In the beginning of the month, I made the confession that I was struggling with my storage space filled with the aftermath of 36 years of a creative existence. I have been digging through the piles of created objects and materials to create objects for the past 20 some days and finally feel as though I have made a dent in lightening my load.
If you are like me and spend any time making or collecting created objects, you may understand the sense of sentimentality I hold in relation to these objects. The images, cards, sculptures, letters, and artworks hold not only memories but all the intentions that were born when the object was created. The object itself is merely just a reminder of the meaning it holds and I am slowly finding new ways of holding onto the memories while letting go of the objects themselves. Finding new homes for these things and good ways to part with them has been a helpful process. Emily’s suggestion of sending the objects I have been making each day off to those that have made an impact in my life has been a great practice in letting go in a way that feels good. While I am on a roll of letting things go – I decided to head back to the storage unit.
This weekend, I focused on letting go of the easy things – the non-personal objects, clothes household items, decorative things, books etc.
A friend of mine reminded me that The International Rescue Committee in Baltimore City is currently doing a winter clothes drive. They are also collecting household supplies for newly arriving refugees to use in their new homes. The thought of my stuff (that is now collecting dust in storage) being used in a new home was the perfect motivation to let go of an entire car load of things!
Then I moved on to the boxes of books – books even heavier than the boxes of rocks I had been carrying for years. Books, although beautiful objects that I adore and love to see lined up on bookshelves, are really made to be shared and passed on – The Book Thing in Baltimore was created just for that purpose alone. In the spirit of lightening the load and letting go, I donated 80% of my book collection to The Book Thing (in which many of them originally came from)
If you are like me and have unread books, unused goods, or clothes that you don’t wear in your basement – please consider letting them go. These things can have a second life, bring someone else joy and empty your storage unit that you may be paying rent on! All win-win scenarios. Visit both the IRC and the Baltimore Book thing with your donations or if you are not in Maryland or in the Baltimore area, find a local place that does great work in your community and make a donation.
My work is not over yet though – I am heading back to shed some more stuff this next weekend. I am still left with stacks of photographs and boxes of random artwork. Again, like clothes not being worn or books not being read. What is the purpose of an image if it’s wrapped up in paper and stored in a dark place. This past weekend I started the process of finding homes for my more than 60 framed photographs.
I am donating one series to the Reginald F. Lewis Museum and donating other individual pictures to friends who would like to have them on their walls.
I am currently searching for a non-profit organization to donate a few other series of photographs to. Below are some examples from the “Speaking of Silence” series, the “From Where we Are” series and the travel documentary Asia series.
Please help by making suggestions on where I may be able to a find new homes for these series of images.
10/21
Just finding this blog today? Read more about the Living Chapters project here.
So as stated in an earlier post, I grew up making things – projects for art class or gifts for my mom. I spent hours and hours sitting and concentrating, just me, my hands, and some tools and materials. I only sometimes found the end product to be what I had expected but that didn’t really concern me. I immensely enjoyed and thrived upon the act of making as if it were my own form of meditation. It was not until after my college years that I really started to pin-point how this drive and love for making things was going to direct or clarify my purpose in life. To this day these facts are still being revealed to me in new and surprising ways.
About a week ago I received an email from a woman who worked with me as a volunteer in a youth radio program I was running in Baltimore City. I had not heard from her since the program ended now almost 4 years ago. It was a short note just to thank me for the experience she had working with me and also to update me on what she was currently doing. She told me that time working with me was very helpful to her and that she is now teaching theater in non-profits and working toward becoming a youth advocate. WOW! All that time we spent together in the back room of the neighborhood church trying to keep the 9-12 yr olds from killing each other or burning the place down actually did some good (and still is?) Just that quick note from her really made my day. It was really fantastic to hear what she was doing now and that she was still interested in advocating for youth.
It’s not often that we hear or understand what our actions mean to others. I mean in this case, SHE was helping me, all I did was create a space and role for her to engage with the kids in the program. I didn’t know she would pull from the experience years later. Not only did her reaching out make my day, but it she got me thinking again. Why do I love the act of making so much and what is it that I have been making all these years?
After college I started moving away from making only objects and images, I realized that I enjoyed the space and time of sharing the process of making. Showing others how to make and creating spaces to encourage others to create, or share something. Some people may call this “teaching” or “community art” I like to call it spending quality time with people for creative purposes.
This simple email from my former volunteer reminded me that it has been a while since I spent time making with others and creating spaces for people to make. It reminded me that not only does this process bring me joy and energy but it can also make a difference in other people’s lives in ways I may not ever know. So in response to her email I decided to start the “Make a Difference Project” as a part of my October making month.
In the “Making a Difference Project”, I filled up a suitcase with a load of the craft supplies (that I pulled out of my never-ending collection in the storage unit) and went back to the streets of Annapolis to find people to make stuff with. I took my things to the busiest place I could find downtown and camped out. I asked people to “MAKE or TAKE” a free card. “Make a card or an object for someone you know that has made a difference in your life and send it to them!” was the directive (echoing Emily’s chapter requests). It was simple and it worked! Really nice people came over and sat down on the ground with me and made amazing things! One boy picked up 2 pencils and started knitting with embroidery thread, one guy painted a landscape for his friend, someone else made “interesting” name tags for her friends to wear, many cards were made and poems were written. For the first day of this – I think it went really well. AND I had a great time and made some new friends! SCORE my task of making something for today was completed.
I challenge you. Who means a lot in your life? Who has made a difference? What would happen if you told them? What would your positive reinforcement help them do? I dare you to do it and promise…. It will make a difference.
10/14
Just finding this blog today? Read more about the Living Chapters project here.
I knew this experiment Living Chapters would ask me to look at and examine my stuff. Personally and internally… I just didn’t realize how literal the process would become.
In a recent spelunking adventure in the depths of my storage room of stuff, I came across a rather large box of rocks. Yep, I have been collecting rocks for more than 20 years now. Not only have I been collecting rocks but I have been moving them with me from home to home. For someone who moves as much as I do this is no small feat. These rocks mean a lot to me.
Upon inspection, I found much more than stones inside – There were small objects from each corner of the earth I have traveled to. Sticks from Scotland’s highlands, shells from South Australia, walnuts from Turkey and wild turkey feathers from the Eastern Shore of MD are just a few examples. Instead of buying souvenirs from my travels, I would just come home with a new handful of rocks. Plain objects to most but to me each piece is a memory holding specific stories and tracking explorations and adventures. I was never really good at keeping a proper journal but I was great at keeping my rocks.
I’ve looked at these rocks a million times and wondered if I could ever help them find a home. (Some may say I’ve been doing the same for myself) But since I am still moving along my path, I think now is the time to end their journey so I can continue on without the excess baggage to weigh me down. There’s nothing like a 25 lb box of rocks to make you realize that your stuff (sentimental or literal) is really starting to weigh you down! I can hold on to the memories but it’s time to release the rocks.
I know, I know, holding on to a box of rocks and adding to it each year is a ridiculously sentimental thing to do, but while I’m still in confession mode – I’ll admit, I’m a bit sentimental. I figure, the only way to phase these objects out of my life would have to be through a meaningful or sentimental process. I gained all of these objects through exploration why not release them through exploration. It was time to make a pilgrimage.
This weekend I decided to go to the place where I had my initial taste of exploration – my backyard stomping grounds in Dillsburg, PA. My older brother Jason and I use to go for long hikes in the state game lands near our home. We would lose ourselves for hours, wandering through corn fields, walking in the woods, catching insects, building forts and getting into trouble.
There was absolutely nothing out there but trees, corn, dirt and rocks. For us in that time growing up, that nothing, was everything we needed. Jason and I would make maps of the 3 lakes, the connected cornfields and the trails in the woods. And then we would create stories to go along with our visual pictures making our own “choose your own adventure” type books. In this place, we learned to take the simple elements of time and space and make them into a new reality. You kind of had to make things sentimental, dramatic or elaborate to create meaning when you were a kid alone in the stix of Pennsyltucky. It was necessary for survival.
I have been back to this place many times but just to drive through. It was time to return on foot. It seemed appropriate for this month’s challenge of making and creating to go back to the place where, essentially, I started to create. And it seemed to me a perfect resting place for my rocks.
Within a few short hours this past Sunday, these objects that have traveled so far, from the coast of Australia, the plains of Tanzania, and the hills of Kashmir have finally found their resting place in the cornfields, cemeteries and autumn leaf piles in Dillsburg, PA. They will live here at least until someone else comes along to collect them.
I have been fortunate to experience a certain sense of freedom since I left my last permanent home in Baltimore. I’ve felt more spontaneous, without boundaries and literally lighter on my feet. I have moved about 8 times in less than 3 years living a low maintenance, low stress life style. Bringing with me only the bare minimum, I have freed myself from excess belongings to weigh me down. Well… all this sounds lovely, but it’s not entirely true. My confession is this, I still own a ton of STUFF just like everybody else. My life as a free-spirited gypsy is a sham.
Sure – my spirit might be free of a home and mortgage payments, but it sure isn’t free from stuff – I do own have belongings: they have all been living in the basement of my old apartment just waiting for me to come home. I have never really signed the divorce papers with my stuff, we’ve only been separated, living apart these past few years.
In my last post, I talked about my love of making things, as well as collecting them. I even referred to this love as a borderline addiction. Well let’s just come clean, it’s not borderline – it’s actually a full on addiction, or shall I say unhealthy relationship? One that has been on again off again for years now but I keep coming back to. We may have been on the outs for a few years now, but secretly I am still in love.
So while I am making confessions, I will also tell you that I recently starting seeing my stuff again, this past July. I visited my storage space searching for bits and pieces of my past to organize, scan, and document in preparation for creating my online portfolio. Upon returning to the storage space, I felt conflicted: Oh how I missed my stuff. We were so happy together– why had I left it all behind?
Looking back on the old days, my stuff and I had a great history together. Each object holding another story from a past chapter. How could I possibly give these objects up? Revisiting the memories felt overwhelming – reliving my past but also pondering a future that we could have together. Just think of what a beautiful place I might have one day with all this stuff in it!
“I should keep this futon for a home someday right? Yeah maybe for the same house that I will actually put up all 60 of these framed photographs that I made for exhibitions?”
“I remember eating off of this Raggedy Ann and Andy plate when I was 6 (30 years ago!). Hmmm…will I still be eating off of this plate in another 30 years?”
Sometimes I get lost for hours in the basement, just thinking about the past and the future. But there just doesn’t seem to be any place, space, or time for these artifacts in my current life. As much as I cherish them all, I am finding that figuring out what to do with this stuff is slowing me down and stressing me out. If I dragged the 10 boxes of my favorite books with me aboard the boat it would sink! And I have gotten really use to not wanting or needing excess things in my living space. It’s time to pare down, break up, kick the habit!
You may ask, “what is all this stuff that you keep?” and “do you really need it?” Being someone who has always felt the need to make and create, I hold on to different kinds of objects. I have very little that is valuable in a monetary way – no electronics, not much furniture and very few household items.
If you had to divide my belongings up they would live in these three territories: the land of “past creations”, the land of “future creations”, and land of “stuff I don’t want to buy again if I shall ever need it”. The land of past and future creations is currently taking up about 75% of my storage space. The rest is slowly being given away to friends who need and want the other objects.
Land of past creations
these are just a few examples of the random things that I’ve created and held onto over the years. How could I give up the wire and ribbon purse I made as a teenager or the suitcase photo book I made from my travels in Spain and Ireland and of course that paper explosion thing – that’s just too weird to get rid of right?
Land of future creations
Just a few examples of the materials that call me to creation but have been neglected, getting musty in my former basement. I can’t seem to part with the pretty paper, Halloween yarn, fabric collected from foreign countries and tiny faux golden beads – just think what COULD be made from them!
It’s finally time to free myself of the stuff. It’s my own personal challenge that I inserted myself somewhere back in Chapter 3 – when I started tracking how consumptive we all are and how every object in our lives leaves an impact on our environment. I really like the idea of having less and using less. Now the challenge is to see if I can live up to this “idea” that I like.
This leads me to confession #2. In my quest to rid myself of stuff, I feel very conflicted being asked to create new stuff every day for an entire month! At first there was great excitement… create and make every day! How refreshing, I have missed this hands on creative part of my life. Making things has always been therapeutic. What I have not missed though is the confusion of what to do with these objects once they are made. Thank goodness Wheatie built into the chapter that I would then send off these creations to others – they would then have to decide what to do with these creations not I.
So today besides making confessions, I would like to make a proposition and make a deal.
The proposition is this: I propose the continuation of creating and sharing creations daily this month. I don’t want to give up my love affair of “the making” but its time to break my addiction to “the collecting” and let go of the attachment to the made objects themselves. Is this possible?
I propose adding to Wheatie’s chapter, by challenging myself to make things this month that can be experienced, used, eaten, heard, read, played or passed on easily. Can I lighten my own storage load and not weigh down someone else with my new creations? Can I continue my love of the making while breaking my habit of collecting? Can these creations live somewhere other than my old basement or in someone else’s basement?
Can you help me with these goals? Will you join me in the making, creating and sharing? Will you help me break up with my stuff for good, make my load a little lighter? Calling all makers and creators.. will you help me part with the lost objects in the land of creations and in the land of future creations?
Let’s Make a Deal: I will be posting pictures of my stuff (things that I have made and things that are waiting to be made) on the Living Chapters Facebook page this month. If you like it, let it be known – post your request here on the blog or on Facebook. Tell me what you want to make using the object or what kind of home my creation will have. If you have a convincing story or an interesting enough trade the object is yours. I will also be posting pictures of my daily creations. Please take a peak and let me know what you think and any ideas you may have for new creations.
10/7/13
Just finding this blog today? Read more about the Living Chapters project here.
I could not expect anything less from October’s chapter writer Emily Wheat (fondly known to many of her friends as Wheatie). Of course Wheatie would push me to create and make. She has been pushing me and inspiring me to do so since the day I met her. Why would she stop now? We met about 5 years ago in Remington, the neighborhood I lived in at the time. A small, vibrant and diverse community centrally located in Baltimore City. It was the last place that I put my roots down and called home, for any significant amount of time.
When our paths crossed, Emily was in graduate school at the Maryland Institute College of Art she was working on her Masters degree in Community Art and was placed in Remington to work with middle school age youth. She hung out in the community center for the summer months, taught photography, art skills and made dioramas out of shoe boxes and plasticine clay. Meanwhile, a few blocks down the street, I was hanging out with kids on my porch teaching kids photography, art skills and how to make tambourines out of paper plates and dried beans. Needless to say, we became fast friends. We both liked hanging out with kids and we both were oddly addicted to making stuff.
Making things or creating has been a constant in my life. Ever since I could remember I have found myself collecting small objects, craft materials, both natural and man-made treasures, – maybe a rock or a plastic bottle cap? Always thinking, “Someday I will make something with this”. And often, I would live up to this promise. For a long time I had a hard time buying gifts for people – I always wanted to make something. People were either totally thrilled when they got my odd gifts or completely confused and sometimes offended.
The recipients of my gifts may have said,
“Gee I never had a ‘make your own sock puppet’ kit before?”
or “Are these pot holders or wall hangings? maybe both?”
The things I made did not always make sense but they have always had an honest intention behind them and sometimes a practical use. I just loved making stuff; it was just somehow satisfying. I have never been able to explain why, I’ve just always felt this need, urge or call to create. I guess when I started college, I began to call the stuff I made “art” but I have never really been comfortable calling it that. The things I make are just creations – objects and ideas that came out of a desire to make.
This love of making most likely came from my mother who actually opened up a craft shop to the public in the basement of our home when I was growing up. She sold hand-made toys, blankets, and dried flower arrangements. Little did I know that my future would lead to a similar scenario.
25 years after my mom’s shop closed, I met Emily, when my own collecting/making addiction was in full force. I had turned my basement in Remington into a community storage space for donated arts and craft materials. It was a challenge to keep up with all the incoming donations. I was trying to do this by making stuff with the random materials on Tuesday afternoon Porch Art sessions with the kids in my neighborhood. I fully admit that Porch Art was created to feed my own addiction. I was getting my fix every week not only planning a new idea but also getting to make it happen with a group of people who would show up on my porch weekly!
Porch Art started off slowly in the spring and would pick up speed in the summer, then would crescendo in October with fall frenzied energy and the anticipation of Hauntingdon (our community’s volunteer run Halloween festival). All the kids in the neighborhood (and many adults too) would gather each week to make creepy décor for the block party including plastic bowl eyeballs, cardboard cut out zombies, mummy masks etc. You name it we made it. There is nothing that could describe this process better than the song “Making Christmas” from Tim Burton’s Nightmare before Christmas. Instead of Christmas of course, we in Remington, were making Halloween.
There was something contagious in the collective making that led up to Halloween. One year we had more than 100 community members engaged, creating and donating to the cause. In the afternoon my porch was full of kids cutting out paper ghosts in the evening my living room was full of adults drawing disembowed bodies on shower curtains – It was a crazy creative time. Everyone played a part in the process and it paid off in the end all event. Hauntingdon!
Emily played a huge role in both Porch Art and Hauntingdon. She may be the one person that I know who loves skulls and Halloween more than I do. We bonded over our love of zombie movies, ghouls, and the darkness as well as our shared addiction to making odd objects.
These are a few Emily Wheat creations that come with me everywhere (the ghost has been in my car for about 4 years now and the skulls have been hung up in 5 different houses and now 3 boats!) Besides being crafty though – Emily is also the one who created the beautiful photographs of books featured on this website here
What I love about Wheatie is that she has an open sense of wonder, one that a child might have yet combined with old soul wisdom that an elder might hold. It’s quite a balance! I’m not sure how she attained this rare combination, but it may come from her constant search for meaning and purpose while also being able to let things happen as they do. Emily always has mirrored back to me my belief that the act of making in itself is always somehow more important than whatever object comes out of the creative process. She reminds me that things end up just the way they do – and we should try be ok with that.
In her chapter this month, Emily emphasizes the importance balance. How can we allow our work to influence us but not direct us solely in our search for meaning and fulfillment? And how can we not forget to listen to ourselves while learning from and being inspired by others.
It’s a challenge not to follow any one prescribed career or life path. Emily has supported me and guided me on this task since I’ve known her. She continuously confirms my belief that purpose is not found in one place but on the path itself, it’s in the intentions and in the making and creating. We just need to continue on with the making to continue finding meaning.
10/3/13
Just finding this blog today? Read more about the Living Chapters project here.
This month Amy, Agnes and Grace challenged me to be mindful and aware of my thoughts, my body, my feelings, and the passing time that holds them all together.
I found great benefits in the exploration of meditation, silence, stillness as well as silliness this month. Even though I feel as though I’ve merely scratched the surface in this exploration, I’ve noticed that what I have put into practice this month really has helped me to let go a bit more, relax into my resistance and disentangle from the situations in which I can not control. I also learned that looking directly at my discomfort or resistance has lead to greater clarity and comfort.
I will keep my parting words brief and leave you with the above lessons I’ve learned as well as a few of the same questions that we started with to ponder. I don’t suspect these questions will ever really be answered with any amount of reflection and meditation. I kind of hope that they stay unanswered. I have enjoyed indulging in this exploration and hope to continue to do so in each future chapter to come.
What is happiness? Is it something we can find or do we create it ourselves? How long can it last?
How do we balance the act of leading and planning our lives while allowing them to unfold?
Can darkness pain and resistance lead to clarity peace and understanding?
What can our physical realities teach us about our existential existence?
As long we are all making it through our existential crises day-to-day, I think we’re all doing ok! Be here now.
9/30/13
Just finding this blog today? Read more about the Living Chapters project here.
“Come to New York for some isolation” she said. I had no idea I would also be spending the weekend staring at guts, blood vessels, body parts, skeletons, and still-born baby embryos?!? And somehow all of this happened before diving into the silence, darkness, and nothingness found floating in the pre-scheduled isolation chamber session. Wow! What a way to end this month’s exploration into existential spirituality! Gotta give it to this month’s writer Amy Rothstein for shaking “Living Chapters” up and literally pushing both my physical and mental comfort zones.
I warn the readers now that this entry is longer than most. I have found experiences in the past few days to be fascinating and at some point may write pages on the thoughts and questions that were inspired by this weekend’s excursion. Tonight I will share what I can.
As suggested, I traveled to New York City to visit Amy and her husband Adam. I’ve been to the city countless times before and have always found it to be invigorating and stimulating (sometimes a bit overly so…) I often come home from New York feeling as if I need to rest up from my trip. This was the first visit in which I’ve come home feeling revitalized and fully relaxed.
So, instead of shopping, gallery hopping, clubbing, or culture seeking, Amy had a not so touristy mission planned for us this weekend. She asked me to step outside of the peaceful white wall, daily mediation sessions and challenged me to and take a peak under my own skin. She asked me to contemplate not only who I am but what I am. What would happen if I looked directly into the dark isolated place of my inner self to seek existential answers? I endorse following Rothstein’s approach of doing the nitty-gritty work of checking in with your day-to-day existence while pushing both your physical body, and mind to new places. It feels like a bold endeavor and I thank Amy for asking this of me.
Day one: under the skin
Although not written directly into the chapter, Amy made one last request that we do together upon my arrival to the city. For the last week of this month, I was asked to focus on my body. How did I feel within my own skin in different situations with different people? Could I notice subtle changes? Could I listen to what my body was communicating and block out external sources? To assist me in this process, she suggested we attend Gunter von Hagens’ Body Worlds original exhibition “Pulse”
I had the opportunity many times before to see this exhibit, but have always passed it by. I passed up the chance to stare at and examine the stripped down layers of our human shells? I passed on the chance to be up close and personal with the human hide that we call skin, the marble like substance that we call muscles, the gorey guts that make up our digestive track, and the ligaments that somehow link our muscles and bones together. Oh and I somehow had been missing out on the opportunity to observe the slices of brains delicately displayed between glass. Why had I passed up this great opportunity? Well it’s totally creepy! So, Amy if you were trying to pick things that push my comfort zone, job well done – consider it pushed!
these photos are taken from the Body Worlds exhibition website. Please go there to see more images – the photos are amazing but they do not do the exhibit justice. Go see the show!
Overall, I found the visit to the Body Worlds exhibit to be a bit less overwhelming and unsettling than I expected but it did greatly affect me. Looking at our physical form stripped down to the basic layers was fascinating. I quickly became aware of my own physical reactions. The darkened space and carefully designed light fixtures transported viewers to another space where we humans could observe ourselves as beautifully displayed objects or sculptures. It was when I started comparing the figures to my own body and bone structure that I started to feel the exhibit rather than merely view it. My palms began to sweat and I felt a bit light-headed. It brought my awareness directly to the current moment and physical state of being. I was not quite queasy but I was not quite right either. I was actually proud of both Amy and I for making it through the whole exhibit without passing out in public. (Amy is my only friend who like myself is prone to fainting in doctor’s offices when giving blood or even getting a shot.)
Being in the darkened space with this spotlighted specimens – I have never been more aware of my own shape, shell and form or more amazed by it. How precious each tiny piece and part played in the overall picture! Breaking it down in this visual way reminded me of how strong yet vulnerable we are. Each layer protecting the next – a complicated and precise system making up our each of our individual lives. It is entirely up to us to keep it all moving smoothly and working properly. It is up to us to take care of ourselves body mind and spirit. This exhibit was a clear reminder of that.
Interspersed between the display cases of flesh, muscles and bones were Tibetan prayers, quotes from existential poets, scientists and spiritual leaders. I found it fitting that the curators of the show also designed the viewing experience to be balanced out with these open-ended existential questions about life. How could you not wonder about these questions when contemplating and viewing the visceral creation of the human body.
Day two: in the water
What the heck is an isolation chamber? I had been thinking about this since Amy unveiled her final request for this chapter last week. She scheduled us both to spend 60 minutes in an isolation chamber. I can not say the request did not spark a tiny bit of anxiety at first. There is something about the word “chamber” that creates a sense of fear that only bad horror movies involving torture and psychological tests could bring. Amy had posted a few links online for me to learn about the process and experience, but I purposely held back peaking at them so I could go into the experience with a clean slate (without preconceived notions or judgement). I decided to trust my friend and let go of the stereotypes that movies have led me to believe about isolation. My anxiety quickly faded to excitement and curiosity. Is it even possible to be in complete isolation in the midst of New York City? And if it was, what can isolation bring? Why do people choose to do this? These were questions, I was ready to explore. Also, Amy was along for the ride, so if it was torturous, we would weather the weirdness together.
After coming out of this experience, I am sure my description won’t do it justice. Reactions to this process, I am sure are intimate and unique to each individual much like our sensory experiences. Sound and sight are not the same for you and I so how could the absence of them feel the same to us both. I urge you to try this out for yourself (that is if you are not claustrophobic) and see what you get out of it.
So you may ask like I did, what is an isolation chamber? Basically it is a small room/large closet with a large tub in it (it’s about the size of the space I sleep in on the sailboat I live aboard). The tub is filled with water kept at body temperature. It has a high density of Epson Salt in it and possibly some chlorine. It is big enough to stretch out and float effortlessly in. The walls are sound proof and the darkness is opaque when the lights are turned off.
If you are wondering about the actual step-by-step detailed logistics of this process, I urge you to take a peak at the blog post (that I should have read before I entered) New York’s Last Sensory Deprivation Tank. This writer’s description of her interaction with Blue Light Flotation and its proprietor Sam Zeiger was quite similar and on par with my own observations. The only notes that I will offer in addition to her right-on review are my personal experiences being a first time floater.
I was not sure what I would get out of this “isolation” experiment. Amy and I entered the nondescript apartment building and told the doorman which floor and apartment we were visiting. Knowing exactly why we were there, he responded to us by asking, “Are you sure you want to do this?” Amy laughed a bit “Yes sir!” she said confidently. I shrugged my shoulders, smiled and followed her into the elevator. Exiting on the 4th floor we walked down a “Shining like” hotel hallway and passed by a silent young man, grinning gleefully from ear to ear. His expression was both blissful and a bit bonkers. He had just left Blue light – a first time floater maybe?
Sam welcomed us in his home and gave us both a brief (yet incredibly detailed) instructional session on how to get the best experience from the float. He was very particular about cleanliness, privacy, and efficiency. He explained that we would first shower before entering the tank, how to enter and exit the tank and then shower afterward. OK, yes this may have been one of the more bizarre things I have done in my life. Showering in some unknown guys apartment in NYC then floating naked in his self-made isolation tank full of salt water for an hour sounds like a recipe for disaster. These are the ingredients that make up most people’s worst nightmares but I can honestly say it just was not creepy at all. The guy outside in the hall was more unsettling than anything I experienced or saw inside Blue Light floatation.
Sam is one of the most professional and non threatening guys, I have met in a while. He believes in the benefits of floating so much, that he devoted his life to the process. In a sense his apartment in itself is his own isolation chamber that he can only really leave on Sundays (his day off) The rest of the week, he is booked back to back with curious visitors like ourselves and frequent floaters that come in to float for 3 hours at a time. He finds himself rarely able to get out of the apartment to even do simple errands – he is stuck in isolation of his creation. Now I can’t begin to tell Sam’s whole story after only talking to him for a mere 15 minutes but I can tell you about my first float.
I found very little to be negative about the isolation experience, in fact it was quite the opposite for me. The 60 minutes inside the chamber floating was the closest thing I have experienced to self-created and contained contentment or shall I say happiness. I would not call it life-altering or being bathed in bliss… by no means did any golden thoughts or answers fall from the universe into my subconscious during this time, but I have to say I felt ready and willing for them to do so.
When I first slipped into the tank I was surprised how buoyant the salt water made me. I floated directly to the surface of the water and stayed there. I had no fears or qualms about sinking. The weightlessness instantly relaxed me. I easily laid my head back, switched the light off, closed my eyes. I focused in on the few things I could remember Sam telling us. He suggested doing a quick body scan or check in with each part of the body. How does this feel? How does that feel? Notice if there is any tension – don’t resist it. Accept that it’s there and breathe into the tension. Don’t ignore or avoid the discomfort, focus in on it and try to dissolve it. And practically, he reminded us, that staying still would obviously enhance the experience and of course warned us not to get the salt water in our eyes.
At first I did feel tension between my shoulder blades at the back of my neck. I was distracted by this for at least the first 5 – 10 minutes of the float. Other initial distractions included the thudding sounds of my heart beating, my now Darth Vader under water sounding breath and the almost deafening background sound of silence itself (which to me was like a ringing in my ears). I tried to focus in on the tension, and then went to focusing on my breath and then switched to listening to my heart beat. As I focused in on one thing, the other sound or sense would fade. Not only was I able let go of the tension but I was also able to let go of holding my body entirely. I simply let go to the best of my ability and relaxed deeply into the floating feeling itself.
Thoughts of time came in and out of my head. “How long has it been? Is this supposed to be what happens in here? Don’t move – salt water in eyes would suck!” I also couldn’t help but be reminded of the tiny baby embryos in the Body World show. I felt like one of them in them floating in the darkened womb. When these thoughts came in, I steered my mind back to the silence sound and the darkness. The thoughts would then evaporate into the thick air. I tried to imagine the line of water around my body hitting the moisture filled air above me. Where was that line? Sometimes I still felt it around my face and sometimes it would disappear. When I was completely still, I felt as if I was floating in open space lifted in the air instead of the water. When I moved slightly it felt as if my body was spinning horizontally clockwise. Is this was astronauts feel like? Was I asleep? I thought for a few moments that I was. My legs got those jerk jolt reactions that sometimes happen just before or after falling into an REM state. At one point I felt as if I was floating face down instead of face up in the water. Did Sam slip something else in the water other than salt? These changing perceptions made me wonder.
Before I knew it I was hearing soft sad sounding music – this was the sign that the session had ended. I tried to sit up in the darkness and felt even more disoriented – I found the light switch and wandered back out into the world (Sam’s living room) where he had a cold class of herb tea waiting for me. 60 minutes had gone by in what seemed like less time than my 20 minute mediation sessions.
While waiting for Amy to take her 60 minutes in the chamber, I stood outside in the sun at the corner of west 23rd and 7th Avenue. I was basking in my isolation hang-over of sorts. I’ve never had such a great hang-over. I felt elated, yet grounded and surprisingly alert at the same time. I noticed my posture was even a bit better. The world was moving quickly all around me on the busy city street but it didn’t bother or affect me. I patiently stared at everyone moving by and felt no need to be anywhere or do anything but be there in the sun.
Spending the hour-long session with only myself and the silence left me feeling not isolated but more connected with my surroundings and with a great sense of inner calm. The feeling stayed with me about an hour after leaving the float tank even amongst the hectic flow and pulse of the city around me. Was there something in the tank water? Was there something in the herbal tea? Or was there something in the simple act of looking inward instead of outward that brought me to sense of calm and comfort level in my own (newly salt covered and smooth) skin? Anyway you look at it – I rate it an A+ experience and would return to the isolation chamber. I will start tonight back on the boat in Annapolis, its my less intense version of the isolation chamber.
9/29/13
Just finding this blog today? Read more about the Living Chapters project here.
I want to take a moment before this introspective month fades into the fifth chapter to stop and reflect briefly upon what is happening at this quarter mark through this “Living Chapters” challenge year. Last week, I was given a great opportunity to do just that.
I was invited to speak with Aaron Henkin, Baltimore radio producer host of WYPR’s “The Signal” 88.1 fm about my experiences living out these chapters month to month. It was actually the first time I really spoke to someone publicly about about my personal experiences and feelings about the overall process.
I really enjoyed my time in the studio with Aaron and feel flattered and privileged that there is such interest in the idea itself. The thing that excited me most about the whole process though, was the fact that Aaron went out of his way to interview many of the amazing “Living Chapters” players who have made this project not only possible but also very meaningful. One of my main goals in creating this project was to bring together and highlight the incredible people in my life that I care about. I thank Aaron for interviewing some of them and giving them a candid chance to share their thoughts and ideas about the process thus far.
On a side note, I am very glad the interview wasn’t scheduled on a “Day of Silence”. Strangely enough, the last time I was on “The Signal” was back in 2010 when I was invited to talk about a project I was working on called “Speaking of Silence”. I have been referring back to and thinking a lot of the work I did then a lot throughout this month.
Listen here for that interview.
If you are in the listening area this week, take a moment and tune in to WYPR 88.1 on Friday September 27th at 7pm or Saturday September 28th at 3pm. Otherwise check in on the podcast here. Thanks for listening.
Just finding this blog today? Read more about the Living Chapters project here.
On my first day of silence last Wednesday, I opened up the hatches on the boat letting the crisp fall air and sun come in. It was a perfect way to start a “Day of silence” 5 minutes after settling into my morning meditation, I was startled and distracted by unknown voices outside on the dock. I glanced over and noticed 2 men standing a mere 15 feet from my meditation cushions. “Did they see me sitting here cross-legged with my plastic mustache meditation glasses on?” I realized that even if they did, there would be no way that I could explain myself at this point to them – it was a “Day of Silence” and I could not speak. I closed my eyes and sunk into the silence.
As a part of the Wild Card suggestion this month, I was given the challenge of taking one “day of silence” each week. When I heard this suggestion, I made an audible sigh of relief – what a pleasure and opportunity that would be.
The concept of what silence is and what it can bring to individuals has always interested me. I actually spent over 2 years creating audio pieces and photographic portraits exploring the role that silence has played in our lives. The project was called “Speaking of Silence”. Through that exploration, I interviewed nearly 100 people, listened and learned about what silence meant to and for those individuals. During those 2 plus years of examining the concept, I do not think I ever spent one full day being completely silent myself. I thank Amy this month for asking me to explore what the concept means for myself in meditation practice and I thank Agnes for pushing it a bit further.
Each mediation session this month itself has been training in a way for these extended periods of silence. Practicing meditation has allowed me to create a silent space for my thoughts and feelings. I’ve used this space to focus on the present moment, becoming aware of the time itself between my thoughts, actions, and speech patterns. This process has been great to do alone – it has helped me become more still and slower – not in work or my daily activities but in my reactions to others and my environment. Giving me the time to really observe and respond accordingly. I am finding that taking the time to be silent even outside of meditation practice is helping with this as well. So throughout the month even on “non days of silence” I am making time each day to be silent. (organizing, walking, writing, observing others)
But what would happen if I brought my silence out into the world? What would a normal day be like with the added silence? How would others react? How would it make me feel to not be able to communicate easily? This week Amy asked me to delve into how I felt in my body, alone and in social situations. I am taking my days of silence to experiment with what it feels like to hold the space in a busy coffee shop, in a grocery store, down town and in conversations with friends.
Below are some of the highlights of my first speechless days. I will say I was not completely successful in not speaking or uttering a sound entirely, I did said “SORRY” involuntarily when I bumped into someone by mistake and I made some exclamations to myself during the day – once when I accidentally hit the curb parallel parking “Yikes!” also at one point I found myself whistling. And even though I gave up my phone I did not give up technology or communicating all together. I was lucky enough to schedule 2 meeting free and telephone free days but I did still need to send emails for work.
Enhanced experiences:
Organizing/cleaning – I am more focused and more efficient
Emailing/working: I am more efficient when I am not taking phone calls
Writing: I am taking more time to write what I feel rather than worrying about what the words sound like together.
Walking: I have been walking alone and without excess sounds, music or calls. I have enjoyed the physical environment more.
New experiences:
Communicating: I mostly communicate through written notes in a small book and on post it notes. I sometimes “mouth” words as well or “mime” an action. I did this while doing errands and grocery shopping. When people noticed that I was not speaking they treated me differently – they started speaking really quietly and also slowly? Hmmm… because I was silent I guess that meant I was also unable to understand or hear them? Some people wanted to write return notes to me rather than say anything out loud. One lady decided that I was deaf and started signing to me in sign language – I shrugged my shoulders not being able to tell her I didn’t understand sign language and just pointed at my shirt that stated “Day of Silence”. She continued signing to me.
Body motions: I noticed myself using my hands to talk (even more so than usual) I gave the “thumbs up” and “ok” sign so many times that I started to feel like a cartoon character. I also felt strangely like a mime when I realized that not only was I silent but my “Day of Silence” T-shirt was black and white.
I noticed myself smiling A LOT. I really did not want to appear rude or as if I was offended by anything the other person said by not speaking to them.
Strange occurrences and/or observations:
I got into a note conversation with the old man in a coffee shop – he spoke to me in riddles and I tried to answer him in written pictures – I am not sure who was more confused or amused in that interaction.
I started a race with a 2-year-old in the park who seemed to understand my silence more than his parents.
I had a telekinetic interaction with a squirrel.
I did not miss phone conversations one bit.
I realized how silent we are already in our communication with eachother
While observing my own communications – I realized I am more connected online through my writing, emails, and texts almost more so than my face-to-face meetings? I am more honest and open in my writing than my face-to-face conversations.
I appreciate the time in between the responses of written notes, text messages or emails.
I tried to help a guy with a mustang charge the dead battery in his car. I could not convince him that he had connected the cables incorrectly. I am not sure if he didn’t want to “listen” to me because I was writing him notes or because I was a girl?
I got into the best conversation I have ever had about “truth, loyalty, and acceptance” with a barista. The entire conversation took place on post-it notes.
I am good at playing charades – I can now order breakfast in charades.
I am thinking of instituting this “Day of Silence” at least once a month for the rest of the year, if can not schedule weekly sessions as I move forward. I can not tell you how many benefits are coming from this experiment. I can not tell you today anyway, I am still learning. But I will try talk to you about it tomorrow! Please share your silent experiences with me.
9/25/13
Just finding this blog today? Read more about the Living Chapters project here.
Take 30 seconds to be silly today. That is one lesson I learned from this month’s unpredictable wild card!
Leave it to a 9-year-old to tell me exactly what I need to do to make Zen meditation work for me. Wear a mustache attached to a pair of ridiculously over sized glow-in-the dark glasses! Of course… it’s the perfect remedy to all questions and conflicts with my meditation practice. Interjecting a bit of silliness into my goals and intentions has never hurt me before, why should I stop now?
As Agnes stated, leave it to the free minds of children that are always searching and seizing the moment for a good opportunity to have fun. I truly do feel like we could learn a lot from those younger minds if we paid attention more. I must remind myself as well that in the times in my past when I have found myself becoming stuck, stressed or too serious, I have always gravitated toward youth to help ease the overwhelming feelings or situations. Not only do young people continuously keep me on my toes and in the moment with their unpredictability but their sense of themselves and the world keeps me laughing and questioning. The two things that I believe are necessary for nurturing a balanced mind and spirit.
These photographs were taken before leaving St. Croix. I had received the wild card gift when I arrived on the island but had not read the actual wild card challenge at this point. Upon receiving the gift, I immediately thought that this would be the perfect thing to do with the glasses. (Grace and I must be on a similar wave length) During the second week of meditating, (before receiving these glasses) I was actually having difficulties with wandering thoughts and some negative thinking. I was getting a bit hung up on thinking I was “doing the meditation wrong” or not doing zazen in the “right” way. Since then my thoughts in mediation have moved away from these self-critical places. Wandering thoughts still bubble up and rise to the surface but they are much less negative or critical and I don’t struggle with them as much, I let them evaporate when they reach the surface. It’s starting to feel a bit lighter in a sense.
So thank you Grace for not letting me fall only into the “oh so serious side” of meditation. Thanks for reminding me that mediation practice does not have to be perfect or meet a certain standard that has been prescribed. It is simply a tool that will help us find what we need for ourselves. Grace’s wild card tells me that we don’t have to be always searching for some kind of bliss in the subconscious or somewhere out there in the universe and we should not expect mediation to do that for us – we do that for ourselves. The glasses as they itch on my nose while I am meditating remind me that I make my own bliss and happiness right here in the moment laughing and appreciating the rare and sometimes odd gifts that the wild cards in life bring to me.
—
Note: I also want to thank Cosmic Jim Naeseth, Living Chapter’s tried and true Referee and my good friend. He may not be a kid, but his mind is young and free and always inserting a bit of HUMOR in every situation that he finds himself in. This past trip to the island was for the purpose of sorting out the million details and decisions that he needed to make while building his dream house in the tropics. Thank you to Jim for letting me be a part of his sometimes serious and serendipitous adventure. I feel lucky to be along on his journey at this point in my existential chapter.
9/18/13
Just finding this blog today? Read more about the Living Chapters project here.
Living Chapters 