Gaia Luna Video Tour: January Thaw

Gem the cat and I would like you to join us on our first ever video tour of Gaia Luna Garden.

We've chosen a pleasant day during our January thaw to make for easy walking.  You'll see where we're starting the year. And in future videos you'll be able to watch how it grows.

Even in this cold time of long darknesses, we know we've turned the corner of the seasons, and we're heading back toward Spring!

(c)2013 Kay Pere ~ Effusive Muse Publishing

THREE PROJECTS: Laying the Groundwork

About a month ago, I found myself at a crossroads.

The people attending our songwriting retreat back in March asked me where they could find recordings of the songs I’d sung for them and when my Creative Compass book would be available for purchase. I realized that I needed to find an answer for myself to the same question they'd asked over and over during our workshops: “How do I find time in my busy schedule for my songwriting?” (or writing a book, or learning to paint, or starting a band, or building a website, or planting a garden, or exercising…)

Their questions and interest motivated me to search for a workable answer.

Right in the middle of one of the busiest periods I’ve been through in many years—six weeks straight teaching lessons, performing concerts, presenting at conferences and retreats, selling pottery at shows, and hosting family gatherings, all without a single day off—I knew I was overdue for a change. I hoped to find a solution that would work for me, while offering tools and ideas that others could adapt to their own lives.

My creative work is piled up like a logjam in side me. It’s fully realized but not in a form that exists without my physical presence. If I’m not on hand to perform the songs, present the workshops, or sell my pottery on the spot they might as well not exist.

A month ago, on Monday, March 29, 2010 I began by making conscious effort to change comfortable old habits that were obviously stealing time and energy. I needed to remove the virtual drug that had been lulling me into complacency about the work I really wanted to be doing.

I’ve waited this long to post this because I didn’t want to try out these changes in public, only to fall back into old habits and have to confess to my backsliding just as publicly.

Four weeks into this change I feel much more comfortable passing along the specific things that have allowed me to start making tangible progress again toward three creative goals that had previously languished for months, even years, until now:

• Recording my "Dolphin's Daughters" CD project
• Writing my "Creative Compass" book
• Spending time making pottery for the joy of it (and to sell online and at artisan shows)

The change has come primarily by reclaiming time dissipated online, time I was numb to having wasted each day. And a change in attitude.

COMPUTER CAPACITY

Recording a CD and writing a book are computer intensive activities. Though my capacity for being glued to a computer screen for hours on end is fairly high, there’s still a limit to how much time I can put in each day, both in terms of endurance and availability. Wasting capacity on mindless internet exploration leaves little for recording a CD or writing a book.

In other words, I can only sit at my desk for so many hours straight before I my backside begins to hurt and I'm overpowered by an urge to run out front door into the sunshine shouting, "I'm free! I'm free!"

I realized that the time I was spending online reading news stories and blogs, skimming Facebook status updates, and watching funny videos must have been meeting some need otherwise I wouldn’t be doing it. What I had to figure out was what purpose they were serving so I could find a more satisfying way to meet those needs and free up my computer capacity for work on my projects.

The conclusion I drew was that time online was serving as a poor substitute for real world random exploration and discovery, enrichment, entertainment, and personal connection with others. If I could make a place for more of these things away from the computer screen, then the changes wouldn’t feel so much like deprivation during the crucial early stages.

TIMER FOR A CHANGE

Four weeks ago I set out first to quantify the minutes and hours slipping past in mindlessly screen staring while I read Facebook status updates and browsed internet news, caught up on artists’ and eco blogs, searched for recipes, listened to music or watched the latest viral Youtube video.

I set a digital timer counting as soon as I went online that first day. I needed cumulative total. Each time I went off to do something goal related or respond to a client email I stopped it. As soon as I returned to the internet in an unfocused way I started it again.

At the end of the first day, I was astounded by what the timer showed. And too embarrassed now tell you what it said, though you can read the fine print in the picture of my journal, below. Had I really squandered the entire morning after breakfast morning, and several wedges of precious time between teaching lessons, then another hour just before bed on that first day? Talking with other people, I soon realized that I wasn't alone, only difference was the time of day I was going online, morning vs. evening for most people.

For the next two days, I continued tracking my time online without changing habits. I had to convince myself of the magnitude of the problem. Was this really the way I'd been living? I made little chart and totaled up different kinds of internet use for several days.

Each day yielded the same results: several hours irretrievably lost with nothing to show for them but a nondescript sensation that I had done something vaguely useful.

How had I become delusional enough to sincerely believe that the majority of my internet time was being used for writing and responding to business correspondence or goal related reading, writing, watching, and listening online? The hard data I’d collected on myself showed a completely different story.

Fully convinced by the middle of that first week, I switched the timer from stopwatch to countdown mode, allotting myself only 1 hour, total, each day for online entertainment and curiosity.

My previous pattern had been to check email, read news, and browse Facebook over a bowl of generic cheerios or oatmeal, then loose track of time until mid-morning or even lunch time if I got up late. I work for myself teaching voice and piano to student scheduled to arrive afternoon through evening. I rationalized that my morning was the equivalent of everyone else’s evening, when other people relax and blew off steam after a hard day of work. This sort of daily schedule would be fine, except that there are other things I want to be doing.

The change felt more than a little awkward at first. I went through withdrawals on Thursday and Friday of that first week. It was like giving up a drug. Symptoms included a nagging sensation that something important was missing, restlessness, and irritability followed by the intense urge to return to my old ways.

More than a few of times, as I worked on other things at the computer, I lost focus and mindlessly clicked on the browser icon only to return to awareness 10-15 minutes later while skimming news headlines and articles on yahoo.com, or browsing friends and family members status updates on Facebook.

So I started rationing the hour in 15-20 minute increments throughout the day, using it to take breaks from other work. When the time ran out I planned to shut down the browser and return to other activities, but on several occasions the time expired, the timer beeped, and many minutes went by before I returned to awareness.

The next morning unplugged the Ethernet cable before powering on the computer. I didn’t plug it back in until lunchtime and got a lot more done.

BALANCING FOCUS & RANDOMNESS

I could see that if I simply reined in my old habits, while offered nothing as a replacement to meet the needs they were fulfilling, this experiment would fail. If I planned to impose additional structure on an already busy schedule, I would need to offer myself some other form of release of the sort that inspires rather than numbs.

The next step was to begin replacing cyber randomness with real world spontaneous exploration and online social networking with face-to-face interaction.

To fill the need for random, spontaneous exploration, that first week I started taking my new digital camera out for a walks capturing anything and everything that caught my eye.

I spent sunny hours working in the garden for fun, allowing myself to be drawn by whichever task called to me next—picking up leaves, digging holes to transplant rhubarb, picking pieces of antique pottery from the sandy soil like an archeologist, pruning the blueberry bushes.

I spent quiet moments sitting on the grass in the sunshine watching a pair of crows circle high over bare branched early spring woods.

Or by the sea as cloud shadows, wind ripples, and lobster boats pass.

I’ve browsed through the local public library, picking books off of shelves and bringing home CDs to discover new ideas and new music. Sometimes I’ve stayed to write there in a big comfortable chair for a change of scenery.

For human connection, I’ve been more open to conversation with people I encounter when I’m out in the community, choosing activities that will give me opportunities for interaction. It’s amazing what listening and thoughtful sharing will open in another, and in yourself.

This past weekend I struck up a conversation with a woman outside of the hardware store. We’d come out of the store a the same time and I’d noticed that she had a pick-up truck full of bamboo plants. I asked where she’d gotten them, then whether she was selling them, and eventually arrangements to get some for our yard. Not only that but learned a little about her family’s farm, it’s history, and why they're having to sell it. It’s a place I’ve driven by nearly every day and admired, lamenting the 55 acres that will soon be opened to development just a half-mile from our home.

Unlike the hours squandered on the internet, random explorations in the real world and time reclaimed for projects yielded memorable, tangible results.

The vividness of hours spent walking around town with a camera—capturing the shapes, colors and textures of ordinary objects—lingers even a week-and-a-half later. As does the satisfaction I feel each time I look back at those images. The experience of that day is burned into the retina of my heart.

THE PAYOFF

My projects have progressed and I’m feeling more alive!

The payoff can be found in small, tangible accomplishments and memorable experiences. These have replaced the emptiness I felt during the first few days after changing my old routine.

No, the CD is not recorded, not in four weeks, nor will it be finished in the next month or even two, but I now know exactly what I’ve already accomplished and what needs to be done next to keep things moving forward.

A unified awareness of accomplishments and next steps was difficult to holding in my mind before, when the virtual world ruled my attention.

I began a new pottery vessel titled Carpe Diem, which can be seen here, among other things. The scraps from forming this will become labyrinth necklaces to add to my Sacred Shards inventory.

And the Creative Compass book?

I’ve begun again to add 3x5 cards with ideas, quotes, etc. to my pocket chart outline as I happen upon them. I’m open again to uncovering insights and capturing them so they are beginning to appear nearly everywhere I look, as if by magic.

Although more dedicated time is needed to make real progress on the book, many ideas and topics are beginning to take shape in my daily writing.

During the coming month, I plan to commit certain hours each week to work on the book and my blogs. This will be another step forward.

The average non-fiction paperback book contains 40,00-50,00 words. The word count for this little essay has run more 2200 with an investment of about 12 hours total. I started it back at week two, but came back to rewrite and edit several times before it seemed ready to find it’s form.

Though this article won’t be used beyond this blog without further editing, it shows that writing a book is not such a distant, unachievable goal. A simple calculation reveals that 25 essays of this length could well be woven together to create a book of marketable length. [55,000 / 2200 = 25] This is totally doable!

I’m learning in a concrete way that moving these big projects toward completion is just a matter of accumulating incremental progress.

It’s a cliché of the creative world that you can do anything 15 minutes at a time. Well, it’s true.

My threshold of measurable accomplishment seems to be found after 1-3 hours of continuous work. Obviously the hours I’ve reclaimed from useless internet wanderings, and soulless TV watching before that, more than allow for this.

TIME FOR THE FINDING

I found the time in my busy schedule to begin to record my songs, make more pottery, and write the book by turning away from the virtual, toward the real world were songs and pottery and books must come exist apart from my presence, were the need for random exploration and human connection can truly find their fulfillment.

As a wonderfully affirming bit of ironic serendipity, in the midst of all this change an old friend posted a link of perfect relevance on Facebook. Unaware that I’d been working to make these very alterations in my life, she shared the following article, “Time Lost and Found” by inspirational author, Anne Lamott.

After reading it I knew I was absolutely doing the right thing.

A month has passed since I began instituting these changes and tailoring them to accommodate my best way of being and working.

I write today with new habits firmly in place: the ethernet cable is unplugged from my computer. It’s nearly lunchtime and I have not yet gone online today. In a few minutes, I’ll power down the computer, plug the cable back in, then go online to finally post this little article on my “Quiet Little Life” blog for you to read.

When I do, the timer will be close at hand, already set to count down from 1 hour as soon as the day’s browsing begins.

Though I still expect to lose track of time spent online occasionally, I know I’m more awake than before and more aware of the time passed there. Always, I’m eager to return to the real world were more satisfying work and exploration and human connection await.

©2010 Kay Pere ~ Effusive Muse Publishing

PREPARATION: Clearing Clutter

Clearing away clutter provides the physical and mental space to spark the next creative explosion.

ECO ACTION: Cast-Iron Skillet

Yesterday, I scored a sturdy 10-inch cast-iron skillet at a yard sale for only $2.

I'm planning to replace all my current non-stick pans (the coating is a kind of plastic) with well seasoned, previously own cast-iron ones.  Non-stick coatings have been shown end up in the food we cook, then stored in the body where they potentially can have undesirable health effects.  You can read more here and also here.

When I got the new-to-me skillet home yesterday, B commented that it still had a crusty layer of 20-year-old eggs cooked onto the bottom.  I think he's right.  Someone probably got frustrated with the necessity of hand washing the pan, gave up and put it away unwashed.

For a savings of $16 over the cost of a new cast-iron skillet, I could put the time into reclaiming this one.  So this morning I set about cleaning and re-seasoning it.

First, I used a forbidden Brillo pad and some scouring powder to remove the offending eggs and who knows what else.  Followed this with a paste of baking soda and dish soap allowed to sit for a while, then much rinsing, wiping, scraping, and rewashing.  Maybe 30 minutes total, hands on.  By the time I was done no trace of the original funky smells or sticky, greasy scum layer remained.

Once the pan is seasoned again I'll wash it much more gently, using only hot water to rinse and a towel to wipe, scraping if necessary, but no abrasives and no soap.

Next, I used the skillet to cooked some bacon.  Bacon grease is supposed to be the best for seasoning a cast-iron pan.  I rarely cook bacon, but when I do used a teflon coated, non-stick pan.  And I always burn the bacon.  This was the first time I'd cooked with cast-iron.  What a difference!  It heated very evenly.  The bacon turned out just like in the picture books.

I used the bacon drippings, as instructed, to rub over the surface of the skillet before placing it in a 300F oven (for 2 hours).  The goal is to form a naturally baked on non-stick black coating.

The skillet is in the oven now.

I think it's time to assemble some BLTs.

GAIA LUNA: Garden Girl

I'm Garden Girl again today.  

Going out into the sunshine to get the soil ready for planting, dig up weeds that didn't get removed last fall (like goldenrod roots), and move around some perennials that are in the way.

Garden Girl's Superpowers:

• cultivating growth and sustainability
• transforming dirt and seeds into food and flowers
• turning yard waste and kitchen scraps into rich compost

Superpowers require sunshine, rain, and a variety of microscopic helpers in order to operate.

[NOTE:  I've been posting brief status updates on my Facebook profile nearly every day for the past several months, but not much here.  Decided this morning that I would use some of those as a jumping off point for this space.]

INTENTION: Mid-Winter Stirrings

The snow is falling outside today.

Inside I've taking steps to plant the things I'd like to see begin to grow this Spring.  Nothing particularly exciting, really.  Like the first unseen stirrings of seeds and sap beneath the frozen earth, the actions I've taken are mundane though crucial to what I hope will follow.

Yesterday, I installed Adobe Photoshop 7.0 on my iMac--my primary computer now--and began doing graphics work there instead of on my old Mac laptop.  

The addition of a title image (header) at the top of this blog is one result.  The other is a similar new header on my Sound Krayons Music blog.  

[In the past, I've only had an early version of Photoshop installed on my old Mac laptop.  It was cumbersome to edit images there then move them over to the new Mac for use on the web and in documents.  This upgrade opens up new creative and business possibilities, things I've been hoping to do for a long time.  The old Mac is too old to connect easily with the internet.]

Then today, I successfully transferred a song file for the first time from MOTU Performer on my old Mac to Digital Performer (DP) on my iMac.

[Again, I'd done all my MIDI work in the past on the old Mac without the benefit of digital audio available in DP.  After some trial and error, I was able to move the files from the old Mac by doing a "Save As" MIDI to a flash drive first, then opening in DP on the iMac and doing a "Save As" a DP file to the desktop did the trick.]

Blah, blah, blah technical stuff...

Like the big bale of seed starting mix I bought yesterday and hauled from the car to barn this morning, now I'll need to move all my old graphics and Performer files from one computer to another before I can use them in this new environment.

This sort of thing--to my mind--is the dry, lifeless part of the creative process.

I get discouraged because this part of the process seems to come so slowly.  I thought to myself, yesterday, as I scooped buckets of compressed potting soil from the bale and dumped them into an empty trash can: 

Are this year's flower and vegetable seeds planted and growing yet?  No.  

Are the recycled pots from last year cleaned and ready to set in the sunny spot?  No.  

Do I have everything I need to get things going?  No.

But today I have made one very small dent in a very long process.

One small bucketful at a time.  Peat moss fibers flying in the air landing on my skin, smelling fresh earth for the first time since last fall.  These are the tangible promises of things to come.

No guarantee that weather or pests or health will cooperate in the months ahead, but on this one day for this short time I've done my part.

Similarly, there is no guarantee that I'll reach my distant creative goals, but on this one day for this short time I've done my part.

With these small, unglamorous efforts--work on my computers solving one small problem at a time, repetitive work to prepare for planting--the things I visualize creating and sharing will have some chance to flourish.

One small bucketful at a time.

(c)2009 Kay Pere ~ Effusive Muse Publishing

Little New Year's Things 2009

Happy New Year to all!

Here are a few ways I've marked the ringing out of the old year, ringing in of the new:

• In anticipation of Spring, the first seed catalogs began to arrive on Tuesday.  I've started marking things I'd like to grow this year.
• A blanket of snow wrapped up the end of 2008, falling all day.  We worked together to keep the woodstove going.
• Baked apple brownies and oatmeal raisin cookies while the snow fell
• Continued with the studio reorganization
• Took time to reflection together about the best parts of 2008 and things to look forward to in 2009
• Celebrated with a toast of locally grown sparkling cider and a SciFi movie night at home

ECO ACTION: Disconnecting / Reconnecting

The photo I took earlier today of the cables under the desk in my studio, shows that there's a lot left to do to finish "disassembling all the recording and audio equipment."

With an eye toward conservation, I've decided to rearrange all the electrical connections in the studio, too.

The goal is to eliminate the unnecessary consumption of electricity used in standby mode when the computers, printers, and music gear are off.  (AKA all those little glowing power lights that make the studio look like Christmas even after I've turned everything off and flipped the light switch at the end of the day.)

The solution is to put segments of the studio on separate power strips with ON/OFF switches, to be turned on only when needed.

• one power strip for the studio equipment I use for teaching and my own practicing/songwriting activities
• one power strip for the computer and frequently used peripherals
• one power strip for my recording equipment
• one power strip--that stays on all the time--for my studio phone/answering machine and cellphone charger

That ought to do it.

I can't stop using electricity and still record my music, but I can reduce what I consume.  This is one step toward making my music studio/office more eco-friendly.

Time Between Years

Each year for the past several I've taken the week between Christmas and New Years to dive into the process of cleaning and reorganizing my studio, and other parts of the house, with an eye toward what I envision accomplishing in the coming year.

It's always a time of reflection, a shifting of energy from past ways of being and doing toward ways that are a better fit for where the new year finds me and where I hope it will take me.

This is one of the few times of year when I don't have music students coming and going on a daily basis, or weekly rehearsals in our home with the 20 or more kids in our ensemble.  I'm able to shift my focus from helping others define and achieve their goals toward looking at and working toward my own, without distractions.

It's always a relaxed, playful and intense time.

Here are some of the results from previous years:

Little New Year's Things - JAN 2006

Time Between Years - DEC 2006

Don't know what I did between Christmas and New Years last year at this time (12/07-1/08). Maybe I'll dig back and see if I can figure that out.

This past year has been a bit of a bumpy ride, with the bumpy bits that I hope will not repeat in the year ahead, or any other for that matter.  4 months of less than optimal health, plus another encounter with the darker side of the human condition, are things to be left in the past, if at all possible.

We don't always get to choose what happens to us, but we can choose to continue making plans and working to make them real.  I'm actively choosing to move forward into the coming year, making my plans based on the likely assumption that these difficult things won't repeat in 2009.

And even if they do, or some other challenges come along, well ... here I am anyway.  And here are the ones I love and the life we have together.

Here's to making life simpler.  

Here's to enjoying what is.

Started last night disassembling all the recording and audio equipment in my studio, to be simplified and rearranged.

I've removed the things I no longer use (maybe never used) and the things that have worn out or broken from frequent use (an old amplifier, a CD changer/player and a cassette tape deck), and have  begun to arrange the few things needed for my new set up in a way that will make for easier work flow.  And maybe some actual recordings.

Between each thing that gets moved or removed there's pausing, looking, thinking, wiping up dust and grime, imagining whether this is the best way.  

It's hard work to rearrange.

I'm trying to keep in mind that "good enough" and done is far better than the perpetual struggle for an ideal "best" that's forever incomplete.  (Same goes for the editing/re-editing of this blog post.)

Now, back to it.  

Powering down.  Disconnecting.

Reconnecting in a new way.  Powering back up again.

CREATIVE OATMEAL: other things to think about #2

[free or nearly-free happy things]

Perhaps not the most exciting subject, but a favorite breakfast for cold weather.  And it provides many options.

Here's my recipe.  It makes about 6 servings.  I eat one immediately and refrigerate the remainder to reheat on subsequent days.

Basic:

• 2 cups Old Fashioned Rolled Oats (slow cooking)
• 4-5 cups Water
• 1/4 tsp Salt (adds approx. 100 mg sodium per serving)

Bring to a boil.  Cook about 5 minutes over medium heat or until thickened.  Stir occasionally.

Additions:

• Dried Fruit, chopped (If you want them plumped, add at the beginning of cooking with oats.)
• Frozen Fruit, thawed while cooking
• Nuts, chopped (If you want them crunchy, add at the end of cooking.)
• Flavorings:  cinnamon, vanilla, nutmeg, cloves ... use your imagination
• Sweeteners:  brown sugar, maple syrup, honey, molasses, jam, fruit juice

Once it's served up on a bowl, I also pour on a little soymilk to make complete proteins.  (legumes + whole grains)

Cost:

• 15 cup container uncooked Store Brand Rolled Oats = $1.75 US (on sale)
  
• 3 Servings per cup (with additions)
  
• $1.75 US for 45 servings per container
  
• $0.04 US per serving + cost of optional additions and soymilk!
  

Time:

• 10-15 minutes once a week to cook 6 days worth of servings.  
• 2 minutes once a week to packaging in a resealable container for the frig
• 2 minutes each day doing other things while the microwave reheats (stir in a little water to thin)
  
• 1 minute once a week to scrub out the pan (if I don't remember to let it soak it takes longer)
• less than 1 minute once a week to wash the resealable container

Favorite Creative Addition Combos:

• chopped dried apples, brown sugar or maple syrup, cinnamon, vanilla, chopped walnuts
• chopped dates, chopped pecans, cinnamon, vanilla
• chopped dried apricots, honey, slivered almonds, almond extract (tiny amount)
• frozen blueberries, maple syrup
• frozen raspberries, honey
• strawberry jam, almonds
• blond raisins, pecans, cinnamon, vanilla, maple syrup

Yum!  Now you can tell someone they are as interesting as oatmeal and mean it as a compliment.

And Mom was right.  It does "stick to your ribs."

RECIPE: Toasted Almond Butter-NO SALT

"Training is everything.  

The peach was once a bitter almond; 

cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education." 

~Mark Twain, Pudd'nhead Wilson (1894)

I made nut butter from scratch for the first time today.  Very easy and yummy!

INGREDIENTS:

1 lb Whole Almonds

2 Tbs Almond Oil (or other oil) as needed

1)   Toast almonds in 350F oven for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally to toast evenly.  Allow to cool.

2)  Add almonds to food processor, stopping and scraping sides frequently, until paste forms.  If the nut butter is too firm, add oil one tablespoon at a time while continuing to process.  Length of processing time depends on the processor power/speed and oil content of the nuts.

Other nuts or mixtures of nuts can be substituted using the same method.

COMMENTS:

• I've stored mine in a repurposed 16 oz glass peanut butter jar.  
• One pound of nuts filled the jar exactly.  
• Processing was done in an 11-cup Cuisinart I got at a yard sale for $15.  
• The nuts were purchased on sale from the grocery store, at a savings of several dollars over the cost of a store-bought jar of almond butter, and without the salt.  

All very simple and the house now smells like roasted almonds.