Hit ‘print’. Let’s see how low it can go before just blank comes out. Does blank make a sound in the forest? I’m a block from Staples. They have ink. But do they have 2012?

I’m writing for a client. No need to print – just pdf and email. It’s a story about a pretty place in Normandy, France. If people go there, they will be rejuvenated. They will refill their supply. When they leave, there is even a chance that they will have left their mark.

I’d like to leave my mark. So, yes. I will get a fresh cartridge of life for 2012. I will write and print and fax and sign and sing. I will find a home with a yard. I will tell stories worth re-printing somewhere with a larger circulation than this quiet room.

Almost out of ink. Supplies running low. Re-fill. Re-fuel. Re-commit. Re-cycle used cartridges properly. xo

Storytelling is an age-old pastime.  So are salons. So are house parties. Show & Tells are a tasty mix of all three. They happen in different homes each time, so the crowd is always a slightly different mix of people. Since LA is so spread out, it’s hard to feel cozy and connected. It’s double hard to meet new people and stay in touch. I’ve watched how Show & Tell has worked against all these odds to reshape our expectations about how it feels to live in LA. It feels pretty good when Show & Tell is part of the mix.

I’m interesting in co-hosting these not just all over the city, but just all over.   Tell me you want to host one in your home and I’ll help you plan it and run it. If I could do one of these each week, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my time.

See you soon -

Deborah
415.307.3181

Recently, I decided to re-ignite the organization and follow-through with a new vision that’s been churning in my head that leverages social media and the proliferation of songs and videos online. It’s called the Literature ReMix Project.  It involves kids and songs and glue. All exciting. I’m also building a new board that will help AFL leverage our skills to serve many literacy initiatives including health literacy and media literacy.

The new site is launched so thanks for taking a spin around it. Enjoy! Please share this post with anyone who you think might appreciate it. Thanks xx

update: We raised $500 from this site and FB and the check was written directly to a school in Japan trying to rebuild.

I went to the beach to day to walk the mutt, and really got into my head the truth about impact and how it relates to minutes of our lives – not just years. It’s the split second decisions we make that can be as devastatingly important as the grand strategies we plan out. I bet that anyone of these women – each of whom have resumes that can wrap my house twice – would say that their ‘greatness’ is anchored by continuity – the glue of being you all the time.  I bet they’ve learned hard lessons from veering away from their guts and crashing into other people’s values while defying their own. I bet those lessons sting them every time they happen…because they do…because we are all human and confuse doubt with humility.

So a toast to these women. I hope their convening sparks more audacity, more greatness. I know for me, I’m inspired to dig in even deeper into my capacity to be happy, make art, and effect change where it’s needed.

I’m a woman of many projects. I do things that keep a sparkle in my eye. Lately, while taking inventory of 2010, I’ve slipped into deep moments of critical thinking about my ‘many projects’…wondering which one will ultimately consume me. But really, of the 4 or 5 things I have going, they all have a place, a reason, a moment of priority among my other priorities. Does that makes sense? Well..perhaps to those with ATD.

When does a distraction get redefined as valid, something with gravitas? Someone today asked me if One Good Thing was a means to an end or just another distraction. I think he was referring to money – will I make money from this one.  Oy. Maybe. Perhaps. Someday. Yes. Oh, Certainly. I have always had intentions…

Ideas stay soft and fluffy until you grab them from the sky and build them a nest to grow in. Then they start gaining mass and weight and THEN what once was a thought…a distraction…becomes something else. Becomes art from stone. Food from soil. Love from a shy hello smile.

I hope this blog entry distracted you.

I was struck by a book dangling off the top of one of my piles. It’s called Pictures & Tears. It looks at pieces of art that have over time, elicited tears from their beholder. It’s crazy how many enduring pieces of art endure because they tap us right in the gut. No need to route through the brain for analysis. Just a straight shot inside.

I realize that what grounds me in my life is being connected to things that eminate from truth. A song that happened to the writer, a conversation that feels like sex, a taco made by the guy who believes that his taco IS the best one on the Westside.

I know when I write or sing s0mething that even has a sprinkling of bullshit – people don’t connect and I learn the lesson over and over again.  What’s tough is quieting the questions that make me second-guess my gut and say things or do things differently than my instinct tells me. I know this tango will never stop but I hope I’ll get less dizzy dancing it.

Speaking of pictures and tears…I think it’s time I get me to a museum to pry open my soul some more.

Sometimes a picture says it all.

So…here’s to taking life by the ball — to indulging in the things that speak directly to our truth. For if we do that, then what emerges there after is non-negotiable.

Today is day two of me sitting in a new office space. I decided to rent a desk inside an art studio that’s about 50 yards from the Pacific Ocean. When I breathe deep, I smell the sea along with … at this exact moment… incense. It’s coming from an older Indian man sitting nearby. He’s selling things. Shrunken heads, secrets.

I’m not sure how long I’ll be here — it’s a month to month agreement. I just wanted to get out of my home and studio and welcome a change of scenery for a few hours a day. The picture to the right is the view from my desk. I can see a sliver of the beach. I’m focused here, my laptop being the only toy luring me in. The energy outside is just enough to inject a little buzz, and that’s all I need. Off to work, per chance to dream.

It was getting weird there for awhile. Living and working in the same place, with little distraction for 15 months. Hours stretched out like gum on my shoe, and I started to fall out of love with my life. I knew I was lucky, abundant, bohemian, free — but my perspective was getting stale, and no Greek chorus was going to sing me out of my burning corner. So I spontaneously busted a move to rent this desk, and parachuted my way out of the house. Just in time.

I’m glad I’m here. Sure, where ever we go, there we are. Even for Julia Roberts, so I hear. But sometimes what we see can change the way we are, which ultimately is the experience of who we are.

Shaking things up a bit can bring back the mojo.  Just give 30 days notice