Under a Red Roof

Time Lapse

May 4, 2012 in Thinking by Colleen | Permalink

Yesterday, in a serious bout of procrastination, I distracted myself with a series of mindless activities, culminating in watching James Lipton’s Inside the Actor’s Studio. As always with that peculiar man, it was interesting and illuminating and provided many laughs. It also inspired me to answer his Ten Questions.

What is your favorite word? Um, no thanks, that would be like choosing between my two cats.
What is your least favorite word? It is not so much the word as a particular usage. “That was SICK!” When the person clearly meant cool, bitchen, or awesome.
What turns you on creatively, spiritually, or emotionally? The truth as found in a certain mystical quality that I cannot name but know the instant I’m exposed, like Laird Hamilton surfing, Ella Fitzgerald singing, James Galvin writing…
What turns you off creatively, spiritually, or emotionally? Treacle, insecurity, and cruelty, in no particular order
What sound or noise do you love? A manual transmission automobile in reverse, preferably at high speed.
What sound or noise do you hate? Repetitive tapping – pencils, fingers, feet, etc.
What is your favorite curse word? FUCK! It’s very economical. One word with a myriad of connotations.
What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Making fil-ums
What profession would you not like to do? Soldier, with evermore thanks to all who do…
If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? “Welcome to Fantasy Island…”

Space

March 19, 2012 in Being, Thinking by Colleen | Permalink

I’ve been thinking a lot about space lately. On all levels, including the final frontier kind, with my favorite Spock whispering those fine words in my ear, especially when I gaze out the front window whilst brushing my teeth on a clear night with Venus and Jupiter, right there, nearly close enough for me to touch. The space between them the coziest of hammocks, and if I run and jump onto Don and Katie’s house, putting some sort of trampoline on their roof, I could spring onto it and lie swinging between their two stellar bodies.

I would watch my house the same way Jupiter does whilst brushing his teeth at night. Or maybe think about how the universe and everything we are is expanding, see if I could observe it from that high perch, all the while not really understanding the concept of dark matter or infinity, save for maybe infinite kindness, which I strive to possess, but come up short from time to time. Probably because I am human and flawed.

But I’m working on it, the human part, every single day, giving myself the space I need to discover all that I am, all that I strive to be. I read Pema and the signs, whatever they may be, and try to get less trapped in my own thoughts and occasional wickedness, watching, sometimes getting very lost, other times dancing like a child, blissfully aware of how damned good it all is.

But it’s all about space. The space to observe myself (and you, dear reader) with kindness. The space to grow. The space to know I deserve every happiness and success. The space to be and learn. The space to mourn something I scarcely remembered losing, yet loving the sweet discovery, too. Oh space, inner and outer, infinite and ever confined, how marvelous you are.

…

p.s. The hubster works in the tall building at the very left. Hi Buddy!

Compassion

February 13, 2012 in Being, Thinking, Watching by Colleen | Permalink

A few weeks ago, I was walking downtown when a young homeless guy seated under a tree was asking passers-by if he was really there. “Do I exist? Do you see me?” As far as I could tell, no one acknowledged him. I was in the right mood, smiled, nodded, and said, “Yes,” as I carried on. He hollered, rather cheerfully, “Thank you for the beautiful smile!” at my back.

The exchange reminded me of a book I read probably ten years ago, Neverwhere, by Neil Gaiman, in which a man saves the life of a street urchin and enters the shady world of the underground, where his mere act of acknowledging her presence obliterated him from the sight of most Londoners. It further got me thinking about my own behavior. I do not always see the homeless man because that would make me…complicit, responsible, disappear into his world? If I don’t see it, I can protect myself. That pain there, that violence, that poverty, with eyes averted, I will not feel it. It or he or she will not touch me, will not become an albatross about my neck. I can move on with a wink and a smile, as if it never happened.

Then, a couple of nights ago, I was reading the work of Pema Chodron (yup, still at it), and she said, “Compassion practice…involves learning to relax and allowing ourselves to move gently toward what scares us. The trick to doing this is to stay with emotional distress without tightening into aversion.”

Well, shit, that’s exactly my modus operandi. Going to scary places, especially my own, feeling reviled, fleeing or shutting down. The truth is, life is ugly and difficult sometimes, even when it is so very grand, those mountains and molehills that appear out of the ether. What to do? As Supertramp would say, “Take the long way home.”

So I did, in my very Colleen way. I took a meandering path through the pain of others’ lives to get me closer to tackling my own and the everyday, trembling with fear, but without aversion. I watched a fil-um I thought I never ever would, never ever could, Hunger, with my man-crush Michael Fassbender. It details the conditions at Long Kesh prison and the last days of Bobby Sands. Good god friends, it was horrible. Ugly, cruel, vicious, and incredibly sad, no matter which side you take, and I will do no such thing. That was not my intention.

My point was to take it all in, not avert my eyes, as much and as often as I sincerely wished it, and breath it in and out, steady and even. And I did, through the fear of car bombs, men being beaten to within an inch of their lives, violently shot, and the hunger and waste of a beautiful man’s body. I breathed and sighed and wept and opened my heart w i d e.

I did it and can do it with whatever wretched refuse I encounter. The trick now is to remember and have patience.

Tags: Movies

Pop!

January 3, 2012 in Celebrating, Thinking, Writing by Colleen | Permalink

Well, here we are gentle readers, 2012, and it feels quite lovely, I must say. Last year was such a wild and wonderful year for us, with so very many changes, most of them good, but some happily left to molder in the scribbly annals of 2011. As for this year, it’s on track to be a humdinger.

The hubster, if all goes to plan, will only have one W-2 and master quite a few songs on the piano. He is well on his way with this song from Amelie. It’s been ever so fun to watch him progress through all the keyboard fingerings and strange to hear something from a film I love and know so well be made by his hands.

Also, very soon (quite possibly this week!) we will be done with the hanging of pictures in the bathroom before even more painting, decorating, and picture hanging in the basement and a house that is, for all intents and purposes, finished. It only took eighty-one years! How marvelous to walk into rooms once creepy and beyond ugly for so very long and see them just as they’ve been in my head for years. Patience has its rewards.

Which is also quite good because there will be one grand bash at our house this year to celebrate – are you ready peeps? The publishing of my novel! I can hardly believe the wheels are in motion on this, with all sorts of action happening behind the scenes and the reason for my sometimes erratic postings, as of late.

In some ways, I wish I could say it’s being published by some big New York house to save me from the large out of pocket expense and to make me rich and famous, but alas, the publishing business is a fickle one, and writers, unless they are already celebrated, have so little control, so I am taking the reins. Polite Society will be done to suit my very particular tastes, beautiful, simple, and small, and complete with illustrations from my beyond talented friend and Art & Letters partner in crime, Maren. She will be posting a selection of fabulous drawlin’s (as we’ve been calling them) shortly over on her blog, but in the mean time, wouldn’t you like to know what the Gastro-Gnome has been up to?

Many thanks to the hubster for everything, but mostly for believing in me and my talents, to my dear friends who read my work in progress (especially to Maren, and soon to Jef – BIG hugs to you both), Seth Godin for spurring me on with his inspirational blog, and my friend Kelli , who self-published her own novel and keeps me inspired in a myriad of other ways, large and small.

Stay tuned for pre-ordering information and all the best to you in 2012!

Unexpected

November 8, 2011 in Being, Thinking, Writing by Colleen | Permalink

I knit that, or rather, am knitting that. It’s not exactly finished. It was an unexpected turn of events, truth be told. Seven years ago, after a botched attempt at knitting a sweater, I thought I’d given up the knitting needles for good. Then Maren made a cowl during her sojourn here in Oregon and I thought, “I want one!” So, off I went to buy a skein of yarn and needles and got the party started. Well, I wish it were that easy. I read the directions in the Reader’s Digest Complete Guide to Needlework (circa 1979), which is possibly one of the neatest how-to books ever, started, then ripped it out about ten times (shit, shit, shit), then got the hang of it, and here we are. I am looking forward to a warm neck. Our house is cold.

The cursing is another unexpected turn. I used to be a prim Polly when it came to such things, feeling enormous guilt when I let a zinger slip, most definitely left over from a childhood (who am I kidding, adulthood, too!) of wanting and believing I could be perfect and good and sweet and liked by all. Well, as it turns out, cursing can be fun (fuck ya, bitches!), needed, and appropriate, and being liked by all is not all it is cracked up to be. Besides, there are plenty of no good louts on my list of people to avoid. I might as well balance the scales. Yup.

I also never expected that right about the time I started to love my body as it is that it would go and change on me. Now I don’t know if this is at all tied to the fact that I am now forty years old, or if it is some sort cosmic joke (you should have done this sooner, honey!), but dang. The skin on my face continues to baffle me and at my eye appointment last week found out that I need to wear bifocals when I read or knit or write. Bifocals! The good news on that front is that I found an awesome pair of vintage frames, and if all works out well and they don’t break in the process of putting in new lenses, I will be kitted out like the sassafras I am now embracing. Photo below.

Finally and rather joyfully, after the quite unexpected suicide attempt of someone I know (such heavy news), I am reminded of the preciousness of life, the dazzling beauty of the everyday, and ever more gratified at the bounty of friends I’ve gathered together on this thin raft, near and far (Hef – get out your spyglass. I’m waving at you!). You are gems, and I love you all.