Quinn McDonald's Blog, page 67

Google Reader is going away on July 1. Sigh. Worse, my G...

Google Reader is going away on July 1.  Sigh. Worse, my Google Reader page already vanished.  OK, I had too many blogs, and not enough of the blogs I really wanted to read, but it seemed harsh when it suddenly quit working on me.

It’s all in here. © Quinn McDonald, 2013. Ink and collage on etching paper.

I looked at several other platforms to read blogs, and I am the wrong demographic for them. I don’t want to share blogs I’m looking at on Facebook, and I don’t want to Tweet my comments to bloggers. So I found a site called, appropriately enough,  The Old Reader, which I like. It allows you to scan the images on blogs, rather than have to open each blog in a separate window.

So I’m starting over again, finding new blogs and trying to remember old favorites.  But first, I have that workbook to write and then. . .be still my beating heart, the extra poetry books I ordered arrived today! And the combination of the love of books and the loss of the poetry book seemed to spur the letter collage for today.

Wow, came in under 200 words!

--Quinn McDonald loves making collages out of typography. Among other things.

 

Filed under: In My Life, The Writing Life Tagged: collage, creativity coaching, mixed media

The End of the Angry Quilt

A few months ago I wrote about the mystery of the quilt my mother wouldn’t make for me. She stopped and started the quilt for more than 20 years. The part of the story that confounded me was that for the years my mom was in dementia care and in the years since she died, no one has been able to complete the quilt. People want to take it, but once they have it, their energy wanes.

Double wedding ring quilt, from SarcasticBlogger

Something happens to each person who offers to work on the quilt. Months or years after I hand the quilt over, I get it back, stuffed into a black trash bag and handed back quickly, as if it were an illegal transaction. Or one of mourning.

After I wrote about the quilt, many readers made kind and thoughtful suggestions (you can read that blog post here) of what I should do with the quilt. Some offered to make me a new quilt, which was touching and amazing to me.

There were also a few mothers with difficult daughters who wondered if I might have been on the other end of the perspective. Maybe.  And at the end, I promised to tell you what I would do with the quilt.

I’ve thought about it for a long time. Here’s what we know: The colors (Williamsburg blue and milk chocolate brown with touches of ivory and burnt orange) are not a palette I’d choose. (Notice I’m not saying it wouldn’t match my walls or the couch–I don’t think art has to do that). The calico my mother used was not the cotton of today, and the fabric has degraded over the years.

I took the quilt to meditation and was struck by three shockingly clear facts:

1. The proof, rather than the quilt, was what I was after. I wanted my mother to love me, and prove it by making me a quilt. She made quilts for so many others, why not me? That idea set many years ago, and I never questioned it. When I did, the answer was–my mother did not finish the quilt. I need to accept that as I have accepted the other truths that didn’t taste great the more I chewed on them.

2. If the quilt were finished, what, exactly, did I want to do with it?  I did not want it to cover my bed. Don’t like the color, the design is incomplete, and it would be a reminder of the whole story of loss, every day.

3. The fate of the quilt would be to lie folded in a box in the garage, degrading some more until I pass it on to a relative whose history it doesn’t fit, and who does not need to continue the story.

It took a long time for me to mourn what I did not have and to decide on the next step. Part of my business is designing rituals for others. I join people in marriage or commitment; create and perform sacred ceremonies; end of life transitions; house selling, moving and new home blessings; even new job celebrations. What I needed was a ritual for letting go of the quilt. Vicky, one of my readers, has left the comment, “Burn it.” When I read it, I was shocked. And I knew she was right.

The quilt has served its purpose, and it is time to transition the quilt to another use. I am going to bundle it up, write a letter to my mother, releasing her go of the obligations to complete this quilt or  prove she loves me. I will then burn the quilt and letters and save the ashes. The ashes will be mixed with water-soluble varnish and distilled water and become ink. I’ll use the ink to record the history of the quilt in a journal. My mother was the quilter. I am the writer, and the quilt will find a purpose in the way I know how to use it. The lessons of the quilt can be passed on

No one can be forced to love you.
“If you loved me you would. . . .” is a sentence that is about control, not love.
Loving yourself starts when you accept yourself and know you cannot change the past. Everything else comes after that.

When the day comes to burn the quilt, I will invite people to create their own ceremonies of letting go–of failed love, of regret, of a loss that won’t heal. Whether you burn old love letters or set your sorrows afloat, tied to a stick that you drop into a river, it will be a day to celebrate your own strength.

Take photos and write your stories, and we will create a blog chain of support and celebrate the power of letting go. I’m thinking that October is a good month to do this. I’ll remind you from time to time about your plan, so you will be ready. It will feel incredible light and right to let go.

–Quinn McDonald is a creativity coach and writer. Her word for this year is “let go.”

Filed under: Coaching, In My Life, The Writing Life Tagged: creativity coaching, letting go, mothering yourself, rituals, sacred ceremonies, the angry quilt, the mother you didn't have

Look Where You Want to Go

I ride a motorcycle. Before I bought the first one, I took a class on how to ride safely. (If I’m going to do something that’s inherently dangerous, taking a class first makes sense). Our class was a motley crew of geezers, younger punks, wealthy touring bike-types and regular people who like to ride.

In these standardized safety classes, you don’t bring a bike, you ride a small provided bike. I had the odd feeling that these bikes were confiscated or had been ridden into an accident. Bent fenders, scrapes and odd color combinations attested to hard use. I was on a tiny, banged up model. I felt like a bear on a bike.

Helmets are expensive, but wear one anyway. Neurosurgery is more expensive.

Class rules demand that everyone wear a helmet, gloves, heavy jeans, a jacket, and boots above the ankle. Did I mention the class was August in D.C.? Even at 7 a.m., we thought we were taking lessons in a dog’s mouth.

The instructor said, “Now we are going to learn how to go around corners and make sharp turns. How do you think we do that?” Half the class turned the handlebars and  promptly fell over. A non-moving bike likes to lie down. That often comes as a surprise to the rider.

The instructor rolled his eyes, and said, “Never turn the *&$%&^% handlebars to go around a corner! You LOOK where you want to go. The bike will follow. Always. Look. Where. You. Want. To. Go.”

He was right, of course. When we look ahead to where we want to go, our body automatically makes small adjustments to get us there. On a bike, you lean into the curve, and your hand and arm closest to the turn automatically pushes the handlebars down on that side, guiding the bike through the curve.

Creativity works the same way. We make tiny decisions that take us where we look. We press down, our thoughts go where we look. That’s why it’s important to look ahead where you want to go creatively. Because looking at failure is as easy as looking at success. But failure is a very different trip.

What are you looking at on your journey today?

--Quinn McDonald rides a motorcycle. She’s also a creativity coach. Those two facts are more closely related than is obvious.

Filed under: Bike Creativity, Creativity, In My Life, Inner Critic Tagged: look where you wnat to wind up, motorcycle creativity

Saturday Surprises

The winners of the free creativity coaching have been notified. Because of my confidentiality rules, the names won’t appear here. Thanks to all of you for participating!

Skywhale, being inflated.

What’s new for Saturday? For a whole new way of thinking about creativity, visit Patricia Piccinini’s site, and read about her amazing hot-air balloon sculpture. Part pre-historic fish, part breast, it was commissioned for a Canberra Centennial. The photos are amazing, beautiful and funny. Of course, I think flying breasts are funny.

Geraldo Feldstein is an absurd super-realist whose work is both familiar and reminiscent of outsider art. His installation work is startling and humorous, and his paintings are spare but rich in color.

Yep, a record. Of wood.

Amanda Ghassael combines science and art. In this project, she laser cuts a record. It’s entirely playable, but instead of vinyl, it’s made of wood. She also has one of paper.

The world of creativity is large and interesting and not always about painting or mixed media. Enjoy the weekend and  wherever your creative explorations take you!

—Quinn McDonald is looking through books for a project. Uh-oh.

 

 

Filed under: Creativity, Links, resources, idea boosts Tagged: Creativity, creativity coaching, painting, science and art, sculpture

What’s Next?

My coaching clients know that question: What’s next for you?

So I thought I’d answer that for the blog–what’s coming up in the blog?

The cover of the new book.Yep, that’s a piece of my artwork on the front–as an extreme close up. © Quinn McDonald 2013.

First, some nice news: Amazon.com has the Inner Hero book cover up. And they are taking pre-orders–seven months before the book launch! I’m excited and shaking my head at the same time. OK, I’m more excited.

1. Announcing the winners of the coaching. Did not get to it tonight, will put it at the top of the to-do list for a Saturday announcement.

2. The poetry workshop. Still working on it. And alas, somewhere in Tucson, someone has found the book and the notes in the book for the class. The hand-written ones. The ones that were not yet in the computer.  I have no idea where I vanished it, but I did. Dropped it, left it, forgot it–it’s just as gone one way as another. So I’ve ordered the lost book and two more (I couldn’t resist) and will re-create the notes.

3. Book giveaways. I’m reading through two books for review and give-aways. One will be an art how-to, and the other a coaching book.

4. A few scattered quiet days. I’m re-designing the website and blog site to go with the book launch. It needs to be done, and when I’m doing that, I have set limits how many hours a day I work. Also on that to-do list is the e-book for creating a new habit (from a blog series on walking, meditating and journaling last year). Three big training projects are in the mix–in my life away from the blog. One is due in two weeks, and it’s a big book. The other two are in outline stage. Both need some intensive work.

5. An article about estivating in Phoenix. Estivating is the summer version of hibernating. I have a version of seasonal affective disorder that starts in summer, when being outside is brutal. But there are a few precious moments, and I’m sharing.

–Quinn McDonald is busy, but she’s smiling.

Filed under: In My Life, Inner Critic, The Writing Life Tagged: creativity coaching, ebooks, estivating, Inner Hero book

Getting Over Disappointment

Note: The winners of the creativity coaching will be announced tomorrow. So you can still leave a comment on yesterday’s blog to be eligible.)

A few weeks ago, a class that I was looking forward to teaching didn’t make. For those of you who don’t teach, “not making” means not enough people enrolled to make the class worthwhile for the location or for me. For an instructor, it’s a blow–to income, to pride, to the schedule.

In my case, the Inner Critic (after all, I spent most of last year writing about the topic) showed up with the usual bus of relatives to tell me that . . . well, you can imagine. You have an Inner Critic, too.

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An ancient Chinese stone seal. The writing says, “Do not become complacent with victory; do not become frustrated with defeat.”

And because I am well-trained by the Inner Critic, I listened and began to follow that bitter and logical voice. Maybe I should stop teaching. How will I ever reach my audience if the classes don’t make? I’m sure you’ve got your own list. And that’s the point to today’s blog. There are better questions to ask yourself after a disappointment.

The first one is my favorite:

1. What did I want to happen? Well, let’s see, I wanted the class to be full, and everyone happy to experiment and eager to work. I imagined happy faces and great art results. That alone cheered me up.

2. How would the class have achieved that? Once I had the happy class in mind, I imagined them working on the project I planned, and in three minutes realized that I wanted to change some things about the class. Now, this is a habit I have, that no class is the same one twice, and that fiddling with the class content is something I do regularly. That put me in the feeling of doing something familiar and fun.

3. “What’s the worst that could happen here?” This is really a grim question. I used to ask it all the time to prepare myself. Instead, I asked, “What’s the best that could come from this?” The answers surprised me–more time to update the class, create a handout with a bonus extra, and run the class closer to the new book launch.

4. Where does it hurt? In my case, pain of failure always hurts in my chest. That was an immediate need. A few deep breathing exercises helped, and a walk made the pain leak out of my body.

Disappointment is a part of every life. How fast we bounce back determines how fast we recover and move on.

—Quinn McDonald would have been happier teaching the class. Having the opportunity to make it better is a gift.

Filed under: Inner Critic, Quinn's Classes, Recovering Perfectionists Tagged: creativity coaching, inner critic, recovering from disappointment

A Million Views–and a Giveaway

Photo: Lickthebowlgood.com

Yes, it’s happened. My blog passed a million views yesterday. That number sounds amazing to me. Oh, I know that the blog is six years old, and a million views isn’t record-breaking. Not the point. For me, it means that people keep coming back, looking at older pages, waiting for new pages. A million views.

It makes me happy and grateful that people have found me, stuck around, left and come back, and posted insightful, interesting comments.

So it’s time to celebrate! I’m giving away two, one-hour creativity coaching sessions. If I receive more than 60 comments, I’ll do one free coaching for every 30 comments left, and choose the winners from among the first, the middle and the last groups of comments.

Photo by Lynn Viehl

The coaching is not a demos. Real-life, get-down-to-the-issues creativity coaching session. Want to tackle your inner critic? Good idea. How about choosing your next project and starting it? Or taking a look at your perfectionism? It’s your choice. It’s a one-hour session, either by phone or Skype, and it is my gift to you. No charge, no sales pitch, just coaching.

If you’ve ever wanted to experience creativity coaching, this is your chance. You will experience the feeling of support and possibility, perhaps even a moment of clarity and a breakthrough. It depends on what you bring into the session, and I am excited to have the experience of free-form coaching again.

Here’s the small print: We’ll choose a time that works for both of us. You will initiate the call. If we use Skype, it will be computer to computer and without video. International entries are encouraged, if you have a computer and a Skype account (which is free).

Thanks so much for continuing to read my blog and celebrate with me!

--Quinn McDonald is thinking, “A million views. Wow.”

Photo credit: Cake:  Lickthebowlgood.com Spring challenge.

Sparkler: Lynn Viehl, photographer.

Filed under: Coaching, In My Life Tagged: A million views, Creativity, gratitude, inner critic

What Happens at a Writing Retreat?

The Madeline Island School of Arts

“What’s all this about deep writing?” asked a client. “Why do I need to go on a retreat to write?” Going on a writing (or art) retreat is one of the biggest gifts you can give your creative spirit. Here’s a peek at what will happen at the Madeline Island School of the Arts this July 22 to July 26:

You arrive at Duluth, Minnesota and catch a van to Madeline Island, next to the cluster of the Apostle Islands in Lake Superior. The van takes you to the ferry in Bayfield, Wisconsin. (About 1 hour and 45 minutes). From Bayfield, you’ll take a ferry to Madeline Island (about 30 minutes).  The van takes you to the front door of the school.

The weather in July will be about 73 F in the daytime and 55 F at night. You get around the island by walking or bicycle, although you can also bring a car or rent a scooter or bicycle. By the time you arrive, you’ve already become used to the peace and quiet.

You’ll find your room and check out the classroom, and then explore the island. The next day, you’ll meet me in the classroom for Metaphor and Magic: Mixed Media Conversations with Your Inner Critic.  The first day, we will talk about why you came, what you hope to get out of deep writing and expressive art. We’ll talk about the project we are going to work on–the writing, the art, the free-form pages, how we will make, gather and carry them, how to use the pages in brainstorming, planning, choosing ideas to follow.

You don’t have to know how to draw or write to take this class, you just have to bring your self, your experiences, your questions about what it is you are meant to do.

You will have brought your Inner Critic, and you can expect him (or her) to show up and yap. This class is about confronting your Inner Critic, taking on the voice of “never good enough” with the Inner Heroes you will discover over the next five days.

On that first day we will learn to trust each other, to make those first tentative experiments in meeting kindred souls who are also seeking connection.

On that first day we will also make Monsoon Papers and talk about who we are, who we wish we were, what we need to leave behind. In the afternoon, we will do our first deep writing exercise–a kind of writing that lets you get to the heart of who you are and how you would like to be heard. You may suddenly cry, or laugh, or discover a part of you that’s been hiding at the edge of your vision. Expect to discover yourself as you discover the island.

In the evening, you will explore the island and the restaurants available.

For the fest of the time, we will spend mornings together, learning a new writing technique and a new art technique. We will experiment and explore and uncover our Inner Heroes.

In the afternoon, you can explore the island, find a place to write, or return to the classroom and try out what you learned that morning. I’ll also be available for private creativity coaching sessions. (There is no extra charge for using the classroom or the coaching).

On some days, we will share our ideas and our work, to learn from each other, to form the connections that deep writing and deep art encourage.

On the 25th of July, we will begin to gather our free-form pages and discover the many uses they offer. Sorting and creating spreads like you would Tarot cards, you will learn to use your newly discovered voice, your strength, your creativity.

Your time on the island can be a magical time of healing, of soul retrieval, of refreshment.

Please join me there for an unforgettable experience. The class tuition is $425, and you can register at MISA’s page with the class description. Most of your other questions will be answered on this page.

–Quinn McDonald is starting to plan for the metaphor and magic. She’s packing quite a bit of magic.

 

Filed under: Inner Critic, Journal Pages, Quinn's Classes, The Writing Life Tagged: deep writing, expressive art, Madeline Island School of Arts, soul retrieval

Collage and Perspective

Working on another letter-and-number collage, I made a few decisions. Just letters and numbers is tedious. More color is needed to keep the work visually interesting. So I added maps pieces for mountains. But something wasn’t right. The piece looked odd.

Thanks so the experienced eye of a collage-art teacher, I learned something important about perspective. “To get the book to sit up, you have to place it into the mountains, not just up against them.” That made sense. Collage is a forgiving medium, so I could add mountains around the book, correcting the problem.

Collage in progress.

To make the perspective of depth happen from the front of the field to the back, I wanted to add wider strips of paper in the front. That wasn’t quite enough, so type came back to the rescue. There is a small line of type on the right, toward the back. Larger handwriting type is in the front. That helps set the perspective.

The completed collage

Why is the type line on the right upside down? It’s a complete line of type and makes sense if you read it. I don’t want the reader to feel the focus is in that line of type. So I placed it upside down, covered in tissue, giving a sense of scale, not not making it the important thing to look at, that’s still the book.

I like this development from the pear to this piece, and I’m ready for the next step, which is using numbers and letters for definition and shading, but collage elements in the background. Another choice is to paint the background and make the focal point collage. Experimentation is called for.

–-Quinn McDonald has gluey fingers and a better perspective.

Filed under: Journal Pages, Links, resources, idea boosts, Tutorials Tagged: adding perspective, collage, letters and number collage

The Mother You Didn’t Have

If you spent more than 15 minutes looking for a Mother’s Day card because reading the sentimental ones made you feel like a hypocrite, sad, or guilty, welcome to today’s blog.

Prickly plant seedhead.

If your childhood was happy and you had a mother who gave you everything you needed and no card is sweet enough, today’s blog is not for you. And most likely, you are with your mom, being happy.

Anna Jarvis, who invented American Mother’s Day in 1908 was angered by the commercialization by the early 1920s. So you are not alone if you think the holiday is a lot of hype for cards and candy. Most likely, that’s not your heartache. You never had the mother you wanted. The one who comforted you and praised you and loved you when you were unlovable and  helped without anger when you sewed the pieces of your gingham skirt together backwards. Twice.

Maybe you chose not to be a mother and everyone asks you why, or you wanted to be a mother and it didn’t happen for you and you are still pretending that’s just fine.

It’s complicated. Whether your mother was cruel or uncaring or clueless, the pain is there. If your mother is still alive, you probably won’t be able to have the big turnaround, awakening and happy ending your friends keep promising you. If your mother is dead, you may replay scenes, wondering if you had acted differently, if the results would have been different. You’ll never know, but a wild guess tells me No. Some things can’t be changed, fixed, or healed. And never by one person. Two people, a mother and her child, might be able to cobble together a relationship, but it’s hard.

The relationships between mothers and daughters is always hard. There is unwritten jealousy between age and experience and youth and naivete. There is anger in lost opportunities and unmet expectations.  For some, the fact that you were a daughter was enough of a disappointment to fill a lifetime. I ran across this quote yesterday, whose poignancy was hard to read:

“Remember that every son had a mother whose beloved son he was, and every woman had a mother whose beloved son she wasn’t. ” – Marge Piercy

But here is a truth you might want to hear right now, today, on Mother’s Day. You cannot be anyone else except the person you are today, with all your faults, experiences, hardships, joys, stumbles, successes and backslides. That is also true of your mother. No matter what happened, your awareness and work brought you to where you are today.

And starting today, you can choose to be generous and kind and patient. Maybe

The long shadow doesn’t have to haunt you.

not with your mother, but with the women who surround you. The ones who work with you and don’t meet your expectations. The pretty ones who get promoted ahead of you.  The ones who don’t take the opportunities you wanted and they have the freedom to turn down. All those women you meet on your path during the day. You can swallow the angry remark. You can wish them well. You can choose not to judge. That is your choice now. And choosing that freedom instead of choosing retribution is worth celebrating. Today and every day.

–-Quinn McDonald’s mother has been dead for almost 10 years, and the shadow still falls across the path on some days.

Filed under: In My Life, Inner Critic, Opinion, Recovering Perfectionists Tagged: abandoned child, failed Mother's Day, Mother's Day, unmothered child