A Loss for Words

There are only so many words. My blog name is inspired by that idea. Sometimes we use the same word for a multitude of occurrences, regardless of how much sense it makes. I think a really good example of that is the word loss.

Merriam-Webster provides these examples of usage:

1. The storm caused widespread loss of electricity.
2. The company's losses for the year were higher than expected.
3. A careless error resulted in the loss of the game.
4. The team suffered a 3–2 loss in the last game.
5. The team has an equal number of wins and losses.
6. the party's losses in the recent election

And then there is the other way to use it, as in, "I am so sorry for your loss." Or, "I am sorry that you lost someone important to you." So, you can lose a game, your electricty, an election, money, and a person? Why don't we have better word?

Today my brother would be twenty-four. I lost him over 13 years ago. Except that I didn't. It wasn't me who misplaced him like a set of keys or a wallet. He died suddenly and brutally, and the impact that has had on my life is not something I get to lose.

Sometimes I feel betrayed by language. I wish there was a verb that could encompass the real pain and misery that people go through when someone they love is suddenly gone. We want to say as survivors that they have been taken from us, yet that doesn't sound quite right either. No one took my brother. I have already tried to blame every imaginable element involved: wind, ice, darkness, big trees, the heaviness of metal. None of these forces had answers or even cared how angry I was with them.

So today I am searching for a word, or even a set of words, that can take the place of that paltry, 4-letter representation for the way I feel. Because for me, and plenty of other people out there, it just isn't cutting it.

Happy Birthday, Brother.

<3, Stephanie Pearl

Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.
- George Eliot

Francophilia

French poetry = one of the many reason that I am a Francophile. I had a friend read this poem to me out loud not too long ago, and I have been mildly obsessed with it ever since.  I love prose poetry in a skillful pair of hands; it is clear and powerful. The last stanza of this poem makes me want to fall to my knees and pull at my hair. Dramatic? Absolutely. Appropriate? I would like to think so. I hope your inner tortured artist/poet enjoys this as much as mine does.

<3, Stephanie Pearl

 

Artist's Confiteor by Charles Baudelaire

How poignant the late afternoons of autumn! Ah! poignant to the verge of pain, for there are certain delicious sensations which are no less intense for being vague; and there is no sharper point than that of Infinity.


What bliss to plunge the eyes into the immensity of sky and sea! Solitude, silence, incomparable chastity of the blue! a tiny sail shivering on the horizon, imitating by its littleness and loneliness my irremediable existence, monotonous melody of the waves, all these things think through me or I through them (for in the grandeur of reverie the ego is quickly lost!); I say they think, but musically and picturesquely, without quibblings, without syllogisms, without deductions.


These thoughts, whither they come from me or spring from things, soon, at all events, grow too intense. Energy in voluptuousness creates uneasiness and actual pain. My nerves are strung to such a pitch that they can no longer give out anything but shrill and painful vibrations.


And now the profound depth of the sky dismays me; its purity irritates me. The insensibility of the sea, the immutability of the whole spectacle revolt me… Ah! must one eternally suffer, or else eternally flee beauty? Nature, pitiless sorceress, ever victorious rival, do let me be! Stop tempting my desires and my pride! The study of beauty is a duel in which the artist shrieks with terror before being overcome.

The Cult of the Physical Book

I have a Kindle, and I love it. Yep. It is such a handy, little device. I use it to read manuscripts, alleviating my eyeballs from the harsh nature of the back lit screen of my computer.I use it to read books that I don't necessarily want sitting on my bookshelf, because everyone has their guilty pleasures, right? And, when I go on vacation, I only have to pack a couple of books in my suitcase instead of ten.

That is the funny part though; no matter what, I pack those couple of paperbacks. I would feel lost without the familiar sight of a book waiting for me with anticipation in my carry-on. Anyone who has gone on vacation with me knows that the perfect manifestation of time off for me is reading in the sun. I like the way a book smells when it has been warming in the sunshine. I love how the edges of a book get unruly and crackling as they dry and re-dry after each time a take a break to go swimming. This are all things that my Kindle can never give me. So when people ask me if I think that "physical books" will become obsolete in the next five years, I just smile and think about all of the people out there who are just like me. Books aren't only about content for us. They are a physical love affair, and the Kindle is (in my case at least) a convenient stand-in for the real deal.

I was reading an article a few days ago, and I came across a new phrase I hadn't seen yet: The Cult of the Physical Book. I found myself nodding my head and immediately performing a self-initiation into said cult. The gist was that as e-books overtake physical books on the market (which is happening, friends) the physical book will become more an objet d'art, if you will pardon my French. People will collect them in the same way people collect vinyls, regardless of how convenient their Ipod may be. This is wonderful news for those of us that need to smell  binding-glue, fresh ink, or dusty old paper to get by. There are even signs that independent and used bookstores are bouncing back, while the larger, super chains go out of business. Music to our bookish ears, no?

In my editing class the other day our teacher asked everyone who had an e-reader to raise their hands. It was just me and another guy who had the guts to do it. I received a few crusty looks from the purists in the room who feel that e-readers, and anyone who buys them, are destroying something they love. Two thoughts on this: first, I know there were more people in the class that have e-readers and were lying about it. Second, the future is happening people, whether we romantics like it or not. I own a Kindle because I accept that and want to be involved in publishing regardless of how it manifests in the future, not stuck in a room with all of my "real" books feeling angry and sad. But, regardless of my acceptance of this change, I will always have a healthy bookshelf full of physical books that I can caress and smell, and take on vacation with me, because there is never a real replacement for your first love, is there?

<3, Stephanie Pearl

p.s. What do you think? Are you looking forward to being a card-carrying member of the Cult of the Physical Book? Do you have an e-reader? Do you want to destroy Amazon and all it represents? Let me know.

Also, here is the article that I referenced:
http://www.forbes.com/sites/trevorbutterworth/2011/12/28/as-the-age-of-the-physical-book-retreats-the-cult-of-the-physical-book-advances/

Showing Up

As I mentioned in my last post, I am a big TED fan. TED is a nonprofit organization dedicated to what they have coined as "Ideas Worth Spreading". They have a vast array of videos you can watch on their site that are simply "riveting talks by remarkable people". The best part is that they are 100% free. In addition to the videos, they hold conferences, have events all over the world you can attend, and host what they call TED Conversations on their site, which is pretty much a discussion board where, for the most part, people bring their brains out to play.

Now that I am not in school, I feed on sites like TED. I love hearing new ideas or being presented with a challenging concept so I can do some mental weight-lifting every now and then. The other day I watched a video that featured Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray Love) speaking on the pitfalls of being an artist; namely, the pressure of creating something that lives up to your own personal expectations of a masterpiece, and the inevitable despair that follows once you have succeeded in doing so.

Now, I am not saying that Eat, Pray, Love was a masterpiece. I read it and enjoyed it, but once the masses caught on and middle-aged women started buying plane tickets to Italy and India, and Bali, it kind of grossed me out. The book was about listening to yourself, not about miming someone else's experiences in hopes of finding  your own personal truth. People missed the point. But as she  bravely observes in her talk, it is likely the most successful she will ever be; it was her masterpiece. That means that half way through her life she had  reached the top and there was nothing left to look forward to as an artist except disappointment. Or at least, that was what the evil voices inside her (and probably every artist's) head were telling here. She acknowledges that those thoughts and drinking gin before noon every day are closely related activities. Thus the modern picture of the tragic tortured artist emerges, unsure if they can ascend to such great heights yet again, so instead they self-destruct. I am sure if you think about it, you can name 10.

Her remedy for this? Stop taking all the credit for your work. In ancient Greece and Rome, genius was considered as an outside force. It was not a human attribute, but instead your genius was literally a spirit that lived in the walls of your workspace and would inhabit the artist as it chose. Sometimes your genius would pop in, and sometimes he wouldn't, but as an artist your job was to show up for work everyday just in case it was your lucky day, and your brush or instrument or hands were to be moved by the spirit of creativity that you had very little control over.

This idea might sound a little out there to our modern sensibilities, but I have to admit that I really relate to it. Haven't you had a moment where it feels like an idea falls out of the sky or suddenly appears in your head and you weren't sure where it came from? Writing is like that. I have heard from many musician friends that music is like that. How else do we explain 4-year-old kids playing guitar like virtuosos if there isn't some outside force at work? And haven't you experienced a moment of transcendence watching a musician or dancer or poet perform? You know the feeling. Goosebumps, hair on the back of your neck standing up. There is something otherworldly about it.

I think that by acknowledging that we are simply acting as conduits for this creative force, we can began to take some of the pressure off ourselves and help to change the modern idea of what genius looks like; I would like to shoot for inspired instead of burdened. Tom Waits (one of my personal heroes) is a proponent for this approach. He tells a story about driving in L.A.  traffic and having an beautiful melody pop into his brain. Unfortunately he had no means of writing it down. His response? He looked up in the sky and cursed his genius with the words, "Can't you see I'm busy. Come back at a time where I can give you proper attention, or just leave me alone!" Then he just kept on driving.

I love this story. I am going to do this same thing next time I have an idea for a character or situation pop into my brain while I am drunk at a bar or in bed with my husband. Hopefully I won't scare anyone. But more importantly, I am going to show up to work more often, pen in hand, so that I am ready when my genius decides to grace me with its presence. And if I miss it, I will smile, knowing that the idea is not lost, but simply being deposited into another writer's brain who  did show up to work that day.


<3, Stephanie Pearl

Here is the link for Elizabeth Gilbert's talk. If you consider yourself an artist, I suggest watching it. It has its cheesy bits, but the overall message is really thought provoking. And by all means, spend some time on TED. You won't regret it.

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html

Shining a light

I sat down in front of my computer today feeling mighty uninspired. And what a strange way for me to be feeling. I spent the weekend around great friends while we watched one amongst us step up and take on his dream. We could all feel the significance of the moment and are excited to see him get out there and kick ass. In short, my life is full of people I find inspiring.

Still, sometimes my personal banks run low...

I started surfing around on the web in search of some creative food and remembered an organization two ladies in my editing class were talking about called 826 Seattle. It is an offshoot of 826 Valencia, started in San Francisco by Dave Eggers (A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius). I knew only the basics of how the organization works, so I found their website and started poking around. That then led me to TED (if you don't know about TED, please check it out!) and a video of Dave Eggers talking about his experience with the 826 project. That is the video above. If you haven't watched it yet, watch it now. I am guessing that if you take the time to read my blog, you have at least a mild interest in literature or education. And hopefully a sense of humor. Those are qualities that ensure me that you need to see that video if you haven't already.

....................

Ok, now you have seen the video and, of course, laughed and cried a few times like I did, I can get to my point. In the past few months I have talked to a some folks about my take on the power of undivided attention between two humans: eye contact, focused and active listening, all that good stuff. It is something that we are losing so quickly in our day-to-day. There is always a distraction, always a background noise, always a low hum of status updates and photo sharing that vies for our attention. Our increased online presence has seriously tapped into our good old physical presence. It is such a drastic change in out behavior, and I don't think the results are all positive.

I think we have to keep talking to each other. And to kids most importantly. It makes such a difference. I love how Eggers describes it as "shining a light on" another human being. I volunteered in a homework center and as a writing tutor last year in an elementary school, and that is exactly what it felt like. I made a real change in a young girl's life and that is not me bragging. It is me sharing what two hours of your time a week can do for another person. Combine that with the power of the written word and the ability to self-express, and these kids might have a shot of undoing some of the crazy we've gotten ourselves into.

Words Create Worlds by Arkady Zaifman

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I am going to start volunteering for 826 Seattle. I will let you know how that goes here on the blog. I need the inspiration. I am also going to throw it out there that if you know you have even an hour or two a month that you can give to a young mind, think about doing it. Because while our world goes to hell in a hand basket, and everyone keeps searching for the answers, I can't help but wonder if it is  actually as simple as pulling our eyes of all the screens and shiny things every now and then, and looking and listening to each other again.

Stepping down from the soapbox for now, but if you are curious, do a little research:

http://www.826seattle.org/about/

http://onceuponaschool.org/

http://826national.org/

xo, Stephanie Pearl



Flying

Home. The past two weeks have been eventful, visually and mentally inspiring, and comforting all at the same time. Experiencing  new things in Nicaragua with new(er) friends, and then spending time with very familiar people in very familiar places in Florida created an interesting tension within me that I am currently sorting through as I sit here in my chaotic, exploded-suit-case-filled apartment in Seattle. What an interesting world we live in that we can pull our bodies through space and time so quickly, dropping onto far-flung places on the map, and then hurtling through the sky to find ourselves at another spot in the same day. My body has traveled nearly 10,000 miles in 2 weeks time. Incredible.

When I boarded the plane in Managua (Nicaragua's capital city) I found myself in an aisle seat with a native Nicaraguan boy at the window. The seat between us was empty. I didn't expect much conversation on the flight, as my Spanish is limited, but just as I was cozying in and letting my eyes droop, he surprised me with a question in perfect, unaccented American English:

"Would you mind if we switched seats? I hate sitting by the window."

Now, when does that ever happen? In my world, the window is the coveted position, because the middle is obviously hell, and the aisle, though convenient for the bathroom, usually results in getting plowed into by the beverage cart or some girthy passenger making their way through. So, of course I said yes.

Relishing my new-and-improved position, I pulled out my Kindle, planning on finishing my book in the three-hour flight time to Houston. About two pages through, with the plane beginning to taxi, I looked over at my aisle-mate and saw that he was unaccustomed to the world of flying: he was gripping the seat for all his hands were worth and was visibly sweating and shaking.

Now, in these instances, there are two options. I think the majority of people would probably just look away and try to spare the poor teenage kid a little embarrassment. But, I am not most people.

"Hey, you going to be OK?" I inquired.

"I really hate flying," came his adamant response.

Gee, I never would have guessed.

So, I launched into my standard I've done this a million times, and flying is safer than blah blah blah speech.We have all heard it. As the plane began to take off, I realized this  was not working on said poor soul, who simply looked me in the eye and said, "I am really scared."

You don't hear that very often from anyone, let alone 16-year-old boys, right? Admitting that you are terrified out loud takes a certain amount of bravery, in my opinion. At that moment I realized I was sitting next to an interesting and perhaps exceptional character, so my curiosity sent me diving in. That, and I was worried he was going to rip the armrests off his seat if I didn't distract him. I have found that the best way to get someones mind of of something unpleasant is to get them to tell you a story. Their story. His blew me away.

J (as we will call him here) lives in Houston, and had spent the past two weeks in Nicaragua with his family. He wasn't there for Christmas, as I initially thought. He was there because his brother had been killed in an altercation at a bar on Christmas Eve. He came alone because his parents couldn't afford for everyone in the family to make it down, so they sent him as representation. He told me this with a straight face.

Now, I am not religious or anything, but often life presents me with circumstances like this that cause me to wonder what greater forces are at work. I mean, what are the odds that this boy would end up sitting next to me on a plane, coming from Nicaragua of all places, probably the only other person out of the 100 or so aboard who knows exactly how he is feeling? My brother died on Christmas, too. I immediately offered up this information, and he looked at me teary-eyed and tells me how sorry he is to hear that. I just took his hand and squeezed. It was really sweaty from all that armrest gripping. We sat that way for awhile, him demanding each time the engine made a new noise if everything was still normal, and I assuring him it was.

So, there we are 30,000 feet up, connected through the completely bizarre and painful circumstances life has dealt us, and he says to me, "Want to know why I am actually scared? I mean, I hate flying, but there is a reason that this flight is worse than usual. I don't want to scare you or anything, so I don't have to say if you don't want."

Scare me, kid? Come on.

"OK, I'll tell you. Sometimes I have these dreams. And then they come true. I had one about my brother before he died. And a few nights ago, I dreamed that this plane crashed. My grandparents prayed all day yesterday that it wouldn't happen, but I am not sure if it is going to work.

Uhhhhh.......fuck.

Sometimes life goes from normal, to sad, to scary, to funny so quickly. Here I am sitting next to a 16-year-old boy who knows what it feels like to have Christmas ruined forever, just like me, and who also has been burdened with dreams that you don't just wake up from and go on with your day normally afterwards, like me. And he tells me the plane is going down. All I could do was laugh.

"Well, if that is the case, " I responded, "we might as well enjoy this last hour or so, right?"


"Yah, that sounds good. I am glad I am sitting with you. Oh, and one other thing, in my dream there was a black guy sitting in between us, so since he isn't there, I think we might be OK."

Oh, life.

Happy New Year's to all. I have a lot of stories to tell, so check back with me.

<3, Stephanie Pearl

Happy Holidays from YISMW

Hello friends, family, and strangers,

I wanted to get one more blog post in before I take off for a couple weeks. My man and I are leaving on a jet plane tomorrow night, headed south to escape the grey. First stop, Nicaragua, where we will spend a week making merry with some good friends, celebrating Christmas with rum and lobster, and then bringing in the mister's 30th birthday on the 28th. I promised him the best birthday ever to take the sting out of 30, and I think I might have pulled it off.

Then, off to Florida for me, leaving him behind (in good hands) to get all his surfing itches scratched while I hang out with friends and family over New Year's. I am really excited.

(Eric Risberg/Associated Press)

I am going to take these next couple of weeks to do some thinking, and hopefully come up with answers to the questions I posed in my last post. I got some really encouraging feedback after writing it (even though I probably sounded like a huge whiner) and for that I am thankful. I had a friend ask me at a party the other night if I was going to quit this project, and I can assure you that I am not. I think I am just looking for a way to refine it, and maybe vacation from the day-to-day is just what I need to do that.

I hope every single one of you have a wonderful holiday. Appreciate your friends and family, enjoy the love, don't spend too much money, read a good book, maybe write down a few things, and just be merry.

<3, Stephanie Pearl