DC airport. I have to fly direct and non-stop, so I'll go to London (where I have some friends and family), then go on to France from there.
There are some friends that I have made over the years, and friends of my family, too, that I hope to visit along the way in France. I am in the process of figuring out which farm (or 2?) where I will stay as a WWOOF participant - but I know that it will be in the area known as the 'Gard'. This is home to Nîmes, Montpellier, the 'Pont du Gard', Camargue, and the Cévennes National Park that I have always wanted to visit. I love the south of France, and have loved what little I've seen of this particular area. It is also traversed by some of the old Pilgrimage route to Spain, and contains Cathare history (where Mary Magdalene is said to have settled).
I forget sometimes, having so much to do to get ready, that I am excited! And don't want to forget to write... I will let everyone know that I'm posting again. Please tell me what you all want to hear about, and that will help me to keep it up!
Allez...! (Let's go!)
France is also a place where people are passionate about what they do, and how they live their lives. I have no doubt that I will meet people who are really inspired to be living in a way that is not only gentle to the earth and the creatures that inhabit it - but very much in tune with the natural world, too. It should be a time filled with vitality and richness of experience; of true exchange (of different kinds).
I'm going to try to keep my costs down as much possible, and may even blog about that (any interest out there?). To start with, I have a free round-trip ticket on Virgin Atlantic (thanks to voluntary delay in trip across 'the Pond' in 2009!) that I must use by April 8th. So, my departure is set for February 10th from a Washington, DC airport. I have to fly direct and non-stop, so I'll go to London (where I have some friends and family), then go on to France from there.
There are some friends that I have made over the years, and friends of my family, too, that I hope to visit along the way in France. I am in the process of figuring out which farm (or 2?) where I will stay as a WWOOF participant - but I know that it will be in the area known as the 'Gard'. This is home to Nîmes, Montpellier, the 'Pont du Gard', Camargue, and the Cévennes National Park that I have always wanted to visit. I love the south of France, and have loved what little I've seen of this particular area. It is also traversed by some of the old Pilgrimage route to Spain, and contains Cathare history (where Mary Magdalene is said to have settled).
I forget sometimes, having so much to do to get ready, that I am excited! And don't want to forget to write... I will let everyone know that I'm posting again. Please tell me what you all want to hear about, and that will help me to keep it up!
Allez...! (Let's go!)
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Message In A Bottle
On Friday, December 17th, 2010 at approximately 7:20pm, a poem I wrote was titled, signed, contact info/blog link given, safely sealed into a bottle - and tossed into the waves off of Plum Island, MA, USA. You can read the poem here. [I intend to create another site with a link here - and that may come soon - but it has proven problematic, and I wanted to get this up as soon as possible(!). Meanwhile, try to read it in the picture I've posted].
Since my apartment has been sold, I have been saying goodbye (or at least - see you later!) to places and people that have become a part of my Boston area home for the last few years. It's funny how places come to mean something sometimes... almost like characters, in their own right, in your story. Boston has been full of some places like that for me. My old neighborhood, Allston/Brighton, has a quirky kind of edgy, creative, culturally diverse grit to it. And now, a garden carved out of gravel that feels like a tough, if also somewhat fragile, friend.
Plum Island, on the North Shore of Massachusetts, has been one of those places for me, and was someplace I felt I wanted to say goodbye to. I have known it best in the winter and very early spring, as a snow-covered, cold-blasted, wind-tossed magical moonscape. It has been synonymous in my mind with one person, the first person with whom I ever visited it. I wanted to honor that connection, and create a ritual that would also be about transforming that into something more...universal. Where does this fit into my blog? Well, it's a poem... and a kind of scattering of art and purpose. And, hopefully, something that will find its way to a connection to someone else's story.
This idea started as a personal goodbye ritual, and then transformed itself into a fun kind of experiment, as well. As often happens to things that spring from inside you, and you turn over to the world and others, to have a life of their own. I look forward to seeing where this bottle has ended up; maybe just down the coast a mile or two - or maybe somewhere far away? Hopefully with a good story, either way. I hope that whoever finds it actually looks up this blog online - and that we hear from them. What fun to be reminded in that way, that as far apart as we might be geographically, the world is still not so small a place, and we are still connected to, and by, the natural world. In all its wind-blown, water-washed and tumbled wonder.
[Author's note: I am going to start filling in the gap between my Costa Rica trip, and the here and now; realizing that I was in danger of losing my momentum altogether, I decided that the best way to proceed would be to begin doing both. A little about reflection, a little living in the now. This last year, it seems to me, has helped me to embrace transition and uncertainty as more of a constant in my life, seeing where life leads me - and also about documenting that experience for others. Somehow that last piece feels like a big part of its meaning... and I can't see where this is going if it's not going at all! So, bear with me readers (whoever you are), and - bring on the nomadic life! I'm feeling as prepared as I'll ever be...and hoping that sharing these stories may prove useful and enjoyable to some of you out there.]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)