This week was hectic, it seems, for most everyone. Hence I couldn’t refuse the glass of Portfolio from Laughing Stock Vineyards proffered by my colleague a little after 4 this afternoon… cheers, all!
So yesterday morning the bus that takes me to the train station didn’t show up, causing me and four other people waiting at the stop to run a few blocks to catch another bus to take us to yet another bus which would take us downtown. At the bus stop for the second bus, two more people join us from the route, one who I’ve recently gotten to know better (and who invited me to the book club thing Tuesday night) and another who I see on the bus and train all the time but whom I’ve never spoken to.
We end up sitting next to each other and get to chatting – she is leaving this Sunday to go to Iceland for a two month residency, so I ask whether she blogs and whether she will blog about it if she does. We exchange blog information (hers on a nice business card, mine scrawled on a steno pad sheet) and I discover I know her name… she is one of two artists whose name appears on an info plaque of the little bridge I cross every morning, providing some details about the creative conception of the decorative elements of the design of the bridge, a plaque I’ve read a hundred times if not once and thought “what an interesting name” each time I read it. The universe works in mysterious ways.
(To see more of Fae’s work and follow her blog, click HERE.)
My life is filled with simple pleasures these days. Knitting has become a fixture, and alternately is used as a relaxation/meditation (replacement) process and a source of visibly productive creativity. I enjoy the fact that I’m making things but not having to ponder the process itself – the pattern and the related elements are already figured out and all I need to do is show up. Hence my Gryffindor scarf in the making (tucked into the beautiful Lantern Moon project bag pictured here).
Another source of joy has been reading, and this evening I had the pleasure of attending a CBC broadcast of a book club radio show. Tonight’s featured author was Annabel Lyon who read from and went on to discuss her latest novel, The Sweet Girl, at some length. I haven’t read any of her work but look forward to doing so soon. As with most of these types of events, I always leave inspired and amped to stretch my own creative muscles, only to feel sadly inadequate at the results. I enjoyed hearing Annabel’s response to a question from an audience member on a how-to point (taking the time to scoff at the notion that creative writing is not a teachable skill): in order to produce good writing one must learn the tools that, combined with taking the time to write in whatever increments are available, will bring about the desired results. That, along with John Cleese’s video on creativity that is making the rounds on Facebook lately, there is no substitute for time in the seat.
I sometimes get this feeling of a pesky niggling just beyond my periphery with such little to go on that I’m not even sure what it is that I’m taking note of or why, but enough to know that I must do something with it. Kind of like (in Annabel’s case) Hellenic sippy cups and spiny “bubble wrap” plants (read The Sweet Girl to see what that means). So the Writers’ Festival happening next month seems like a good, short, foray into picking up some skills for someone (like me, lately) with a short attention span.