Task-o-rama

My heart hadn't been in the tasks this week, or so I thought. I did a couple on Tuesday, but I'd been distracted at the time and thought the results had been lame. I listed twenty things I enjoy doing, and rather than think up twenty definitive Eliza activities I just sort of let whatever wandered into my thoughts be the next item on the list. It took something like 25 minutes, though like I said I was distracted, and I thought the experience was difficult and unsatisfying. For task 4, I chose two items from the list, made them goals for this week, and promptly forgot about them.

Task 6 this week is to add five more imaginary lives to the list from last week. I didn't choose that task last week, but I took the opportunity to start my imaginary life list that day.

I came up with:

Monk (maybe seven hundred years ago, ardent student and keeper of records of human learning, scribe)

Mystic (but not ascetic - more voracious with regard to earthy pleasures - and subversively, personally provocative, like Gurdjieff)

New Age recording artist (making music more emotionally compelling than a lot or maybe most of what's out there)

Horsewoman (not like Catwoman, just surrounded by horse companions *grin*)

Poet-naturalist hermit (like Thoreau)

I'm not sure I'm well-suited to any of these lives, though they're the ones that intrigue me most from the outside looking in. But there's one on the list I might actually be able to try. 14th century monk, of course! Heh. Okay okay I admit it: I could make New Age recordings if I decided to. That one's attainable (if I don't assume success or even breaking even), and would not require putting my husband on a jettison, or a back burner. Interesting.

I'm not sure I'm well-suited to the life I imagine those recording artists live either, mind you. I bet they don't like South Park, by and large, or AC/DC. I wonder if the label would make me stop wearing big black boots and rubber bracelets when they give me my big New Age recording contract. They probably wouldn't let me call my first record "God Doesn't Care That You Stole That Frisbee." But I digress. In the instructions for the task, Ms. Cameron advises working out small ways to "be" that life now.

So I played my piano today. I consider it a synchronicity that I had it tuned and repaired last month, before I knew I'd be doing the Artist's Way, especially since I hadn't really played for at least a couple of years, you know, with feelin'. And I hadn't done that regularly for a decade. It's recently been sitting there all bright and tuned and un-sticky, eagerly calling out to me like a dog who needs a walk, especially of course since I started the AW. I have ignored its call, rationalizing that I was "not ready."

Not ready for what, I wonder. I mean, I know what that meant in my head but it's really pretty dumb when I dissect it. It's as if I think the guy from Airy-Fairy Records in the ponytail and Jerry Garcia tie is going to show up with pen in hand tomorrow if I play my piano today, and then whatever would I do? I love my big black boots. (And then there's picking out my dress for the Grammys... what a bother!) Oy.

So because I said I'd do this program, and because I wrote "AW task" on my list of things to do today, and because it's not very threatening to just improvise for a half an hour, I did. And it was so cool. I'm glad I set the half-hour time frame, or I would have stopped before it got good. At first all I kept thinking about was how I need to practice, to play more, to develop more skill. It's as if I don't let myself play because I think I don't play well enough. Doesn't that make so much sense. But I kept at it so I wouldn't feel bad about not really trying, thinking about that thing from the book: "God, I will take care of the quantity. You take care of the quality." (That bit really works for me; it makes something click.) By the end of my half hour I was really engaged, and the music was readily flowing. Even my skill seemed to improve - my fingers seemed to know better what to do. I let myself just play with chord progressions that I really love, and I found myself letting the music wash over me. Then I got self-conscious, thinking about how I could actually make recordings if I decided to, and my fingers forgot what to do. But I know I can go back anytime, and I know I will, because I actually want to. And the quality of the music is not my department. Phew!

When I finished playing, I went back to my list of twenty things. It's not so bad! There's a lot here to work with. I'm glad I let it be stream-of-consciousness instead of trying to define myself in twenty activites.

Here's my list:
1. Real tarot readings for myself - long, with notes and incense
2. Long walks in nature
3. Horseback riding
4. Playing and singing w/T and S
5. Eating chocolate pudding
6. Cordelia's Dad shows
7. Reading poetry (or Leonard Cohen lyrics)
8. Eating popcorn with nutritional yeast and spices while watching movies at home
9. Long metaphysical (or just long, great) talks
10. Singing hymns in church
11. Smooching my kiddens on der heads
12. Road trips w/G
13. Choral singing
14. Looking at trees
15. Hanging out by a river or meadow alone with a journal
16. Swimming in a lake
17. Writing songs
18. Playing my songs for people
19. Drawing
20. Looking at and smelling flowers

(I tried to squeeze "riding a bike" on there, but limits are liberating so I'll leave it at twenty.)

I actually wrote (blurted), "Not very imaginative. Perhaps I can do it again another time," at the bottom of the page. Well... nuh-uh! No sir! There's plenty of interest here. I bought some nutritional yeast, and I smell a DVD artist date. Or is that popcorn...? Actually there's a ton of stuff here that could be easily translated into meaningful artist dates, so I shall refer back to it often. And maybe it's time to join the community chorus again. Hmm.

Hurray for just doing it. And for taking notes, in case in hindsight the it you just did turns out to be cooler than you thought.

By the way, the two things I chose to do from the list were to read some poetry or L.C. lyrics and to make one drawing. I can handle that.