A top 9 list

If you've been reading this blog for awhile you know I like lists. Lists help me think in a more organized fashion, something I often need help with. This time of year lists are everywhere. They're inescapable. The artificial close of the year drives the media to produce Top 10 lists on a near-infinite variety of topics.

I wanted to write a top-ten list for 2009, but I kept stumbling. The last couple of months have been hard, so it's challenging to think of the top ten books/moments/films/creative endeavors/etc for the past year. What I keep coming back to are the things that I didn't enjoy about 2009 and would like to do differently next year.

I don't believe in dwelling on past crappy stuff; it gives it too much power and energy in your current life. I certainly don't manage to do this all the time and recognize that sometimes your old stuff just keeps getting in the way, but naming it and then moving on can provide a path forward. In that spirit, I was going to present my top ten list of things I can avoid in 2010.

Writing this list was unexpectedly hard. While 2009 was tough I learned so much that I found it challenging to really come up with stuff I regret about the year. So this led me to the following, which I think is ultimately much more important. Try it yourself, you might be surprised.

Top 9 unexpected gifts of 2009

1. The written word. I have returned to writing this year with a passion I thought I had lost. In no small part I have this blog to thank for it.
2. The importance of self-care has been borne home quite dramatically. I really, really get it now. I'm working on it, though the question remains - how do I take better care of myself without stressing over it?
   
3. Silence. Sometimes being confronted with myself, with the ticking clock, with the hum of the world is the best possible thing.
   
4. The grace of a good death.
5. The purity of grief. The understanding that love yields grief and is worth it.
6. The intricacies and meditations of small tasks - chopping, sorting, digging, walking.
7.  Discovering that I am more capable than I feared. Remembering that fear is feeling like any other.
8. Remembering that I can make better choices. Making a bad choice and taking note of it so I can do better next time. Beckett had it right, though he may not agree with my context.*
9. Completion and knowing when to let go, whether a life, an art project, or a list.

I hope your year was full of gifts and that the coming year give you light, creativity and joy. May you notice the gifts when they are offered.

*Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.
 
(c)2009 Laura S. Packer

Friday Fiction: How to tell the future

Part 1
For eleven year old girls

What sleepover is complete without a good ghost story? Well ladies, this goes even further, here’s how to summon the ghost of Bloody Mary herself! All you need is a candle, matches (you can get those from Mom’s purse) and a bathroom with a mirror.

This works best if you do it at midnight, as close to witching hour as possible. Every girl should be in her nightgown, teeth brushed, hair in curlers and ready for a good scare.

Gather in the bathroom and turn out the lights. Take a moment in the dark. Some of you might giggle, but remember, you are summoning the dead – this is serious business!

Light the candle. Be careful not to light your hair, Aqua Net is highly flammable. The most timid of you may want to stand watch and give warning if an adult or older brother should pass nearby.

The bravest girl should hold the candle in her left hand and stand in front of the mirror.

Together, everyone must chant “Bloody Mary” ten times. Blow out the candle and look into the mirror.

Some people say Bloody Mary will appear in the mirror, dressed in red and dripping gore, ready to answer your questions about the future. Others say she’ll appear to tear the eyes out of the closest girl, as retribution for disturbing her rest. No one knows for sure. The question is, are you brave enough to find out?

Part 2
For women of a certain age

First, try not to be too surprised when the moment comes, when you want to know with such
ferocity it consumes you. The question will vary – it might be about children or career or secret longings or something less expected, but it will be there and it will sear you.

Second, don’t waste much time denying your need for an answer. No matter what the question, the need for the answer may matter more than the answer itself.

Third, and everyone does this, talk it out with your girlfriends. They will each answer differently and each will be wrong. Don’t be distressed, they're doing the best they can. The wisest one might refuse to answer and instead will direct you to me.

Because, fourth, you will come eventually to me. I will not give you the answer either, though I’ll shuffle the cards and give veiled hints; it’s never clear. If I like you very much and see the right kind of hope in your eyes, I will suggest the -

Fifth. Go home. Turn off the lights. Light a candle and gaze at your reflection in the mirror for a long, long time. Remember, mirrors used to be sacred; we dismiss them too easily now. Wait. See what happens. Welcome whoever appears and who you are when the candle burns out.

(c)2009 Laura S. Packer

Finally! I finished it!

I've written before about the need to break our own boundaries in order to stretch creatively. There are all kinds of ways you can do this so I urge you to do something new - draw with crayons, knit, scribble, doodle, play with clay, something.

I make collages, usually out of paper and other media.

I finally finished an ambitious shadowbox project, my own cabinet of curiosities. It's taken me far longer than I expected to complete because I gave myself some fairly rigorous guidelines for completion.

• the objects in the shadowbox had to be found. I broke that rule only once. Can you guess what the one purchased object is?
• the arrangement of the objects had to fit within some fluid and arcane rules I made up as I went along
• and nothing could extend further than the edge of the box, so it could be enclosed by a sheet of plexiglass.

I'm really pleased with it. If you want to see more detail you can go to the flickr image. I'd love to see some of your creative endeavors, please send or post links in the comments section!

I'm working on my next cabinet of curiosities, this one with a more concrete theme and limited scope. I'm hoping to have an exhibit of assemblage art sometime in 2010, I'll keep you posted.

(c)2009 Laura S. Packer

Ten things you can tell a story about

I regularly get one of two responses when I tell people I'm a storyteller. They either say, "You're a what? So you read to kids?" Or they say, "Cool! I could never do that."

To the first response I take a deep breath, smile and explain that, while reading to kids is great and important, I tell stories, mostly to grown-ups. The conversation can go in many different directions from there and, if I'm lucky, it leads to a really good discussion. It often does.

It's the second response that I love, because it gives me a chance to do a magic trick. Everyone is a storyteller; if you've read this blog before you already know that. You may not be a performing artist, you may never stand on a stage nor have any desire to, but we all tell stories. It's a crucial part of how people understand their lives and connect with others. The magic trick is helping someone see that the everyday communication they already engage in is really storytelling and how, if they wanted, they could expand on it and tell a more polished story.

All I do is this:

• I talk about storytelling as part of every day life
• Then I let the conversation move onto something else
• Within a few minutes I ask them a leading question and I listen to their response. I let them tell me a story. I listen with interest and maybe ask another question or two
• And then I thank them for telling me their story, mentioning something I enjoyed about the story.

At which point they realize it's a trick. Some people get embarrassed, but just about everyone is pleased. They did it. They told a story. They didn't die. Maybe next time it will be easier.

So what can you tell a story about, even if you don't think of yourself as a storyteller? Here are some suggestions for stories; these are all topics that can take a moment or an hour, none are the be-all and end-all of storytelling, nor is this list comprehensive.

• What was your best birthday ever?
• What did you want to be when you grew up? Why? If that didn't happen, what would life be like if it had?
• A time when you misheard something and what happened
• How was your drive today? How about yesterday? Anything interesting along the way?
• If you could have a superpower, what would it be? What are the implications of having a superpower?
• What's the farthest you've been from home?
• What could you give up? What couldn't you?
• What was your first car?
• Who is your hero? If you don't have one, make one up.
• What makes you happy?

I'd love to know what other topics you find useful, both as a teller and listener. Remember, the trick is that you are genuinely interested in what you're telling, so it must appeal to a broad audience and you must be interested in it. I don't generally recommend talking about the esoteric details of your job to someone you just met at a cocktail party (Unless they ask, of course). Please bear in mind, you could use these as writing prompts, but I'd urge you to take one of these and tell someone a story about it. See what happens when the words come from your mouth instead of your fingers. Have fun. Let me know how it turns out!

(c)2009 Laura S. Packer

Friday Fiction: Winter to Summer

Four men stand outside on a mild winter day. All have big, solid bellies and the broad callused palms of those who have spent their lives working with tools and rope and dirt. Their hard-hats in their hands, they shift back and forth as they feel the strain in their necks, heads bowed toward the ground. No one speaks. A few ice crystals glisten in the mound of newly turned earth.

“I’ll sure miss her,” says one. The others all nod and grunt their agreement. One sniffs slightly, pretending it’s the wind.

After awhile they turn and go back to work. The morning light catches on a foil-wrapped soda bottle graveside, sprouting plastic flowers. Later, one man, not the one who spoke nor the one who sniffed, returns and sets a ring of stones around the mound. By the next morning a yellow wooden cross is planted by the grave, inscribed with the words, “Nance. A good cat. 2001-2008.” No one mentions the cross. No one asks.

Winter flows into spring. The grave settles into the earth. The mice seem to have left out of respect for the dead. Work in the yard continues as it always does and the men make no mention of the cross by the fence. Nor does anyone comment on the occasional new flowers that appear by her resting place, or the saucer of milk placed by the ring of stones once a week, or the reluctance everyone shares in finding a new garage cat. Spring is a busy season, full of muddy axles and tire changes; there is little time to think of such things.

By summer the grave is almost flat. The stones that mark its border are so dark with mud and time, they could have been there forever. The cross is faded to the color of butter, the black lettering to grey. The plastic flowers still shine red and vibrant, no one looks closely enough to see the spatter of dirt. The milk that appears once a week is sipped away by squirrels and a stray cat that has taken to loitering by the fence.

By mid-August the stray has enough courage to sit in the sun outside of the garage while the men eat lunch. “Willya lookit that,” says one of them. “Bold as brass that tom is. Whaddya think, should I give him a little of my lunch? It’s been a long time since we had a cat around here.”

(c)2009 Laura S. Packer

World AIDS Day

Today is World AIDS Day. If you're reading this in the US or another Western country, then it's likely that AIDS and HIV aren't really on your radar anymore. The current medication cocktails have made HIV a condition someone can often live with for years, though their quality of life may be effected. HIV may not seem like the immediate death sentence it once did.

But if you're in Africa or South America or if you're poor or if you or someone you love has HIV then you know that this disease is still a significant and terrible threat. You don't have to be gay, black, white, promiscuous, a drug user or somehow irresponsible to get HIV. Anyone can contract it. You may already know someone who has HIV. I could have it. You could. You don't know unless you get tested. You won't know unless you ask, unless you hear and tell stories.

When I first heard about AIDS I thought That's it, we're all dead. A fatal sexually transmitted disease seemed like the end of humanity. Now I recognize it's far more complex. Among other things it's a call to action.

Act with compassion for all people; this illness inspires prejudice, but it can and does effect anyone. It gives us the opportunity to be our most compassionate selves.

Act with determination; by educating ourselves and others, by funding and supporting new research we can come closer to beating it. Along the way we learn more about ourselves, our bodies and how to live with each other.

Act. Don't be a passive, silent witness to your own life. While you are alive, live so you make the world better for all, whether that means wearing a ribbon, so this disease isn't allowed to become something only "they" get or do something else to connect with the world.

(c)2009 Laura S. Packer

Friday Fiction: How to make a golem

How to make a golem, God forbid you ever need to

I tell you this in the hope that you never use this knowledge. I tell you this in the hope that the world has changed enough that you never need to use this knowledge, that there will be no more pogroms or genocides. I tell you this so it will not be lost, because God has given us the gift of knowledge and learning and to let such things die is a sin.

You start, my child, with intent and need, the way you undertake any great work. And then the way God started, with a lump of clay. You must touch it with your hands, as we did. We were scholars, our hands unused to such rough work, so we could not shape it into anything more than the rough form of a man, but it was enough. Your golem, if you ever have such need, will surely be a thing of great beauty with delicate hands and well-shaped eyes. If you make it in haste when they are close on your heels and it is poorly shaped it will still work. Its form does not require eloquence.

You must breath life into it, as God did to man, as you might if it were a friend who has lost their breath. And with each breath your associates must utter the true name of God. I tell you that when I heard this as my lips were sealed on its moist, cool mouth, I could feel a trembling begin underneath me, as if it were my lover.

And then you simply write the Hebrew word for truth on its forehead in the damp clay. This is important, remember, because when you must destroy your golem (and a time will come when you must) you simply erase the first letter and the word for death is all that remains, because is there not some small piece of life and death in every truth?

Step back quickly, my dear, because the golem will rise to do your bidding. Anything, exactly as you request, so be careful. Do not, for example, ask it to bring someone to you, because it will do so with no care to their condition when they arrive. I know this.

Do not ask it to speak. If it speaks then it is almost a man and its heart may break with the knowledge that it is yet without a soul. That would be too cruel. I have heard that a golem can sing with such sweetness that angels come to listen, but the ears of men are not made for such song, nor are our eyes now made to witness visitations.

Remember this, my heart. A time will come when the golem knows what it is and that is when you must erase truth leaving only death. Once a thing shaped by human hands knows it is not divine, its wrath becomes boundless and no kindness will ease its sorrow. I know this, too.

I tell you this with the hope that you need never use this knowledge.

I tell you this because I know the world has not yet changed enough.

(c)2009 Laura S. Packer