Atlanta iPhone Blog’s Neighborhood

The Proust Questionnaire

Tiffany introduced it to me, via Jason via Anna. (And Sam begat William and William begat..)

I like these types of exercises, especially when I'm foggy and panicked generally unclear (as this Monday morning finds me).  The Proust questionnaire is named for the French writer Marcel Proust, serving as the inspiration for more introspective interviews, an exercise in self exploration and a peak into the true motivations of the people providing the answers.

1. What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Emotional health and physical health, the ability to cover my expenses without any great anxiety, knowing without hesitation that I am loved, supported and valued by the people I love, support and value...and the freedom to create things with my own two hands.   

2. What is your greatest fear?
That the things currently causing me grief, will never pass. That this, right now, is all there is to life.   

3. What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
My fear of inadequacy.  

4. What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Cowardice.

5. Which living person do you most admire?
My aunt Elizabeth. She finds the growth in every challenge. She does amazing things but remains incredibly humble. She can hug you and reduce you to tears just from the love coming from her pores. She sees the best in you and never lets you deny that it is there. She finds joy and beauty in the things many take for granted. She's faced incredible adversity with the courage of a lion and never reduces herself to bitterness. She loves hard, thinks unselfishly, fights for what she believes in and...she's just a wonder.

6. What is your greatest extravagance?
Art supplies.

7. What is your current state of mind?
Afraid. Confused. Scattered. Isolated.   

8. What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Chastity. But only because of the other recognized virtues, it is the one least inclined to impede your ability to be a healthy, happy, productive individual. I know lots of people that ain't "chaste" but live life with fulfillment and purpose.
   
9. On what occasion do you lie?
When I'm afraid that the truth is going to really hurt someone with no positive consequence, self included.
   
10. What do you most dislike about your appearance?
My stomach.
   
11. Which living person do you most despise?
Well, there are a lot of people I don't like. The world is chock full of regrettable people. Though I find it more often to be a curse more than a blessing, I can sympathy or empathy for most. The living person I most despise right now might be Rush Limbaugh. He's dangerous and stirs unscrupulous passions for his own amusement. That sort of small minded deviance works on my ability to think kind thoughts.  

12. What is the quality you most like in a man?
Integrity. Not just one's ability to speak truthfully, but to do so at the cost of your own comfort and ease. Someone that is willing to be seen for who they are. To stand in their truth and not the shadow of what they want others to believe they are.  

13. What is the quality you most like in a woman?
Grace. The ability to consider feelings and actions with wisdom and well being and to act gracefully even when it might be difficult to do so.   

14. Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
I can't.
   
15. What or who is the greatest love of your life?
My dog. I can always count on her to love me, tend to my wounded feelings and remind me that there's a being out here that will always give as much as or more than she takes. My childhood best friend, Jameel. Over thirty years and going strong. He's been the only one to always be there, to protect me on those occasions I couldn't protect myself and to keep all of my truest thoughts, fears and feelings safe and secure. He's probably the only person I've known that closely or long who has never snatched the rug out from under me.  

16. When and where were you happiest?
The day I graduated from college and saw absolute blissful joy and delight on my father's face, knowing I had everything to do with it. A time long ago when I thought I was in love with someone just as in love with me. While everything else is in that story is but a work of fiction, that feeling I had was truer than most anything I've ever experienced. And I try to remain grateful for it.

17. Which talent would you most like to have?
The ability to read minds.
   
18. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
My tendency toward self-preoccupation.   

19. What do you consider your greatest achievement?
I think that's yet to be discovered.

20. If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?
An eagle. (feathers, not helmets)   

21. Where would you most like to live?
Sometimes I think New Mexico. Loads of pottery there, lots of ceramic inspiration, still away from the hustle and bustle of life in a city. Places I would spend a year or two? London. Toronto. New Zealand. Portugal.

22. What is your most treasured possession?
My laptop. 

23. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
A life with no other passion but material gain or personal recognition. 

24. What is your favorite occupation?
Potter. Followed by writer.

25. What is your most marked characteristic?
I honestly don't know. I don't trust that I've ever had a clear lens for how others see/observe me.

26. What do you most value in your friends?
Their sincerity.

27. Who are your favorite writers?
Neil Gaiman, Octavia Butler, Pearl Cleage, Paulo Coehlo, C.S. Lewis, Anchee Min, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Maya Angelou

28. Who is your hero of fiction?
Ellen Ripley from the Alien series.

29. Which historical figure do you most identify with?
I don't think I know enough about the inner workings of any historical figure to say who that person would be.

30. Who are your heroes in real life?
The people who are driven each and every day to the commitment of human services, community service and charitable efforts.

And before I begin let me qualify my thoughts as I am a Cancerian and emotionally-driven person who cries when she's happy, cries when she's said and many times feels first and thinks second.

Don't make sensitivity a weapon.

I'm all for explaining to people that you may potentially be thin-skinned and making requests to consider your heart before entering into a potentially combustible dialogue. At all times we should take into consideration how our thoughts and expressions of them may make others feel. A defensive maneuver will almost always beget a defensive maneuver. It's the fundamental rule to conflict. You hit me, it hurts. I hit back, you hurt and the dance escalates until two people are saying or doing regrettable things. Rather than using your sensitivity as a license to kill, use it as a means to find more productive ways to speak with love. Rather than letting your sensitivity give you an unrealistic sense of entitlement and petulant expectation, try and commit to the notion that it always takes two parties to create a disagreeable relationship conflict. You are hurt...in some ways big or small, they are likely hurting, too.

Don't make sensitivity a wall to constructive criticism.

There comes a time in every adult's life when you have to suck it up and face tough talk. Especially when the tough talk potentially saves you from a choice, an action or measure that could have long-term or especially painful consequences. While I am sensitive, I expect and almost demand that the people I love, give it to me straight, particularly when I screw something up. Because I am human. I am going to do that. And yes, you can give straight talk without pulling out the clubs and knives. So keep in mind that sometimes when people speak sternly to you, it is more important to identify the value in their statement...especially when you know behind the annoyance that statement is coming from a place of love. It's nice to hear only about the wonderful things we do; but it's better to hear about the ways we can grow and elevate to keep amazing ourselves and others. Never use your 'sensitivity' as a means to avoid owning your stuff.

And you know how I feel about owning your stuff. 

Hey there friends. Yes, it's that time of year again. The time when I post photos of my clay babies and announce I'm selling them on the innurnets.

I try to limit how often I do these updates here, especially since I have a pottery blog that I use neglect for those purposes. But I did want to share my progress with you because I figured you'd like to see them I could use the supplemental income.

I've graduated to lids, casserole dishes and bigger bowls and plates. We're moving on up.

To ooh and ahh, see below. To shop, you can find me here.

When we quit thinking primarily about ourselves and our own self-preservation, we undergo a truly heroic transformation of consciousness. - Joseph Campbell

This summer, I accepted a co-executive director position with a arts-based non-profit. Before you go throwing confetti in my face, let me first clarify some things.

I still have my previous position with my current employer.
This position feeds my soul and not my wallet.

Now, proceed with the confetti. *dons protective garb*

Today, I visited an African American museum and cultural center here in Austin, TX to speak with their director about bringing our two missions together. It went swimmingly. As soon as I have more details firmed you'll be hearing a lot more about this next project but for now I just have to tell you...

The minute I left my meeting today, I remembered everything I have loved about community engagement. I was energized, alive, empowered and nearly intoxicated off of the joy of knowing we might just play a positive part in the development and artistic awareness of under-served children. It reminded me as I raced home on a brilliantly crisp fall morning in Austin, there is no greater satisfaction than the service we can offer to others. No matter how big or small.

It also reminded me just how much joy is a state of mind. A perspective. A lens. It cannot be found in wealth or things. But it can be found in giving of yourself for reasons that don't have a thing to do...with you.

• As lovely and empowering as thoughts are...thinking less from time to time lets something else...something spiritually powerful, in.

• There is incredible strength to found in vulnerability, but to experience it - you have to have the courage to accept your own weakness.

• People who truly love you will want to support you - but it's still up to you to tell them what you need. We truly do get by with a little help from our friends.
  

• The biggest truths are usually stated in ten words or less.

• No one can wrestle that truth from you - except of course...you.

 
This year has been hard. So hard in ways I don't always put in this space. Not just for me but for many around me...which makes it even more arduous. Despite this, I'm beginning to understand how much beauty there is in struggle. Not during the moments of anxiety but during those breaks in the action when you connect, when you love and you remember that you are loved in return. The tenderness you sometimes take for granted becomes the armor you use to fight another day.

Last week, the only place I could find some peace was under the spray of water in my shower stall. I stood there, longer than I normally would, letting hot water mingle with frustrated tears. Perhaps it was because my bathroom felt especially snug and warm; its enclosed space reminding me of a safety I haven't felt in what is now nearly three years. Maybe it was the healing power of water and the sound of it's falling giving me temporary privacy. Perhaps it was because my physical nudity made every part of me feel stripped. Whatever it was, in that moment I could admit in that shower that I was beaten. Physically, mentally and emotionally. Afraid. Faithless. Struggling to make a path to connect with a source of clarity that I usually keep tabs on. I spoke the words aloud..."I need help because I am so lost."

By the time I got out of the shower I was shriveled and shivery...but emptied of the contents making my belly a never-ending stew. As I crawled into bed and said prayers to whatever spiritual power you wish to call it, I made it clear that I understood that none of this stuff was going to magically be resolved by the might of my own hand or the might of my intellect or even my wayward ego. I was going to require some signs and assistance. Some spiritual intervention. And I had every intention on shutting up with my antics until it was revealed to me.

Revelations don't come with a trumpet blare or call for attention. They slip in quietly and wait to be acknowledged. Thankfully, they're willing to hang around until you extract your head from your tail so that you may see them.

Tonight, I rest well with clarity. I know I am loved. I know I have been loved.  know that I am safe, even when flying blind. And I can find the beauty in all things big and small. Life can be good.

...Even when it's choking the crap out of you.

I've never been ashamed to fall flat on my face.

My Dad when I was little struggled to stay angry with me when I turned in a poor performance at school. By the time he got home, I had constructed my five page presentation on where I dropped the ball and how I was going to improve. So many times, the practice sermon he intended to deliver wound up becoming, "Okay. Good. Don't let it happen again."

I've never been afraid to go after what I want (professionally,creatively)...because I figure the worst that might happen is I'll be denied. But I'll never be denied for a lack of trying. I'm willing to work. I'm willing to fail. I'm willing to admit to you I failed. So long as I can also admit I learned something in the process.

But what happens socially? What happens when that fall on your face translates to a lack a self-worth? A big kick me sign on your back that says "I am largely undesirable because of *insert name of person or social event here.*" There's nothing worse then having to eat a little crow.

So what happens then? You busy yourself with trying to smack lipstick on the pig to save face until the pig runs away in the middle of the night with your cosmetics bag...or you own up to the fact that you are human and fallible and bask in the warmth and completion that comes with OWNING YOUR SHIT and building a deeper level of intimacy with yourself and others. Chasing pigs around might be fun for a moment...but you wind up ultimately looking like a bigger fool. Owning your shit? That's how you REALLY earn cool points.

You cannot help a (person, organization, group) if the Querent doesn't first give you an idea of how they need your help.

Last night, after listening to Mecca toss and turn with itchy ears and paws, I got up and tended her itchiness as best I could until she was comfortably snoring again. When I returned to bed, she was comforted and I was thoroughly entrenched in monkey mind, sorting through the list of things currently worrying me. Some of the items on that list are mine. Some of the items are not mine.

My stream of conscious went something like this:

"....what if mecca has a more serious issue than itching....whew, she's getting up there in age...I can't fathom saying goodbye to her...I wonder what the utility bill looks like this month...wonder if I can manage that in this pay period...not making enough money...need to review the budget again...can't believe the number of gray hairs I'm seeing...did I work out enough this week...I hate grocery shopping...I need to finish that report...how am I gonna complete these writing assignments...I hope _____ isn't pissed that I bailed on that meeting...I'm such a horrible friend/sister/daughter/worker...are all these natural disasters a sign of the end of the world...I need more music...why am I resenting so many people in my life right now for their inability to bring me peace....goddamn I feel so lonely right now...I need to trim mecca's nails...I need to mow the lawn...is that someone hitting the front door...what if someone tries to break in and kill us in our sleep...I don't do the roommate thing well...how in the hell am I going to pay for ...?"

Right now, I am in crisis mode. This is not perilous. Hell, it's a recession, professionally, personally or otherwise - we ALL are in crisis mode about something these days. But this mode forces me to review my own effectiveness. It also makes me realize that I can only lend help when I understand clearly what it is I can do to actually help.  I'm at a crossroads with a project and I'm experiencing a lot of inner turmoil about it. I've got lots of lofty ideas and plans and simply not enough time to implement them. It's a cause I want to lend myself to greatly. But at the moment, all of my energy has to be focused to keeping my ship afloat which means, the only falling apples or holes in the dam I can devote emergency resources to...are my own. I can provide structured help if I'm working on something that has structure intact. Without that, you're asking me to stack apples on moving wagon. It's a horrific waste of time when time is a resource most of us can ill afford to waste.

I also need to be honest with others and myself about what I really and truly have the mental, physical and emotional resources to take on at this point. And that might be the hardest part of all. Realizing you might have bitten off more than you can chew and having to admit that to your studio audience when they have rested so much hope and expectation on your ability to pull a rabbit out of your hat.

I'm starting to think the remedy for sleep might just be taking away some of pins I'm trying to juggle. Either that, or use one of the pins to beat myself unconscious. Thank God I'm a lover, not a fighter.

Of all the apartments I've ever had, it was my favorite.

On the corner of 15th and Green Street, I lived in the penthouse apartment. Vaulted ceilings and a loft bedroom that faced a spiral staircase. At the top of that spiral staircase was the roof of the three story brownstone I called home. On nights when my roommate wasn't coming home, I would climb that spiral staircase, sneak out onto that roof and watch the city of Philadelphia glow above and beneath me.

In the summer there was always a haze. But in winter? Winter skies were so clear the stars became palpable. And so I reached for them. Fingers splayed as I stretched, I let cold wind take my breath away until I was numb. As I imagined someone somewhere doing just the same, I was the happiest I have ever been in my life. No one knew why. I smiled a chesire cat grin, content to share my secrets only with the sky.

In whispered conversations, rambling words that read like chapters in a book and flurries of dreams and thoughts I never thought I was allowed to have...I found magic. And magic found me.

And that is what I choose to remember when everything else fades with time. Some things are simply mine to keep.