Where do these crazy ideas come from?
There’s a safety in thinking in a diner. You can have your coffee or your milk shake, and you can go off into strange dark areas, and always come back to the safety of the diner. That’s David Lynch sharing his insight into the creative process. Anyone who’s ever left a work project and gone out to sit alone in a restaurant to clear her or his head will recognize it as a gem. It’s one of many contained in this book.
Reprinted as a Tenth Anniversary Edition, it might be more relevant today than ever. Creativity seems to be one of the victims of the money-first, electronic world we live in. It is becoming artisanal, a scarce and illusive commodity. A gift which everyone is born with, most people today have less access to their creative component than their great grandparents did.
David Lynch’s creative credentials are impeccable. I know this first hand. (My personal favorite is Twin Peaks. Sorry, big screen buffs.) To follow Lynch as he meanders through his process is a privilege and a gift. NOTE TO MILLENIALS: Think Steve Jobs and work backwards. SHOP FOR THE BOOK
© 2016 Anna Jedrziewski and InannaWorks.com
My first thought when I heard was, “How could you leave us now when we need you the most?”
Selfish, self-serving, and short-sighted though it was, it was also reflective of the climate that followed the presidential election. And, as it turned out, Gwen was there for us as she has been for decades, to light the path ahead for those who choose to see beyond the drama that continues to keep the masses mesmerized.
I got a knot in my stomach when I noticed her absence on election eve. And Judy Woodruff’s grief stricken face as PBS Newshour acknowledged her passing, reflected my feelings on her loss completely, without a word needeing to be spoken.
Then I realized that sitting in her seat was a next-generation, male immigrant, Hari Sreenivasan. His low-key confidence bespoke the fact that he had earned that chair according to Gwen’s standards — and her choice did her proud as the Newshour began a sad but positive transition to the next level.
In a time when the news media seems to have sunk to a new low, Gwen’s hundreds of mentees stepped forward to speak of her, without exception, in terms of their personal loss (rather than their self-engrandizement) and the legacy they valued and hoped to live up to.
As all this unfolds, I can’t help but wonder how equality in this country might be different if Whitney Young had been healthier and able to continue his fight for equality in the boardroom. But that’s another PBS story.
Lastly, I come to realize that when I turned on the PBS Newshour, I didn’t do so thinking that I was supporting a female journalist or an Afro-American journalist. I relaxed as I tuned PBS in and let my guard down to listen to a woman whom I trusted to tell me her observations honestly and from a thoroughly researched perspective. May those she gave a leg up to continue to honor her by measuring the job they do according to her standards — until they develop standards that surpass hers. (And that would be the greatest way to honor her.)
Godspeed on the next leg of your journey, Gwen. I am so grateful that you touched my life for as long as you did. We will miss you. But then, you’re not really gone, are you?
MESSAGE FROM THE GUIDES… Turmoil comes in the wake of recent changes. Ignore the chaos. Do your own thing and wait for it to be over.
The creative altars throughout the Village last weekend inspired James Lotus of 11th Street Gallery to create a special altar project. He began making small wooden altars on posts and distributing them through the Village. So far he’s got twelve of them up. If you stop by the gallery he’ll give you a map that shows where they are located.
The Village of the Arts is getting more exciting everyday!
MESSAGE FROM THE GUIDES: This week’s super full moon is sending lots of creative, mysterious energy to the earth. Soak up the creative, mysterious vibrations when they are at their peak Sunday night and Monday.
This weekend’s Day of the Skeleton celebration in the Village of the Arts was a huge success. The annual homage to those on the other side has been increasing in popularity every year. Word seems to still be spreading because the turnout was super terrific this year!
Parade-sized puppets were better than ever.
The altars to the dead — some inside, some outside — get more creative each year.
Baobab Tree’s altar for Gordon, who crossed just last month, was particularly poignant. He is missed, but so present in every corner of the gallery.
The common Village altar paid tribute to David Bowie this year, an electrifying choice and perfect finale!
THE GUIDES SAY: It’s a new year and a new start. Make the most of it. Begin now. Claim your right to the power which is now emerging and use it wisely.
How do you feel about following Jesus’ example?
For Sister Teresa it was always personal. “I don’t like people to send me something because they want to get rid of it. Giving is something different. It is sharing.” She helped people because they were there and needed her help, not because she was engaged in the business of helping. It brought her challenges from the establishment but it also brought the love of people around the world. And now it has brought her sainthood.
This Commemorative Edition of Mother Teresa’s book, first published in 1995, includes a forward by Thomas Moore and a reprint of the homily delivered in 2003 by Pope John Paul II at her Beatification Mass. The heart of the book remains, however, Mother Teresa’s words of explanation and exhortation. Schooled by Jesuits and initiated into religious life by the the Sisters of Our Lady of Loreto, she was called again and again to more advanced challenges as she offered herself in service and learned from her devoted endeavors. In a way it is all brought full circle as she is made a saint by Jesuit Pope Francis. It seems, perhaps, a Thank You from the other side for the spiritual foundation she was given and on which she built so magnificently
This is the first time I’ve read this book. The first edition was sometimes referred to as naive in its basic philosophy. To the contrary, I thought as I read. She has a unique and driving clarity about the essence of Jesus’ teachings. Devoid of religious trappings, her words speak more powerfully today than ever about the universal principles of simple Love that lights the way.
© 2016 Anna Jedrziewski and InannaWorks.com
Dare you look into the eyes of your own death?
Poet-philosopher Cheng tells us that death is a part of life, and that life-time-death are inextricably merged, much as we might struggle against that. Thus bodily death, which has become such a terror to most of us, is necessary for life—and for gratitude for the gift of life. He references Etty Hillesum, who before her death in the gas chamber at Auschwitz, wrote in her journal: “…by excluding death from our life, we deprive ourselves of a complete life, and by welcoming it, we enlarge and enrich our life.”
Make no mistake, this is not a morbid text requiring that we face the inevitable. It is rather a testament to life and an exploration of what gives life meaning.
It can be viewed as synchronicitous that this book has been released at a time when facing death has become an unavoidable topic around the world. It is almost constantly in the media at the moment, and as journalists and talking heads search for new ways to talk about what is happening at an alarmingly increasing rate, they are also stumbling across keys to giving meaning to death beyond the mundane experience and the power that it summons as a weapon in the material world.
Written in soaring language, filled with poetry from across the ages, Cheng begins by describing himself as coming from the tribe of the damned, the have-nots. The five meditations were originally presented orally and maintain that interactive quality within the printed words. Readers engage in exploration with Cheng rather than being passively informed by him.
I have spent the last few weeks crying, raging, and trying to make some sense of what I am seeing on TV. The review copy of this book seemed to call to me from the pile it was in. I feel as if it is a gift from the heavens. I won’t pretend that I think I understand what it really means or the impact that it will have on my life. I recognize it as an invitation to transcend the chaos in the world and search for better answers. SHOP FOR THE BOOK
© 2016 Anna Jedrziewski and InannaWorks
Spirit Connection New York extends our condolences, prayers, and healing thoughts to the people of Orlando. We pray that the victims of this tragedy find their way quickly and safely to the other side.
I, personally, call on everyone to ponder on the fact that this nightmare was deliberately visited on both the LGBT and Latino communities. May the thoughts that fueled this attack be tempered, healed, and transformed.
Bridges not walls. May peace and love prevail.
I planted a small Blue Daze at the front of Goddess Garden about a year ago. When I got back to town this time, it was almost a goner. I started watering it every morning and slowly it began producing new leaves. This morning it surprised me with SIX little blue flowers!
Six is the number of serenity. Blue flowers are said to be miraculous. I’ve been feeling a lot of stress since I’ve been back because it seems like there is more that needs done can I can manage, and I’ve been telling the guides and the faeries that I need a miracle. It looks like one is on the way. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
The birds in the cage attached to my back fence seem to have survived the horrific deluge that we had last night.
Someone suggested that they are fighting cocks being raised for that awful, illegal enterprise. Meanwhile, it looked like whoever had added wood to the top of the cage to shelter them from the rain.
But a closer look suggests that they were just dumping more waste. Did I mention that this is the utility easement?
When I got back to Florida, I was greeted by the faeries and Mr. Beyer’s bright pink lilies. It was a nice welcome home.
There were also lots of the little bushes of white flowers that the butterflies and honey bees love. I call them wildflowers. Most Floridians refer to them as weeds. I’ve been pulling them out of the flower beds and yard since I got here, leaving a few clusters here and there for the bees.
I planted five little palm tree sprouts when I was here last time and they seemed to be off to a good start. Only two of them survived the dry spell without me, however. Fortunately, there are plenty of new sprouts around the yard thanks to our industrious squirrel population. I’ve transplanted three new ones so far.
I also divided the old oleander in the front bed and planted half of it in the spot where the newer one used to be. That one was killed by the drug dealers with transmission fluid, you remember. We’ll hope they leave this one alone.
The original oleander is thirty years old, but I trimmed it up and we’ll see if it has a few more years left in it. It’s an original old Florida version, the kind that makes seed pods, not a newer hybrid. I’m hoping I can salvage both chunks of it.
On Friday, I realized that the dead foliage on the Sabal Palm at the back of the property was a fire hazard with everything so dry. I headed back to clean it up and discovered that someone had attached a chicken coop to my back fence.
And they bent the fence rail to do it.
I knew the faeries were a bit out of sorts when I arrived but I was too tired and busy to think about why. Now I know what they are upset about. Aside from the vandalism to my fence, and the obvious health hazards, these poor birds are out in that cage in 90° heat!!! I cleared the tinder from my palm tree and went back to pulling weeds in the front bed. Gardening is supposed to be relaxing, isn’t it?