Make a list of songs that make you feel good and happy. Whatever music delights you.
Listen to these songs regularly, on purpose. Repeat as necessary. The positive feelings you get from these songs and their messages—especially because they come from music—may start to nudge out the voice of that certain unhelpful someone. This actually works—sometimes my feel-good songs jump into my head spontaneously.
Dance whenever you feel like it.
If you want to, share your list with a friend, or hum or sing the songs whenever you require an energy shift or some sunshine.
You’ll have your own songs. Here are some of mine: Anne Harris, “Lullaby”; Prince, “I Would Die 4 U” (esp. the cover by Anne Harris); Talking Heads, “This Must Be The Place”; Staples Singers, “I’ll Take You There”; Curtis Mayfield, “Move On Up”; Singing Sweet, “When I See You Smile”; Waco Brothers, “Plenty Tough & Union Made”; Erykah Badu, “Back In The Day”; Pharrell Williams, “Happy”; Sufjan Stevens, “Chicago”; Bruno Mars, “Uptown Funk”; Style Council, “You’re The Best Thing”; The Roots, “You Got Me” (esp. live with Jill Scott and Erykah Badu); Belle and Sebastian, “If She Wants Me”; Muwosi, “Who I Am”; Ini Kamoze, “Here Comes The Hotstepper”; Pentatonix, “Cheerleader”; Snoop Dogg, “Beautiful”…
Published in 1977, the book depicts a family of field mice, who live in New York City (or near—the illustrations include a Zabar’s bag). The mice are preparing to move, and rather than get rid of their rubbish, they keep and move their collections of egg cartons, orange juice cans, yarn spools, old magazines, etc., which means they need seven moving vans. “Mr. and Mrs. Fieldmouse’s new house was an old house,” says the start of Chapter Two. Once inside the new old house, they must decide where to put all the rubbish. It lands in the garage. When Uncle Alfred and Aunt Kate come to visit in chapter three, the Fieldmouse family must clear out the garage so their visitors won’t have to park on the street. They lug the rubbish from the garage (“Garages are for cars,” says Mother Fieldmouse) into the new old house. The visitors arrive, and remark upon the nice new old house which has no place to sit down. In Chapter Four, Uncle Alfred—perched impossibly on the top of a tower of old magazines—says, “Look at all the things you can make with rubbish!” The field mice proceed to make lions, tigers, horses, bears, a top hat, then snakes, a trapeze, monkeys, a clown, a rattle, a family of elephants, a microphone, opera glasses, a hoop, a cannon, turtles, pedestals, cups, owls, a rabbit, and cages. “We have made a whole circus!” says Uncle Alfred. They take everything into the garage and present The Greatest Show On Earth.
Like my neighbor Becky, the illustrations are sweet and more than a little mischievous—these dear mice are always in motion, stuffing toilet paper tubes into bags, tripping over spools. It’s a fabulous book. (It’s out of print, but findable in libraries, and definitely findable on eBay or abebooks.) (Thank you, dear Becky.)
As soon as we read it, we decided to start a What Can You Make Of It? bin. We kept whatever seemed it would be useful. Our child made tons of creations from the bin. It became a reflex—if she needed something, someone would say look in the What Can You Make Of It bin!
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I come from a family, a culture of rubbish-keepers. The central thing may be to find something to make from the leftovers. Letting it sit around and gather dust or take up space meant for other things will (eventually) stop working. To keep everything forever is not sustainable.
A lived life may be full of discarded rubbish. A day lived, memories, experiences. When I write memoir, I go to the bin, see what’s there, tape it together, arrange it with something else—trying, always, to see what I can make of it. If I make something, if I even try, even when it doesn’t turn out how I imagine, doesn’t that mean this life is more than just emptied and spent days? Doesn’t that mean it’s more than rubbish?
p.s. Boycott Amazon and big box stores! Support your local, independent bookstores! These people and places support human culture, and they are vital to our survival!
If you are like me, you know in your bones that these times call for much inspiration and fortification! So please do whatever you can to support independent, collective, human-scale publishing, and eschew the monsters of big capitalism!
Head over to the Literary Kitchen’s Underground Book Shelter to purchase fabulous, unique, humanity-expanding books.
I recently read The Hidden Messages in Water by Masaru Emoto. This book is amazing. I know its premise may be wobbly, or pseudo-science, but when I don’t ask it to prove itself and when I allow imagination and read it like a novel (or at least as a non-skeptic), I find the narrative extremely compelling and hypnotic. Like, what if?
From p.151:
“We all have an important mission: To make water clean again, and to create a world that is easy and healthy to live in. In order to accomplish our mission, we must make sure that our hearts are clear and unpolluted.
Over the centuries, humankind has constantly robbed from the earth, and left it ever more polluted—the history of which is recorded by water. Now, water is beginning to speak to us. Through water crystals, it is telling us what we need to know.
Starting today, we must begin to carve out a new history. Water is carefully and quietly watching the direction we take—the direction that you take at this very moment—and watching over us all.
I only ask that you listen to and absorb what water has to say—to all of humankind, and to you.”
This book is hypnotic, and laden with story-truths that I can’t look away from. Somehow it’s reassuring even as it deals with devastation. Somehow there’s optimism here, despite the end of everything. I think it has to do with hope.
From p. 107: “People hope the things they hope. You can’t do much about that.”
WANT TO HAVE SOME FUN? Please join me on Sunday, July 28, from 3-5pm, at the Emporium! I will read new stories and then lead an (optional) activity or two from Dear Inner Critic: a self-doubt activity book. Books will be available for purchase.
In 2023, I took a fabulous year-long online writing class with Ariel Gore called Mavens of Mythmaking. Some highlights:
I completed a short story collection called What To Keep, for which I am seeking a publisher.
I finished a full revamp/revision of my novel The Watery Girl. This year, I will seek publication.
The memoir about my childhood home continues to emerge and evolve—in fragments and fractals—which, I am learning, is how this thing is meant to be written. Some day it will be a book.
My newest book,Dear Inner Critic: a self-doubt activity book, grew from years of renegotiating my relationship with the inner critic. Many readers have attended workshops and reframed self-doubt with me. Thanks for your good company! (Who knew a handful of tricks would grow into a real book?!)
This book is built from L-O-V-E. My keenest hope is that it will help people free the creative urge. (If I have anything to offer humanity, this book is it.)
On the journey toward creative liberation, I have trodden this self-doubt path myself. The tricks in this book have changed my life.
Soon, Dear Inner Critic will be available from the Literary Kitchen (literarykitchen.org). Please subscribe to my blog or follow my instagram for more information.
