Michelle Cristiani's Blog, page 2

Create. For the process, not the product.

“There is a marvelous peace in not publishing … I like to write. I love to write. But I write just for myself and my own pleasure.”

― J.D. Salinger

 

Gather around! I will tell you a story of creativity. Think about what you create and why you do it. For the satisfaction? The end result? What if the main purpose of creating is…creating. What if it’s the act of creating, more even than the product, that does us good?

My daughter is lucky enough to have her own bedroom now, free of snoring brothers and prying eyes. She immediately set out to make it her own: wouldn’t you? Would you decorate the walls with pictures of favorite places? Soothing color schemes? This alone is a pretty good mental exercise.

My daughter made her bedroom into a shop. A storefront, a trading post. She made paper envelopes for new stock (coming soon!) and pasted them onto the walls (with that blue gummy stuff, thankfully. No tape on the new walls, please.)

Before long, the room/store was cluttered beyond belief. It was shop and stockroom in one. These paper objects seemed to reproduce on their own. Beneath the art table sat a pile of scraps, ever colorful but ever growing. More envelopes appeared! Sale signs came and went! Hours of operation were posted! New items arriving all the time!

Are you charmed? Horrified? Bored? I was a little of each, to be honest with you. I remembered the room when it was being built, bare wood and echoes. I had imagined something very different – something orderly – for my daughter’s first days and nights. But the store was well-trafficked and you could hear her haggling with her brothers over the price of golden swords. She was in the thick of it, and quite happy indeed.

Until, there was more store than bedroom. Soon she didn’t want to sleep there anymore, and climbed in with her brothers at night.

So yesterday I ventured in, and started to clean. (I know, parents, that technically this is her job. But this store was bigger than the both of us, and I knew she wouldn’t have the grit yet to do what had to be done. Which was…) I took down all the storefront signs, swept the floor, recycled golden swords. I wiped blue goo off walls where paper envelopes once hung. I cleared tables so they were again open for business – unlike the store, which had been abandoned. As I worked I rehearsed consoling her. She knew I was cleaning – what did she expect? And no one’s bought anything in the shop for a long time. Let’s move on etc. etc.

Just then she wandered in, took a look around. She put her arms out, spun around (she could do this now that the shop was pruned back), and said, “This is DAZZLING! I can sleep in here again!” She didn’t even ask me where the paper items were – it was old news.

Think about how most children practice this daily. They color pictures, and leave them on tables. They help you bake, and leave their dough to harden on the counter. As far as creation goes, they are, in short, Zen masters. (And why not, when they have no responsibilities? But I’m talking about the creation here. Keep the chores out of it.)

When I learned to knit, I was told that for your first piece, you make something you intend to throw out. You want to focus only on the stitches, and if you come out with something pretty, all the better. But that’s not the point of the exercise.

Did my daughter want patrons in her shop when it opened? Absolutely. But she spent far more time on product development than customer service. That’s where the joy is.

So: how do we bring that to our own creative lives? The lives where, during the work day and while making dinner, only the product matters? How do we tap into that joy of creation for its own sake? For my part, I will remember that when you create, you feel better. It’s like exercise. And I believe this is universal: I believe this is true for every human being alive.

I would like to know – please leave a comment. What is your creation medium of choice? How can you create in that medium for its own sake? What parts of the process, more than the product, please you?

And go make something, and share it here with us!

A New Theme: FOR SALE

The theme this time is “for sale.” What comes to mind when you think of selling, trading, putting something out for others?

Write a poem, post a thought, share with us. Are you selling something right now? Do you wish you were? What do you want to sell or buy or trade? Go deep or stay on surface. Start a discussion about what’s ‘for sale.’

This Week’s Theme: BLACK

 

“If you force me to pick one color, it’d be Black… It covers up the things inside of me that I don’t want to be known. Well, for the same reason, black is the color I hate, too…”

– Gosho Aoyama, Meitantei Konan

What images are conjured in your mind when you think of the color “black”?  Something eerie and magical?  Desolate and despairing?  Stylish and sleek?

Dig deep, uncover something hidden, and give this one a whirl.  BLACK!  Go…

Celebrate the Life of Maya Angelou

Writers and non-writers alike mourn the death of Maya Angelou today.  She was so much to so many: I think she was such a good writer because she lived so much.  She danced, sang, shared, and took in as much as she let out.

Though her poems are now legendary – and I will probably post one eventually – today I’d like to post her recipe for banana pudding instead.  I love this recipe, and turn to it often.  It’s in her book Hallelujah! The Welcome Table and also online.

Please share what you knew/loved/miss about Maya Angelou.  She was nothing less than inspiration personified; let’s honor her today.

Maya Angelou’s Banana Pudding
 Ingredients

3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar
1/3 cup cornstarch
Pinch of salt
3 cups milk
8 eggs , separated
3 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon pure vanilla pure vanilla extract
3 cups vanilla wafers
4 ripe ripe bananas , thinly sliced
1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar

Directions
Preheat oven to 350°F. In a large saucepan, combine 1/3 cup sugar, cornstarch and salt; stir until blended. Mix in milk. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly until thickened and boiling. Boil 1 minute, then remove from heat.

In a small bowl, whisk egg yolks, then whisk in about 1/2 cup of hot custard until blended. Pour yolk mixture back into saucepan of custard; cook over medium heat, stirring, 2 minutes. Stir in butter and vanilla until blended.

Place vanilla wafers on bottom of a shallow 2-quart casserole dish. Top with layers of banana slices and custard. Repeat layering, ending with custard.

In a large mixing bowl, beat egg whites and 1/4 cup sugar at low speed until frothy. Add cream of tartar; increase speed to medium and gradually beat in remaining sugar. Beat until egg whites hold stiff peaks.

Spoon meringue over hot custard immediately, making sure that meringue touches baking dish on all sides (this prevents it from shrinking). Transfer to oven and bake until golden, about 20 minutes. Remove pudding from oven and cool 1 hour. Refrigerate at least 4 hours before serving.

 

This week’s theme: Beauty

Confucius said, “Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.” Sounds like it depends on your eyesight. How good is your vision? Where do you see beauty? And what is it? A porcelain complexion? A perky nose? Curvy hips? Or something more? Is there beauty in the mundane? In the strange? Tell us what beauty your eyes behold.

This week’s theme: AMNESIA

What was this week’s theme again?  I forgot.  Oh, Amnesia, right.

What do you wish you could remember?  What do you wish you could forget?  What is the importance of memories, keepsakes, your image to others?  Do these memories propel us, or hold us down?

Weigh in with a thought, word association, comment, or poem below.  Just click on the comment link, just above the picture.

(Thanks to Ian L for the face artwork)

 

 

 

Monday, April 21st – Here’s your theme:

This week’s theme is

WANTED

Write a poem about it.  Or, if you don’t have the time to do that, how about just a quick word association?  What do you think of when you think of the idea “wanted?”

Share with us!

4.16.14

Writing Prompt for 4/6/14: “A Day” — Pick a day of the week, a day in your life, any one day at all, and write. Go!

Sunday




The problem with a Saturday night

is that it always leads to

a Sunday morning.

The way wine leads to sex,

memories lead to tears,

wishing leads to despair.




A Saturday night scatters

all your shards around my feet,

glittery to my watery eyes,

shiny in the shadowy light,

ubiquitous and dark like a fog

that’s rolled in overnight.




And then Sunday dawns,

every clock-click threatening

to turn my feet toward you,

every blinding sight daring me

not to see you in it,

every gasping breath inviting in your memory.

You’re everywhere

and nowhere

at the same time.




A Sunday morning needs to come with a dustpan.

A brush and a pail should come standard

with every seventh sunrise…

So I could gather up your pieces,

and store you in a safe place

where I can admire your sparkle

without braving your jagged edge.




A Sunday morning should be sunny,

and carry a relief that I’ve made it

through another Saturday night.

Birds should welcome Sunday morning

with an Alleluia song,

and my eyes should open easily,

without crusted saline at the corners.




A Saturday night should be bursting

with you;

not splinters of you, no.

It should be brimming

with heaping helpings of you,

massive quantities of wit

and wisdom and tender spirit…

Delivered personally by you

so that Sunday morning could arrive with a sleepy blink

and the yawning comfort of

your arms around me.

/gsg

Celebrate Elizabeth Peters!

Or Barbara Michaels, or whatever you want to call her. 

Celebrate the love for this great author, who wrote some of the first strong women characters I ever read.  You can share your love for her on the Bookshelves of Doom web site this week:
https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1MbQDNYwhIxIDmoqgl8Ez-JNgcPWJB3xlLA7vL1IZDmM/viewform?pli=1

Here is what I wrote about her.  Though I'm an avid reader, I don't own a lot of books.  I'm picky about what's on my shelves.  But her books are some of the few I acutally own.

Elizabeth Peters created heroines who were true role models for me.  They are curious, smart, independent, and willful.  The romantic banter was always witty and againt, intelligent.  And I always closed the book having learned something new about art, geography, or history.  To this day, so many years later, I still haven't read books that manage to teach, inspire, and melt my heart the way hers do. 
If you haven't read anything by this iconic author, check her out.  It's light and heavy at once.  These books are mystery and adventure, romance and comedy.  It's funny and serious.  It's romantic yet not schmarmy.  It will teach you new things, in every chapter.  Her books manage to be dense yet entertaining. 

She herself is a fascinating character: she has a PhD in Egyptology and is a world traveler herself.  She's written so many books you won't even believe the full list.  A prolific, colorful character in her own right.

Hooray for Elizabeth!  Entertaining readers and paving the way for strong female characters (and writers)!

A good deed? Couldn't be.

Happy Mardi Gras, all!  I am happy to share a story of a random good deed, all too rare.

Today we went to the bakery.  The line had a few people ahead of us, and my son kept saying, "we're next!" As the person in front of us was called up, the lady leaving with trays of cookies walked over and dangled a giant cookie, wrapped in pretty plastic, in front of my son's face.  It seemed like a cruel joke to dangle a cookie in front of a kid, but I played along, and smiled and said something like, "isn't that a fine looking cookie."  It hadn't occurred to me that the lady was OFFERING it to my son.  Just like that.  Just because.  I was speechless.  Wouldn't you be?  Everyone in the shop was smiling as we giggled and I thanked the stranger over and over.  And admitted, too, that it was heaps larger than what I'd have bought my son.  I'm still smiling when I think of it.  People don't DO that kind of thing anymore.  They (we) are buried in their phones, their worries, themselves.  We don't even see the people around us, let alone do something kind for them.  I guess that's why the few good deeds shine even brighter in the face of that.

As you can see, the cookie was as big as my son's head.  And freaking delicious (I ate the arms, and no, it wasn't vegan, so sue me). 

You hear stories of people paying for the toll behind them, or the coffee behind them. They seem more like urban legends, than true tales.  Money is short for everyone, and a few dollars extra always seems like too much.  My son basically had that cookie for lunch - he loved it.  But I loved it even more.  It positively made my day.  Wherever you are, kind lady, I'm thanking you one more time.  And for all the rest of us, myself included, it's a reminder that the little things are big things.  This was a big cookie, but the kindness was immeasurable.  You gave me hope today.  I really, really appreciate it.