A Report from the Midwestern Tundra

A Nice Little Home by the Creek

How many of my dear readers got snowed in this past week?  (Raise your hands.)  Yup.  Me, too.  We got record levels of snowfall in my town, record cold temperatures, and I think we're now going for a record number of days in a row that public schools will close for weather conditions.  I've got money on school reopening on Friday (since we have yet another storm hurtling toward us, due to hit tomorrow evening), though some are speculating it won't be until Monday... if we're really lucky.

So, here I sit, after my first full day of being back at work, munching on black pepper popcorn and drinking cinnamon coffee (somehow this is working), wondering if this is the start of a trend of Winters Future.  Because I fear the Snow Queen has finally won, friends. It is Winter here in Oklahoma, always Winter and never Christmas.

What have I been doing with all this extra time, you ask?  Forced slack days, how I love them so.  I did some writing, though not near enough to quite justify my existence (says my irritated muse, who wasn't near inspiring enough, I'll have her know, if she's gonna' bitch about it.  But I digress...); obviously I didn't blog, though I had several false starts (say sorry).  We watched a little TV, as was inevitable.  There's nothing like old reruns of Northern Exposure to help you feel like you're not alone.  If we're snowed in again (as it looks like we may be if we get the extra 10" they keep threatening), I fully plan on rewatching Fargo and probably Escanaba in Da Moonlight, too.  Try and stop me.

I did a lot of domesticky stuff, like cleaning bits here and there, baking cookies, cooking comfort foods, and reminding my two resident felines how lucky they are to have a warm home to live in and people to feed them (as appreciation isn't one of their default perspectives, it's good to remind them how good the little beasts have it from time to time, primarily when temperatures drop into the negative digits).  I had a nearly spiritual experience with some rainbow trout I pulled out of the freezer and fried up.  Seriously, friends, it was amazing.  This is only the 2nd time I can remember having this particular iridescent fish (second time out of the same batch I bought as a substitute for Tilapia when Whole Foods ran out--best substitution ever made, just sayin'), and all I did was fry it in some light olive oil with salt and cracked pepper, skin on (as the internet advised).  Scrumptious, buttery heaven.  (Note that I did not add butter!)  If you like fish at all, you must try this--US farm raised, of course, according to the Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch. (And how many of you didn't see that reference coming? Tree Hugger! you may scream.  Guilty.  And trying to be tree-huggery more and more every day.)

I also noticed, in my putterings, how important it is to keep from falling into a bored mental stupor.  It's all too easy when you can't get out, especially if you aren't a natural home-body.  To keep from going completely non-drug-induced-stoned, I did a lot of reading, of course, and the aforementioned activities, but I also did a bit if skipping around on the internet.  And I am here to report that there were, in fact, a few things of interest.

If you are still snowbound, or, like me,  are at risk of being re-snowbound within a day or two, here are some things I found to keep your wandering, cabin-feverish mind from wandering right off the deep end.

This one is a recent addition to my "followed" blogs.
Lisa Snelling at http://slaughterhousestudios.blogspot.com/ is a girl whose words and artwork are, simply put, devastating.  I'm in love.  I can't help it.  Look at those poppets!  And the blog entries are lovely, haunting, and honest.

I've been following Lady Lavona for awhile now.  Her posts are sometimes disturbing, sometimes enlightening, but always interesting.  In one of her recent entries, she posted the Youtube for Amanda Palmer's Map of Tasmania.  Occult, art, and rock n' roll.  What's not to like?  (WARNING:  Some very weird content.  I love it, but it's not for the faint of heart or the strictly unadventurous.)
http://ladylavona.blogspot.com/

If poetry is your cup of tea, I've been greatly enjoying the Jenkins Street Poetry Project.  I was particularly fond of Of Winter and Ordinary Time.  Tragically gorgeous.

Then, of course, there's the ever-present and ever-entertaining Words from a Nobody, who really does inspire me to get my crap together on a regular basis.  She was my first person-who-doesn't-know-me-from-Eve follower (and I still have no idea how she found me) and she remains, to this day, one of my hands down favorite blogs (I do not get why she doesn't have more followers, so I will continue to plug, plug, plug until I feel she has amassed the entourage she deserves).  I've decided I want to be her when I grow up, even if that means I'd have to turn back a few years (ahem).  Some call it backward, I call it progress.  She's raw, punchy, and prolific.  She puts me to shame every day.

And lookit what I found here.  This is a fellow blogger who has somehow managed (by connection or sheer magic) to have Neil Gaiman write a myth for his blog.  Neil then tweeted that he'd written said myth, posted the link, and there I was... staring at the marvelous, glittering train wreck that is Myths RETOLD.  I'll list the link that takes you directly to Mr. Gaiman's story, too (see down there--so you don't have to hunt too hard for it).  But, please, DO take a minute or ten to look around the rest of the blog.  If Aesop was reborn today with the personality of Jay (of Jay and Silent Bob as portrayed in nearly any Kevin Smith movie), it would be this dude.  I am enthralled.  Again, quite happily NOT for the sweet and demure.
http://bettermyths.blogspot.com/2010/08/neil-gaiman-made-up-this-myth.html

I have now suggested movies, hinted that you (like me) really should get back to writing, and pointed you to a handful of blogs to keep your mind from flat-lining during your winter's house-arrest.  If you have any better ideas, I'd surely love to hear them.  Got a favorite snowed-in movie or book?  Lay it on me.  'Cause I've already done all this... and there's a storm a-comin'.  

Mirror Work

Mirror Moth

It's cold and quiet in the world right now—at least for those of us living in winterland.  Outside, the second snow of the season has started to fall, though we don't expect much of it.  We're not far enough north for that. 

In the quiet today, I remember that I said I would tell you my views on addiction.  And it's a cold, staying-in day.  It's a good day for talking.  But why talk about that here, on this blog?  Well, because addiction is part of the human experience, it's something nearly all of us struggle with in one form or another, and, with this blog's focus being on matters specific to being sentient, I thought it would be appropriate.  That, and all those damned New Year's resolutions everyone's been on about lately.  I'll bite—I'll put in my two cents.  Some might find it helpful to engage in this dialogue, but many will believe such a discussion is not for them—they've never been addicted to anything in their lives.  If this is you, then you're either deluding yourself, or you're some kind of saint the likes of which have scarcely been seen in this world, past or present.

But then, why should you listen to me?  I'm nobody, after all—not a doctor, psychologist, or teacher.  I have, however, had some experience with addiction and attempts to overcome bad habits, which I'd like to share.  First, the obvious.  Did you know that I quit an 11 year smoking habit 4 ½ years ago?  I did.  It was hard—one  of the hardest things I've ever done.  I didn't use the patch or any other “smoking aid,” but I made it through anyway.  It doesn't define me, it's just something I did, another struggle I had to overcome in my life, one of many, just like you.  I learned a lot, though, about the nature of addiction.  One of the biggest lessons was that, after the cigarettes were out of the way, I found that addiction didn't end there—that it's more than just the dependency on some drug, but that it can take any form, and once you “conquer” one, you start to see a whole lot of others that you never knew you had.

I'm going to take a stab at a definition here.  I'm going to tell you what I believe addiction is.  In my experience, addiction is the habitual employment of an action (often irrelevant to the given situation) or substance (drugs, food, things) to make oneself feel in control.  Addiction, by definition, by nature, is never an actual solution.  An actual solution would solve the real problem, an addiction merely makes us feel better without making any positive changes to our life.  We use these substitutions all the time.  This is, for all intents and purposes, classic psychology.  It's so basic, in fact, that nearly every human being that I've ever met has been, currently is, or will be, addicted to something—even if that something is a defense mechanism.  Getting over your habit of taking your bad day out on the people around you, for example, is no easier and essentially no different than your uncle getting over his addiction to Jack Daniels or your dad's addiction to the potato chips that are clogging his arteries.  Well, that is, once your alcoholic uncle's doctor has helped him get past the physical addiction (nothing to take lightly).

Let me stress that having an addiction does not necessarily imply substance abuse.  You've heard of people having a gambling addiction, an addiction to food, an addiction to spending money.  These are all legitimate forms of addiction, having no less a hold on the person than heroine on your typical junky.   The thing is, this is what we do.  We reach for something to make us feel in control, to make us feel right, whenever we start to feel out of control.  It's natural and nearly essential.  The only problem is how we go about regaining that control, whether we're reaching for an addiction or trying for a real solution.

Along the way I've learned that, for us sentients, a sustained feeling of being out of control leads directly to mental instability (call it “having issues” or full blown “insanity,” the difference is just a matter of degrees).  I'm being quite literal here—feel free to look it up.  We must maintain some sense of control over our lives, our moments, for us to continue to make good decisions and walk around with the rest of the free sentients (as opposed to being locked up with the criminals or the lunatics).  That's what your addiction is—it's your substitute for being in control.  Whether it be smoking, over-eating, or habitually buying a little “extra something” to make yourself feel better, it's a way of avoiding having the guts to gain real, honest control over your life.

So, let's say you made a New Year's resolution to change some bad habit—to lose some weight, to stop drinking so much caffeine, to quit rearranging your living room every other week and driving everyone in your house crazy (because all this control you're exerting is really making everyone else feel out of control).  I'm here to tell you that no amount of “will” (if by “will” you mean “stubbornness”) is going to change your habit for more than a few weeks.  Your only hope, friends and sentients, is to start to recognize when you feel out of control, and why.  It is to start working through those control issues you're having in search of real solutions.  Your boss barked at you four times that day and you're feeling stressed and you could really use a drink.  Fine, unless you always reach for the bottle in such situations, in which case maybe it's time to look for a real solution.  Try talking to your boss about it or looking for another job or doing what you need to finally start working for yourself.  I don't know.  It's not my life.  But I know that you'd need a real solution, not another band-aid, not another “something” to make yourself “feel better”.

When I quit smoking and then quit avoiding conflict and then quit lying about my feelings to make the other person feel better, the process was always the same.  I had to recognize why I was doing it.  I had to understand I couldn't change the habit, couldn't deny myself the false sense of control, until I faced the fact that I was feeling out of control in the first place.  Psychology 101—and most of us will never take the first step in conquering it.  You want to change your life?  This is the first step.  And no, it is not the easiest, because we've been running from these realizations for nearly as long as we've  been alive.  I'm still learning what makes me feel out of control and where my methods of feeling in control have been failing me—just covering over the real problems.

So this is what I want to say to you, person trying to take control of your life.  Don't you dare hop on another diet, don't deny yourself that little shopping trip, don't tell yourself you'll speak up this time, you will (you assure yourself), right after you've gained some courage by avoiding the topic for a week or two, only to find yourself back in the same boat, having changed nothing and feeling none-the-wiser.  Why don't New Year's resolutions work?  Because, most of the time, you're dedicating yourself to eradicating a symptom while never addressing the cause.  Work on your head.  It's the most fascinating place you've ever been, and I guarantee you don't know yourself as well as you think.  Become more responsible for who you are and what you do.  Once you start the process of sorting out your mental issues (we all have them; if you have a mind, you have mental issues), realizing where they come from, and taking responsibility for your actions, then you will be able to tackle the addictions, the bad habits, and all the varying degrees of pseudo-control that you employ.

It takes time and it takes honesty.  That is the path to control.  Do the deep work—the hard looking-at-yourself-in-the-mirror work.  Without that, nothing else will make any difference in the world.  You can't fake this.  It's just you and you, kid.  And, if you're feeling like you need to make some lasting changes in your life, it's probably high time you got on better terms with you.

Life in the Multiverse

Here we are, on the very first days of 2011.  How is it finding you?  Do you feel any different?  It's kind of like a birthday, the start of a new year - you think you'll feel older, somehow, maybe wiser or stronger or mysteriously "new," but you usually don't.  This year, however, seems to be delivering a marked "something different."  Standing on this edge, I find myself thinking deeper, feeling freer, embracing harder.  Everything feels like a possibility, like hope.  And yet, the ghosts hover ever closer.

I decided to give Notes from a Sentient a face lift for the new year - something to better reflect this new frame of mind.  Do you like it?  I'm satisfied with my choice.  It's brighter, more colorful and dynamic, and it has my tree.  Yes, that one, over there - the one without any leaves, like a thing standing between worlds, between the living and dead, between the real and the imaginary, and do we really know on which side we reside?  It's a question worth pondering.  I do it all the time.  

There are lots of things I wanted to talk to you about.  With the constant babble of New Year's resolutions flying around, I thought I might talk about addiction and breaking bad habits (from my own personal perspective, since that's all any of us really has), but that's another post.  This one will have to be about writing - not the how but the why.  Why writing instead of habit-breaking, as would be so much more apropos for this time of year? Because that's where my head is at.  Sorry for the abrupt change in subject and the misplaced preposition, but that's just how it is tonight.  It's all I can do.

I was driving and thinking earlier, pondering my story, the one I've been working on, off and on, for too long now - the one that just won't shut up, never goes away, but never seems any easier to write, for all of that.  My son's head was stuck in his new manga book and a long, dark highway stretched out before me, the radio muttering just loud enough to know what song was playing, but low enough to become background noise to my thoughts.  I went away, snagged again by that other realm. (It's so close to this one, it's almost an overlay - like a nearly imperceptible caul.)

This novel won't let me be.  I've tried writing other things when I get exasperated and feel stuck with the plot, but I can't seem to get into anything else.  I think this is my Big Story - not Big in a NY Times Best Seller List kind of way, but Big in a this will gnaw at you until it's written, until it's done, kind of way.  What's funny is that it's not even the most personal story I intend to write.  That story is down the road a bit (the irony of this statement is something most of you will never get).  But this one is telling me to write, poking and prodding and whispering incessantly.  

I believe most people are like that tree (yes, that one up there), existing between worlds.  We are alive, but we're dying even as we live, will be dead some day, and weren't alive (does that mean we were dead, or simply did not exist?) before we were born.  We can be conscious, yet our mind, our attention, can be in two places (or more) at once.  We could be driving a car, for example, down a dark strip of highway while simultaneously seeing and experiencing somewhere else, another world, one that could be a memory but is more likely a figment of our quite considerable imaginations.  And this imaginative place where ideas and dreams and stories and paintings and songs come from is also a place divided, existing in and from different realms.  Our imaginations, our stories, seem to be part past experience, part anticipated future, part hopes and fears, and part the out-of-nowhere-from-nothingness that gives rise to those thoughts and ideas which we can't explain.  Not comfortably, at least.  

I think this is a piece of the puzzle, one of the core reasons why we create, why, if we are writers, we write.  (Of course, if you're a painter or an architect or a musician, you create in those way - I think it all comes to the same.)  Because these worlds, all of these realities we exist in, must be paid homage to, must be expressed.

Do you ever feel that way?  As if some fictional character, some moment in your mind, some feeling or glimmer of insight, is going to push against the confines of your being until it finally gets out?  Some people say, "I felt like I would just burst if I didn't get it all out!"  

It is like that, isn't it?  Like a living entity trying to be hatched or freed.  We, their surrogates or their creators (the jury is still out on that one), we don't have any choice, do we?  

Mmm... (as one thought leads to another) but we do, don't we?    We have a choice.  We can ignore the imagination, the other realms that are speaking to us.  We can pretend we don't hear the voices, don't see the vision.  But we know what that means.  It means the death of the soul.  Art is self preservation.  It is the soul's struggle for survival - the only sustenance there is, the only chance.  The only difference between we, the creative people of the world, and those that don't seek a creative outlet, is that we understand this one simple fact.  Art is life.  Anything else is suicide.  Or voluntary zombieism - and when it comes down to that, is there really any difference?

A Sentient Holiday Survival Guide (and a little catch-up)

Hello friends, on this fine Thanksgiving eve.  I trust this finds you well, if a little stressed, perhaps a little apprehensive?  I know we're about to embark on that ambivalent and potentially trying time of year, The Holidays.  Here in America, we start with Thanksgiving and the fun (or misery, depending on your lot) doesn't stop until after the New Year.  If that prospect excites you, I share your joy and wish you all the magical beauty and warmth this time of year can offer.  If not, I feel you, too, because we all know that family time isn't always happy time.  But... I'll get back to that in a minute.  First, to catch up.

I saw Deathly Hallows Part 1 over the weekend, and I'm pleased to say it was fantastic.  Anyone else seen it yet?  I'd love to hear your impressions.  There were parts that took my breath away, and a few that choked me up entirely.  I need to see it again, to thoroughly digest it all (any idea on how long 'til the DVD release?), and now I'm counting the months to the release of Part 2 in July.  It's excruciating, sitting here in the middle like this.  

Yesterday, I laid my hands on a copy of Stephen King's latest collection of short stories, Full Dark, No Stars .  I haven't even cracked it open yet, except to peek at the dedication page, which is to Tabitha King, and which touched me as much as every other one that's been dedicated to her in the past.  Somehow, his dedications never get old, and never fail to make me smile.  

In other news, I need to let you know that my dear friend, Sarah Franz-Wichlacz, is selling her one-of-a-kind hand-made critters, in case you know of a certain someone (you, perhaps?) that needs a magical creature in their life.  She makes them on commission, they're going for $75 per critter, and they're bigger than you think!  You can see examples of some she's made so far on her blog here, or look over to the right at Other Worlds to See and click on wich-crafting - you'll be transported to her world.  If you are interested in commissioning one of these lovelies from the lovely Sarah, you can email her directly at sfranzwichlacz@gmail.com.  I highly recommend it.  You won't be disappointed.  (Those magical hands can conjure the most wondrous creations.)

And now to deal with those potential holiday woes.  I know many of the people of my when and where are dealing with all kinds of recent family upheavals, yours truly being no exception.  If you have no such issues, and you get along great with your family, then do give thanks and hug and kiss those wonderful relations of yours for being a positive, stable, loving influence in your life.  Don't ever take that for granted.  

For everyone else, it can be hard sometimes to muster up good will and holiday spirit when you dread the awkward conversation, the elephant in the room, the endless mortifying decisions like what gifts to give, what food to serve, dear gods, what to wear  around these people!  Fear not, dear friends.  This too shall pass.  And in the mean time, I've come up with some ways to deal with it until it does.  

First, please remember that your familial relations, be they blood-tied or in-lawed, are people, too.  This sounds cliche, I know.  But it's something we don't often stop to really consider when we're sitting there, judging each other with fake smiles on our faces.  

Each and every person you see, and your family is no exception, has nagging fears, horrible habits (like your own), and their own particular ways of protecting themselves (just like you) from anyone who seems to them to be attacking who they are or what they hold dear.  These bits of self defense may come across as a prejudice, rudeness, or a direct attack on you.  They are protecting themselves.  Remember this.  In every difficult, confusing moment, people are just trying to survive, whether they are conscious of it or not.  Think about that for a moment.  Consider the people you know and try it on for size.  Can you see how this applies?

Are you with me on this?  Do you see what I mean? 

Now that we've put that into perspective (hopefully), I want to suggest that, in order to really make it through The Holidays intact and, perhaps (dare we hope?), happy, it's important to start looking inward.  Just a moment will do.  Who are you?  At your core?  What is the very best of you?  And what do you have (don't roll your eyes) to be thankful for?  

I sometimes think the Fates set it up this way, that Thanksgiving should kick off the holiday season (at least in this country) for a reason, and, sue me, but I think I'm onto something here.  

You have something, even if it looks like the whole wide world has gone gray and black with awful loss or sadness or just plain awkward family stuff.  If you have family, count this as a blessing.  Many people have no one, and not everyone likes it that way.  If you have "no one," remember that you have yourself, that you are alive, and treat yourself to something you love, something you enjoy, something that reminds you that being alive isn't so bad.  There's still good music.  There's a sky to wonder at.  And great books to read.  Movies to watch.  New people you've never met... but could. 

What I'm trying to say, friends, is that we are all someone and so is everyone else.  Don't let an awkward moment (or an infuriating one) rattle your core.  Your Aunt Mable may always criticize your clothes or your cooking.  So what?  It makes her feel better about herself to make you feel bad.  Don't let her.  You are you and that's no better or worse than anyone else.  

You've lost someone, or your family has a great big schism running through it.  Smile at all of them, even the ones you disagree with.  The point is who is there, not who isn't.  The point is that you're all human and all going through your own experience.  Disagreements are bound to happen.  It doesn't have to make you miserable.  And if someone in your family feels the need to start a confrontation, by all means let them, as long as it's productive, as long as it's honest, as long as it means getting down to admitting there's a big fat elephant sitting in your living room.  Go ahead, hash it out.  

I used to believe that people should just "try to get along" for the holidays, but I think I've grown past that now.  I still believe people should try to appreciate each other for the holidays, but that's not the same thing.  Learning to be honest, learning to be real, even if you don't get the reactions your hoping for, is a hard thing.  But it's better.  It's worlds better.  I promise you that.  

So, let Aunt Mable criticize the turkey for the 15th year in a row.  Let her tell you that purple really isn't your color.  And then look her in the eye and ask her, openly and honestly, why she feels the need to criticize you every year.  She may deny it, she may defend it, but whatever she says, it's better than swallowing your feelings... again. 

And then make sure you show each person in your world (even Aunt Mable) that you care, that you appreciate them in some way (even if it's hard to find, everyone can be appreciated for something).  It can be a small show of appreciation (like a compliment or a smile, so long as it's genuine), or a big show, like a direct "I love you" or a long conversation.  Whatever else you do at the closing of this year, do this.  You have no idea how good this feels, to put some good will into the world, and you have no idea how much good you might actually be doing, whether you can see the proof of it or not. Either way, it may very well save your holidays.  And it most surely will save your soul.  

For the Moon Never Beams

I promised to post my favorite poem by Edgar Allan Poe yesterday, but Halloween stood in my way and absolutely refused to let me near a computer.  (Please, no "late" jokes.)  Today, however, is All Saints' Day, and the Day of the Dead in Mexico, which means this poem is still appropriate.  So, in honor of my late Catholic grandmother (yeah, okay, I couldn't help it - luckily she had a good sense of humor) who, upon her divorce, renamed herself after her favorite Catholic saint, and who first shared this bit of Poe's soul with me, I now share it with all of you. 

Read this poem aloud, if possible.  If you read slowly and listen closely, you can almost feel the chill of sea spray and hear the sound of waves crashing in the distance.

ANNABEL LEE
by Edgar Allan Poe
 
It was many and many a year ago,
    In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
    By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
    Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
    In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love —
    I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
    Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
    In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
    My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
    And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
    In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
    Went envying her and me —
Yes! — that was the reason (as all men know,
    In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
    Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
    Of those who were older than we —
    Of many far wiser than we —
And neither the angels in heaven above,
    Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling — my darling — my life and my bride,
    In her sepulchre there by the sea,
    In her tomb by the sounding sea.