Spontaneity

Yesterday at Tuesday Market I had more fun than usual. I had more sales than usual too, and those two things might have been related. Customers definitely like it to be fun, vendors do, and of course the people-watchers really do.

The best fun was brought by that iconic (he said so) troubador, Rich Glauber. He has formed the habit of stopping by my booth at Market to sing a few songs with me, not a planned thing, just what happens sometimes. Occasionally he comes without his guitar to check the mood, and he does come without his guitar regularly, as I am one of his stops at the Market. You know how it is when you want to connect with someone you know, not just wander aimlessly amid people you kind of know, or have seen before anyway. So he visits me.

I wouldn't say we know each other intimately, but we have an easy friendship, read each other's blogs, and have known each other a long time through the Radar Angels. I'm not one of the performing angels, I always say, but Rich has this special quality that he carries with him wherever he goes. He is a catalyst for music.

He sings with kids, he sings with old folks, he sings with anyone who likes to sing, and he is super good at setting everything up so people enjoy themselves, loosen up, and remember lyrics they haven't accessed for decades. I suppose I am in the category of kid-like old folk, and the songs he chooses for me are usually old standards, like "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" (the tomato-tomatoh one) and "Oh What a Beautiful Morning," songs I learned in chorus or from my parents or at family reunions.

My Mom is a singer, as is her whole family, and we sang all the time as kids. We sang when we were cleaning up the kitchen, in the car, on the boat, up in the trees. I used to climb the clothes pole and channel Peter Pan. ("I've gotta crow..."). I have three sisters, and we used to get wonderful harmonies, though not very strictly. My voice is second soprano or something, alto, I don't know. It's a bit low and I don't have a broad range, and I'm not very disciplined about it. I do love to sing, though, and Rich figured that out.

The first time I performed with him was just on percussion during one of his shows at Family School. All of the kids were astonished to see that side of me, and that Rich called me McD was a crackup for them. I am kind of inhibited in front of a real audience, but when no one is watching, I can enjoy myself a lot.

So Rich comes by, he transposes everything into my range, and he comes up with wonderfully obscure songs and leads me through them. I get about half of it usually, out of my memory. Yesterday we did Heart and Soul (I only know it on piano, apparently), Glory of Love, You Make Me Feel So Young, and Dancing Cheek to Cheek, which I have almost learned now.

The most precious moments for me were at the start, when he launched into "Let's Fall in Love." We were standing in the empty space next to my booth at the Tuesday Market, with no one around but my fellow vendors, and we got pretty cute. We were sort of flirty, smiley, joyful. I suppose it could have been imagined that we were falling in love, but we were just playing around. I felt young and cute and really comfortable and happy, so I sang out.

I'm pretty sure Rich and I aren't falling in love, just to be clear, but we are liking this game a lot. He's very sensitive to my sales and customers, even joking them up some if it seems like a good idea. When we are forced into too small a space it sometimes gets in the way of commerce, but on Tuesday, sitting on the bench or walking around in little circles in the dappled shade of the trees, it was perfect. When I don't have an audience I am perfectly happy to be on stage.

I'm a solitary person, as you might have noticed, and I don't have a lot of intimacy in my life, but this level of it, with him being the encouraging mentor that he is, letting me feel just special enough, is really nice. I am going to miss him when he goes to Thailand for four months. Hopefully it will be during the Market off season so we won't lose this little practice of ours.

I don't think it will develop into a performing career or anything like my writing opportunity, but this musical opportunity is so sweet. I like it just the way it is. I like not counting on it on any particular day, not evaluating it on any critical scale, not working very hard at it (though I am going to learn some songs). It's just a regular type of life experience that friends have all the time, making music together, never getting quite enough of it, never wanting it to end. Very special.

Rich is a one-of-a-kind. He's invented himself and cobbled together a living encouraging other people to enjoy music and let themselves participate. He gives permission. He fits right into my culture down at the Market. In fact, he and I are doing this because the Market exists. We probably wouldn't have found the opportunity without our community gathering place. Cool. Guess this will go in the book too. Thanks a million, Rich, thank you very much.

And P.S: Mike Wilhelm, who often comments on my posts, is a similar musician in that he can encourage anyone to sing with him and he can make them sound good. He's the first person I sang at Market with, a few years ago on a quiet Saturday in October. He plays in The Buntles, and Cello Bella among other activities.

Kerfluffle

My new sidewalk extension is wonderful. Thanks John and Kat! See, I can turn the trailer around and wheel it wherever I want.

Plus I weighed the entire amount of Jell-O Art I take, and it's about fifteen pounds. Makes quite an impact for that weight. Of course the shelf it displays on weighs nine pounds just for the board, etc., etc., but it is still relatively weightless.

Still ridiculously excited about the essay, though taking it to Market was illuminating. When sharing it with the real human people I talked about, I quickly realized I could have done better at showing them in their best light. Every word mattered, and I hadn't been very careful with the beginning.

So I rewrote it and quite unprofessionally sent in one last edit. I guess I just have to swallow my embarrassment at being such an amateur and learn this stuff, either the hard way or some other way. I will apply myself to reading up on the expectations when one does this sort of thing. It's way different from just taking things to my writing group, and I'm old enoughto be smarter.
Not that those two things are related.

Writing good nonfiction is a big responsibility, and I want to do it right. Offending my neighbors and contemporaries is foolish and can mostly be avoided. Only a couple of people raised objections and I think they were right in their observations. One fellow writer helped with a couple of things I had overlooked, just sentence structure and clarification which were spot on. Most people were too polite to point out the inadequacies.

But thankfully I noticed some of them immediately. It's one thing to write my little blog that gets read by a couple dozen people and quite another to put something out into the big big world. What I say about myself is my problem, but what I say about others is my responsibility. Even though the essay is not about them, I owe them the level of friendship and loyalty I expect from them, at the very least. Anyway, fixed, but not without a night of anxiety.

I am gonna have to find a way to deal with more anxiety in my life. Quite likely I will launch into writing books about both the Market and my Jell-O Art community and experience, plus I would love to polish up some of my fiction and get it out there. I guess the anxiety is the real reason I have avoided the writing spotlight, not that it has ever hovered very close to my position on the stage before.

I have gotten better at recognizing the altered state I call the narcissistic souffle. I get so caught up in it sometimes, I lose all perspective and forget that I am only the star of the movie running in my own head. Having a strong imagination can be turned against oneself too. So more calming work, exercise and housework and more journalling. And more self-care and quiet for recovery from these public days.

I think the essay shows how vulnerable a position it is to be standing in the park each week. That's kind of the point. Just pretending I am not vulnerable isn't going to work, I'm going to have to cultivate more self protection in active ways, not just staying home and being quiet. I will say things to myself, like "this is not about you" and "just don't say anything for a minute." I will think more before speaking up. I will edit and edit and ask people for input and edit.

At least I forced myself to figure out gimp and convert some pictures to greyscale. That was a good and easy skill to pick up. I will put myself on a dedicated course of action to increase skills in an area I have just been playing around in. I will be serious about it.

Tomorrow. Today I need a day off, to get some painting done before it rains. Which is more scary, my imagined debut as a writer, or the very real winter that is approaching? I hate to be cold and wet.

Love My Kids!

My essay was chosen for the anthology! An actual book! It will be published this winter by Serving House Press and is called Winter Tales: Women Write About Aging. I am overly thrilled and of course at the same time terrified that I will be exposed and what?

Laughed at? Things don't usually work out the way I fear they will. Everyone I told about it was thrilled for me and said nice things that somehow I heard as if they had never been said before. Maybe this will help me work on my confidence level. This will be my first real publication, so I won't be able to keep myself in the "unappreciated and unseen" box I like to put myself in.

Self-sabotage, the easiest fall-back position. Self promotion seems so easy, but brings all the fears of overdoing it, or sounding obsessive. Dither dither lalala. Quit it.

My son and his partner Kat have been here for a few days working on various projects. We extended the sidewalk project around the corner, which really needed to happen. They worked together famously. It was good to hear them trade ideas and ask for confirmation, negotiate for agreement. I doubt I taught him much of that, but they are good at it. I'm proud of them.

Got a picture with John's dad, Mike, who took them out for sushi. He will be moving to Ecuador soon and that will be weird. I'm used to seeing him about once a week or so and asking him about technical issues. He will be building a health services resort there so stay tuned. You might need a hip replacement or something someday. I'm waiting for them to build the bathrooms before I go.

They're off to Crater Lake today and I won't see them for another month, so I'll get in some last conversations now. Talk to ya later.

Too many things at once

I skipped Kim's etsy workshop last week because this website building takes a lot of time. Just photographing things is a chore...I'm getting better at it though. At least I know how to manipulate the photos a little finally.

The Facebook page was a good idea but I'm spreading the sauce too thin. Now when I make a new Jell-O piece I have three or four places to post the pics, after I remember to take them. I had to iron all the scarves and then take two sets of photos; the first ones were too bright. I didn't even haul out the other scarves but I'll have to do that too. The Weebly site is taking shape, but I have a long way to go to be really online in a functional way.

I'm having a hard time deciding what to put up for sale, since it means I have to have some steady supply of them, at least it means that to me since I don't want to put up things that will soon disappear. Probably etsy would be great for that but I just can't add one more variable right now. My shirt stock is getting spotty and I have to build up a few things for HM, even though it seems early for that. It all adds up to overwhelm.

My son and his gf are coming down for a friend's wedding, and they want to work for money, so I will have some help getting things tied down for winter around the place. I have painting to do, work on the sidewalk still, and lots of projects I've considered but don't have the energy to launch. One of the houses needs a new roof pretty soon, thanks to that raccoon that tore it up. I don't think the patches I put on will leak, this winter anyway, but they will at some point, because roofs leak. Skylights too.

Everything breaks down, and having two houses means something needs fixing all the time. Just remembered one thing is my vacuum cleaner. Guess I had better do that one first. With every project I think "I'll save that for John, he'd enjoy it." In past times he usually didn't even like the idea of my projects, but he is much more game to try now and I'll let him have the pick of the list. Some things are a lot more fun than others.

I'm hoping we will even do some of that famous "spring cleaning" that I never do in spring. Everything needs a good wash and wipe. I haven't really thoroughly cleaned in many years, and I used to be so judgmental about other people's housekeeping habits. Now I would like the surfaces to be clean, but I'm not very interested in making it happen. Oh well.

Need to work a little hiking or something in there too. I almost never vacate when the vacating is good. I got a little trip up and down the coast a couple of weeks ago and it had been maybe two years since I had gone. I know it was before my surgery in 2008. Pretty bad for such an amazing place that is only an hour away.

At least the wedding is out at the Fair site, so we can get in a little walk out there. It's always a pleasure.

And Market keeps me going week to week. What a great routine to sell twice a week. I really like being able to have clients meet me there to see what I have, or to drop off art or whatever. Convenient. And seeing friends is easy and casual there, except when it is too busy to visit.

Last week Rich came by and we had music again, getting to be a fun thing. Too bad his schedule usually means he comes right when buying is hot, if it is a buying day. I hope customers enjoy it, even if it means they have to wait a minute for the chorus to be over to exchange money. I know my neighbors on the Park Blocks enjoy it, or else those smiles just mean they're grinning to bear it. Willy even joined in on harp last week, on his birthday. That was a special moment indeed.

Board meeting tonight, oh boy. Have to get away from the keyboard and let my neck muscles relax for awhile. Yoga would be good, if I would have fixed the vacuum cleaner so I could get the cat hair off the rug where I would do the yoga. Maybe it will have magically fixed itself...I'll go check.

Small crises

Big hurricane. I lived through many hurricanes as a child whose family had a boat off the Chesapeake. Nothing like the evacuations and closures ever happened back then, so I was happy to not be there this time. I hope all my relatives there managed okay. People are so much more vulnerable now, with their flipflops and lives in cars and inability to protect themselves. It's a different time, that's for sure.

Still working hard on the essay. I know I am getting somewhere because every time I get to the end I start to cry. Just like I want my readers to do! Maybe.

It's hard making myself vulnerable, no wonder I try not to. I've often observed that we artisans do this over and over, every time we display our art to the public, every time we come to the Market with our hopes in hand. It doesn't really get easier, but it helps me to focus on how strong I am, not how weak. Nobody cares if I'm struggling, on an operational level. Of course people care, but that doesn't mean they want to engage in solutions for me. They have their own problems, and I'm not engaging in solutions for them.

We seem to get a lot more from others when we offer them the chance to engage in something fun and easy for them. That's one way the Jell-O art really works.

Eugene Celebration was a pretty toy and I'm glad it happens. Not being on the Parade route left us at the Market feeling very left out. It was such a highlight of the season in past years, and I sincerely hope it comes back next year. It's interesting, from the perspective of a neighboring business that operates every week doing much the same thing, to not view it as competition, but as enrichment. I did see lots of new people at Market and did okay, sales-wise, since sunny mornings practically guarantee hat sales for those who forgot how bright that old sun can be. (Works for me on rainy days too, yay.) Sold more bags than usual, maybe because people were going to be walking around all day carrying things. Everything went okay until the way home.

There simply was no legal, safe way for us human-powered vendors to exit the Park Blocks. We either had to go on sidewalks, the wrong way on one-way streets, or blocks and blocks out of our way on unknown routes. Elise and I teamed up and went through two alleys, down to Seventh, and on the sidewalk against oncoming traffic and pedestrians, practically screaming to avoid collision. I hadn't realized that I really can't push that load on foot any substantial distance. I kept ringing my bell and apologizing to those I drove off the sidewalk (nobody was really in any physical danger but me and Elise) and almost mowed down coming from the alley unexpectedly like that.

There are maybe twelve to fifteen of us with wagons, carts, and small wheels. It doesn't surprise me that no one thought of how we would navigate; we didn't really think of it ourselves. I did okay on 10th instead of Broadway on the way down in the morning, but that is now one-way between Olive and Charnelton and wouldn't work for the way west. I was not going on 11th or 6th, no way. I could have walked two blocks over to Pearl and ridden up to 12th, winding my way through that nasty bike path between Oak and Willamette, but that would have probably meant dumping my load on the tight turns and uneven paving, and no one wants to see me on Pearl. The traffic of people looking for parking on the outlying streets would have been difficult at best. It was traumatic.

We did survive, and I only lost one stick off the load that it wasn't worth the effort to recover. I have lots of sticks. Nobody gave us the finger, though Elise had a really hard time in the morning just trying to access the blocks. I had planned to insist that I needed to reach my workplace, but I didn't try to get through any barriers.

And speaking of barriers, one of the best parts of the day was when 8th street was liberated. A couple of people just moved the street closure signs that were not necessary. Our customers need to be able to get to our site, no matter what else is going on downtown. That is basic. People can't carry flats of produce and ceramic pots and whatnot for several blocks to their cars. And the free parking wasn't free, either.

But you have to love the Eugene Celebration, no matter what. It's good to promenade the streets, good to meet and greet, good for everyone to get a chance to show off what they do and like and support. I hope next year things will be a little easier. I will pass my concerns on to the mgmt. of the festival. I know they will do what they can to avoid problems.

And at the very least, it should put the question of street closure out of the realm of possibility for the farmers. It should, but who knows? Maybe they think we can have Eugene Celebration every week. We kind of do already. Thing is, we've worked out the solutions to how to make it work logistically, and so that everyone can also make money, something that doesn't really happen for us on that weekend. We really need the street to be open, to the free parking the city gives us, to the west and to the east and to the south and north. We have to make it easy for people to enjoy us, so we can enjoy them.

Celebrating

The gallery openings are tonight for the Salon and the Mayor's show. I'll go, and eavesdrop to see what people say about the jello. Maybe they will just think it is glass and criticize that pink piece on the side of the face that doesn't seem to fit so well. I'm sure they'll find things to criticize, as we all do because we think we're supposed to.

I never vote in those people's choice things though I'm glad that other people do. I don't like ranking one person's expression over another. I'm sure that comes from standing with 200 other artisans all trying for the same dollars. I don't want to admit that anyone is better than me, so I can''t be better than anyone else either. We're all us.

Writing this essay on women and aging is kicking me hard, as it should. I have a really hard time accessing my terror and fragility. I see that I have worked very diligently over the decades to keep it from bubbling up. Every morning when I fight the gathering anxiety in my belly I just get out of bed and start making breakfast and the rituals of my day. Lately I have been trying to let it flow over me, trying to feel it, and that does make it less frightening and more a normal emotion I can pass through.

But I do better if I keep it well under control, it seems. I try to keep so much under control. I suppose this is the human condition and we all try to find relatively healthy ways to do this. I'm thinking of the Steve Martin movie, Grand Canyon, when they describe their lives as a roller coaster and say you just have to ride. I don't know; maybe one more safety strap would be better.

In today's version of the essay I expound upon how vulnerable we make ourselves every time we sell, how terrifying this is, and how we are really just begging the customers to need our stuff. It doesn't look as desperate as it gets sometimes; we work hard at hiding our despair and how high our hopes get. Everything has to look normal, no pressure, no matter if you decide not to come back like you said you would, no matter if you spend your money on something else, something easier for you, something from Waldemort or wherever. You have your unexpressed needs, I have mine.

I don't want anyone to know how scared I get. It's like when someone is crying or puking it makes me want to cry or puke too. We all have to keep it together so we all can keep it together. I think that is why it is so horrifying to watch any kind of misfortune (and so compelling). We test ourselves against it. Would I survive that? Would I make that choice? What will I do when it is my turn?

I mean, the unspoken end of all of our essays and ponderings is our deaths. We will all end up there, and in a few months or years we will be mostly forgotten. The art I so delight in will be in the dump and I might last as a legend for a little while because of all my diligent output, but no matter how much art I make, it doesn't really help me to control what really scares me.

But the writing really does help. I just spent over two hours focused on articulating my terror and it didn't make it any worse. At least I remembered that everyone is right there with me.

Or if I can write really well they will be. If I can do everything right, choose the correct words and get that structure illuminated, they will go right with me down and then back out. Oh yeah, I have to bring them back out. Better go work on it some more.

Must be Sunday

Gaming the system, I've done it. Not that long ago. It's always a temptation to those of us who tend to think divergently...rules are made to be broken, better to ask forgiveness than permission, etc. etc. Iconoclasts.

The essence is pretty much I know what I need, and I am compelled to get it. Generally I am able to rationalize it: no one is being hurt, I'm such a good and honest person, it really won't matter. You probably have a similar list of rationalizations and excuses when you go after something that gives you a little glimmer of uneasiness...stuff it.

I'm not saying I will never do it again, but I saw what it looked like from the outside yesterday and a beam of light smote me and showed me something I had been ignoring. It really does matter, not on the small scale, but on the bigger ones. On many levels.

As Beth said in her editorial a couple of weeks ago, when you step outside the rules for your own ease, you are really saying you think you are more important than the next person. I know most of us do think this about ourselves, at least on some levels, and our culture certainly tells us that if we don't get it for ourselves, we won't get enough, or what we need, or anything at all.

But in a community situation, giving is a much more effective technique for having all the needs met than taking is. Giving is just an all around better technique for getting one's own needs met, and can certainly be followed by receiving...but the giving comes first.

If I thought that I had fully learned this, I would say it took me all of these 61 years, but I'm thinking I haven't fully learned this at all. I'm still selfish and greedy way more of the time than I wish I were. It comes from a sense of deprivation that comes from all of the abundance and generosity of the world around me, the sense that somehow it is going to run out, that I won't get my share, and I especially won't get it unless I am at the front of the line.

I'm kind of talking about the booth allocation system at the Market. It's a system that is complex and worked out over decades with fairness and equality in mind. It's a tough system to "win", but it does reward persistence and hard work, and it functions just fine for the people in the back of the line too, if everyone plays fair.

When I gamed it, I was at the front of the line. I actually was trading down my booth space with someone else, because I was so focused on a particular space that was so perfect for me, it became my reason for success. If I got that space, I had a great day. If I could only be in that space, my life was in place, I would maximize my Market Day, I would rise to the top earning level, I would win the big prize in the sky. Control fantasies.

Only I did feel that glimmer of unease, and my rationalizations left out quite a few of the aspects of Market that I treasure, the high level of honor and honesty, the trust, the equality, the care with which the many systems were developed. I told myself it was okay, that no one was hurt by it, that there wasn't a rule against it, that it made the Market better because it made my experience better.

Big fail. When I remembered that little shortlived game yesterday I felt shame and regret. Even I, who thinks of myself as one of the most supportive, longlasting, and dedicated Market members, even I got selfish and thought only of my own needs and how I could get them filled. I thought if I did it quietly no one would even notice.

Surprise. Nothing I do at Market is unobserved. If I even pick my nose, someone sees it. Someone knows that one person in the Marketplace is unaware of the public expectation of good grooming. Some customer is grossed out and someones sales are lost or postponed. Someone has to pay.

Not only does it take a village, but we are about as small scale as it gets. If you wouldn't live in a small town because everyone knows your intimate details, well, wake up, you're in one. Not only do we gossip and judge, we also observe for our own improvement, for trends, for novelty, for entertainment, and to learn. We observe. We talk. We are in it together.

So here is my public apology for trying to win something I did not deserve, because my actions were selfish and thoughtless. I took from the Market without its permission. I'm sorry. I apologize to all of the hundreds of people who patiently waited their turns and did things the way they were asked to, without thinking of ways around the rules, or ways they could skip steps and get what they wanted with less effort.

I was wrong. I hope I never do that again. I will try hard to be more consistent with my values. I will try hard to do my part to stem the trends of selfishness and greed that so shock all of us on the national and world level. I will do my best to model right action, to be honorable in every way I can. I hope that in doing this I will inspire others, or at least not encourage others to be selfish. I see that I put more pressure on others to get theirs, since I was so diligently making sure I got mine.

I was joking with someone yesterday that if I tried to sell at Market when I was high on something, I would just give everything away. I think it goes against my natural tendencies to sell things, particularly to sell them for a top price, to take someone's money for something I enjoyed making and already got the value of by taking pride in my accomplishment and the process. The more I enjoyed the process, the less I enjoy putting a monetary value on it and taking someone's cash. I really am not motivated by money, except that I need it for other things, the bills, etc. I have to force myself to earn it, when really I would rather just have a big free pile and count the denominations of joy and delight. I would love to just continue to create things, immerse in their beauty and release them to the universe to live their own lives for others.

But I live in the material world and it is in the Marketplace where I compromise my wishes, allow people to reduce my joys to a monetary exchange for my benefit, and try hard to be grateful and pleased with their generosity and not ask for more than they can give, more than they are willing to grant me.

I extend that to all my fellow beings. I will not take what is yours, what I do not have a right to, what I have not earned. That is just basic.

I'm embarrassed that I need so many reminders to keep my internal two-year-old within bounds. I'm thoroughly grateful to my friend Pamela, who knows right action inside and out, and to Beth, for continually pointing out refinements to my approach, by example, by discussion, by sharing another perspective, and by their gentle encouragement.

We all need gentle encouragement, and the opportunity to redeem ourselves when we trip up.

Next step is forgiveness, and my challenge as always is to extend the forgiveness to myself. It's easier to forgive others. I think there is latent catholicism there, those old black sins on my soul that I put there because someone told me I was bad. No one even has to tell me, I've gotten good at beating myself down.

But I can be just as good at building myself up, if I'm observant, and keep asking myself the right questions. Keep watching for that glimmer of discontent, that internal checklist. Is this really right? Is it honest to the core? If not, can I step back a minute and see if there are any other options?

There usually are. Sometimes I can't have what I want. I generally do get what I need. I can probably relax and accept that when I really need help or a special dispensation, I am way more likely to get it if I have done the giving first, if there is some level on which I truly deserve the "points".

I've sat in on a lot of meetings in the past few years. I have a keen internal sense of what feels right and what is unfair. I can clearly see that what you don't think clearly about, what you drive to accomplish without being fair, will come back to bite you for years. A lifetime perhaps.

Just be honest. I remember when my son was in those fractious teenage years and we needed to start over to get a working relationship established. I could only think of one rule that I could insist on: that we both had to be totally honest with each other.

It was really hard. I had to stop hiding it when I had a beer. I had to tell him about the ins and outs of a cash economy and ways to do things in the big world that seemed contradictory to how everyone was doing it. I had to reveal a lot of things to myself that I had been conveniently glossing over to maintain my life.

It was also liberating, and it led both of us to common ground and a better way to relate to everyone in our lives. I thought of myself as an honest person before that, but it improved my consistency in subtle and lovely ways.

I'm certainly still on the path of trying to do it, not always succeeding. But it is definitely the right path, and you know it. We all know it. If it feels good...