FOMO vs JOMO

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“It’s a FOMO thing”, my new 22-year-old teaching teammate responded.  I had noticed her phone on top of the copy machine as she was running copies for the day and I asked why she had it always within arm’s reach.  “FOMO?” I asked.  Close to retirement, I was not literate to millennial buzz words.  “Fear of missing out.” She responded, not missing a beat. I remembered that feeling in high school and college but now it meant in a social media sense as well.  The whole posting, sharing, liking, commenting, and texting thing was sort of passing me by.

Since that time I have become a smartphone user.  For a while, I dipped my big toe in the world of Instagram and Facebook and I text when needed. As an artist, the word is “document, share, share, share, like, like, like”.  But being a person easily distracted and easily overstimulated I backed off the social media thing.  As a maker who does not have to make a living from my art, now I keep it to a bare minimum.  I am not  ”branded” so to speak. The trade-off is enjoying being in the moment.

The FOMO thing came back to me in another incarnation two weeks ago when I was at Craiceann, the weeklong bodhran camp I attended in Ireland (see my previous post).  After a full day of classes and activities, I was pretty wiped-out. Being an introvert and in my 60s, I need a lot of recharge time and a good night’s sleep.  I knew if I went out to catch the great music at the pubs that started at 9 PM and join in I would be a mess for my classes the next morning.  It was difficult knowing what fun I was missing out on, especially hearing about it the next day from my new friends.  I decided to compromise, making a deal with myself to go out the last evening for some late night fun.

Herein lies the concept of “JOMO,” the joy of missing out (this word was coined some free-time-2040679_1920years after FOMO). When we are so involved with FOMO & social connections we miss out on ourselves.  We have no time to reflect, breath, savor, & notice.  Those nights I stayed in were so lovely.  I wrote in my journal, read, took dreamy walks at sunset and went to bed at a decent hour.  I have no regrets.  The last night I did go out and had great fun out playing in a pub.  I rolled into bed at 3 AM exhausted.  That was a great memory too but I suffered for it during my two days of travel time back to Oregon and had horrible jet lag after.

I’m glad I respected myself with a JOMO mindset during my holiday, not missing out on my own well-being (with that one exception).  Sometimes missing out can offer the greatest gifts.

A view from one of my walks

MISSING OUT

You missed out on all the music

Yes, but did you see the patterns of clouds dancing overhead?

You missed out on all the fun

Yes, but did you see the swallows dart about in the evening sky?

The spotted horse grazing peacefully in the paddock?

The hush of the summer evening?

The sea breeze blowing through my hair?

The long light of midsummer?

Yes, I’m afraid you missed out.

 

For the music I didn’t miss out on click here!

 

 

 

Being a Verb

fairy-2573105_1280It’s a risky business calling yourself an artist or a writer.  People tend to hold you in higher or lower esteem than you actually deserve.  Then there is a matter of assumptions…  Attend a social gathering and then introduce yourself as a brain surgeon to one group a people and then a waitress to another.  You will be treated accordingly.  Thus I prefer to avoid labels entirely preferring when asked what I do using more of these descriptors:

I write, I make art, I play guitar, I sing, I garden, I am recovering from teaching middle school, or whathaveyou.  Then there is the added pressure of living up to your label.  It’s far more enjoyable to be a verb.

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Verbage

I would rather be a verb than a noun

I would rather emerge, shine, fly, dance

And kick up my heels

Rather than just be a person, place or thing

Let me describe an action, state or occurrence

And wedge myself in the predicate of a sentence

Give me the energy to escape the box with a pretty label

And end with the pleasure of being all used up

My wings in tatters

My breath gone

When my time on Earth is done

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The Art of Keeping a Holiday Tradition

 
The holidays have gotten pretty simple around here My son is grown and there are no grandkids.  We are very modest with our gift giving. Who needs more stuff? I’ve come to value traditions that don’t involve consumerism.

The one thing I have hung onto over many many years is making my own holiday cards.  Sometimes they are color copied, some years they are poems I have written. This I got down to the basics with old-fashioned scissors, glue, scraps of paper, stamps, and sequins.  I made most of them with a group of my friends (see my previous post) It’s fun just take time out of life and just be crafty.

I’m skipping the holiday letter this year in favor of putting a very short handwritten note with my signature.  My card list is relatively small. If I do a few a night all will be out in the mail in a few days to friends and family.

That’s my little gift to others afar from the non-digital world of paper, glue, pen and a bit of love.

The Art of Getting Out of Bed

hippie-487046_1920It shouldn’t be that difficult.  Most people open their eyes, pop out of bed and voila!- on with their day.  For me, making the transition from Dreamtime to wakefulness is a sacred ritual.  This can sometimes take up to an hour. Even when I was working full-time I always allowed some time for this.

I have a lot of “wild hamsters” that populate my head and if I don’t get them in line my day seems chaotic.  First I brew a cup of tea, heat up my “hotties” for my tight back and then meditate for 12 minutes.  Once my “spousal equivalent” feeds our two dogs, Bandit (Red Heeler) and Dougan (Golden Retriever) he lifts them up on the bed which is the favorite part of their morning as well.  (Nothing like starting the day with four-legged love).  Then he crawls back into bed to read the paper.IMG_1630

I spend a few minutes in my planner thinking about my goals for the day or week.  On to my journal where I may write anything that’s been lurking in my mind, a poem, or a person-984236_1920sketch for some art.

Notice I don’t start the day reading the news.  I fail to see the point of starting the day feeling depressed.  I can always listen to NPR as I go about my day to stay informed.

Then I am ready to transition from human being to more of a human doing with a foundation of centeredness that I carry with me throughout my day.

Continue reading “The Art of Getting Out of Bed”

Studio Notes 11/5/2018

writing-828911_1920From my writing desk….

My second piece of prose “Bull’s Eye” was published recently by “Montana Mouthful” a literary magazine out of Missoula Montana.  This was in their latest“Haunted” issue on page 15.  They also were the publisher of my first prose piece “Looking for Abraham” back in their August Secrets issue on page 29.  Both were blind submissions so I guess got lucky!  In both cases, having a submission deadline got me focused and finished– even though my inner critic was whispering “not good enough.”  I’m so glad I followed Natalie Goldberg’s advice “Let others be the judge of your work”.

Continue reading “Studio Notes 11/5/2018”

Studio Notes- August 2018

IMG_0602IMG_1066 (1)I’m still working away trying to hone monotype techniques on my gelatin plate.  A monoptype is a one -of-a-kind print.  I cheifly use stencils and then sometimes stamps to make my images.  Then I go back in with colored pencil to highlight.  The following two prints were inspired by my visit to the Oregon Coast Aquarium in May.  I closed down the place gawking at all the beautiful seal life.

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My nightly delight is Lizzy, our little feral cat who pokes her head up at the door begging for food with her pathetic meow.  I can finally pet her and pick up her bony little body.  Most likely she has feline leukemia.  We feed her all she wants but she never gains any weight.  I had to paint a picture of her.IMG_1023

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“Lizzy”  watercolor, India Ink and colored pencil

The Art of Earth, Wind, Fire & Water

IMG_0819 (1)While I was at Ghost Ranch two weeks ago (see my post “Escaping to an Artful Landscape”)  I took a 5-day long pit firing workshop.  Long before we had electric and gas kilns to fire clay, indigenous people including Native Americans, extracted their clay from local deposits and fired their ceramic ware in pits they dug into the earth. Wood, droppings and other combustible materials were placed around the pots and then

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Image courtesy mikusa.com

covered with shards, moist clay or more wood.  The pit was then lit on fire and tended for hours.  This is the oldest known method of firing pottery.

Though pit fired ware is generally not as sturdy as those fired at higher temperatures in modern kilns, they can be quite beautiful- especially if the surface is burnished beforehand.  Depending on where the pot is in the pit can affect how the surface responds to flame, smoke, and oxygen. The addition of other salts around the pots can also create colorful patterns. Ceramic artists today are modifying the basic techniques and achieving

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image courtesy Eduardo Lazo

stunning results. I’ve been attracted to this method since it is so primitive & close to natural processes. Beautiful useful and decorative items can be created using only the four elements (there is water in the clay).

Due to time constraints and high fire danger at the time, we had to modify our firing methods.  Instead of digging pits we had to fire in galvanized tubs and had to fire for shorter amounts of time.  Our pieces did not achieve the range of IMG_0882colors that can be possible.  Still, I understood the process, had fun,  and plan to try this behind my home clay studio.

Below are are some of the pieces I made during the workshop.

 

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The 3 sheep were inspired by the black sheep running loose on the ranch.  I identify with black sheep!