Paris Recap: From a Writer's Notebook

 I've been doing a lot of reflecting lately. Some of it is required for my May Term: typing up my Paris journals, trying to fit my experiences into concise paragraphs. Some of it is personal: A letter-writing project my friend and I are embarking in our year apart (she's studying abroad next semester, I'm studying abroad in the spring). Either way, there are times I wish I could bottle memories rather than sifting them through my brain and onto the page. Understanding events in your life takes perspective, which often requires distance and time. The problem is, the longer I wait, the fuzzier the memories become. Over the past few days I've been re-reading everything I wrote in Paris: journal entires, notes, lists, and observations. I'll be sharing my thoughts on other aspects of Paris here in the coming weeks (I promise), but for now I want to share with you some of the things I wrote while I was abroad.

My Favorite Things About Paris: (an ongoing list that I added to throughout the trip)

- Little French children in a adorable outfits

- Accordion players on the Metro

- Old man on a scooter in a maroon colored pinstripe suit and rainbow socks

- Colorful doors that lead to secret places

- Gigantic roses (seriously, though)

On Shakespeare and Company:

I am sitting in the reading room of Shakespeare and Company. The window is open and jazz music wafts in from below. The floor is a mess of hexagonal tiles and the room itself, not to mention the whole building, feels a little like it could topple at any moment. A white cat doses on one of the only unoccupied chairs. In the hallways just outside of the reading room there is a cubby hole where people can leave notes. This place feels timeless, or rather like it makes time stand still. You walk into the bookstore and you have entered a world where the only thing that matters is the written word, where words are literally holding up the walls. It is a bit dingy, crowded, and cramped, but I would expect nothing less. For being in the center of a major tourist district, it still feels remarkably isolated. As I write this the bells of Notre Dame are ringing...

On Versailles:

My first impression of Versailles, similar to most people, was the gold. Gold detailing is everywhere, and not just in the Hall of Mirrors. The gold on the front of the building is almost blinding, which seems only fitting considering Louis XIV was known as the "Sun King." The next thing I noticed was the lushness of the fabrics. Everything is so ornate, and every single surface is covered. I found it really interesting how none of the rooms were fully private spaces. Even the bedrooms were places where people could gather, with only a railing separating the king's bed from the rest of the room. My favorite part of Versailles, and the part that put the whole rest of the chateau in perspective, was the Grand Trianon and Marie Antoinette's hamlet. Both of these spaces felt completely different from the palace. They were quieter and smaller, with less abundance of gold and ornate decoration. They were still beautiful spaces fit for royalty, but I felt like I could breath there. If the chateau in the 18th century was anywhere near as crowded as the modern-day palace crawling with tourists, I know that the Grand Trianon and the hamlet would have been a welcome change from all the suffocating grandeur of Versailles.

On Paris in general:

My favorite places in Paris are the quiet ones: the old roman arena, the churches, the little courtyards I stumble across, the reading room in Shakespeare and Company. Even in a bustling city it is so comforting to know that around every corner is the possibility of seeing a church or a garden that I can slip into. It is as if the whole city is built around these contemplative spaces, and they are inviting you to sit and ponder or read or draw. When I see someone bent over their phone in a Paris garden it breaks my heart. 

A poem I wrote for class. I'll probably end up revising it, but here it is in its original state, as it was scribbled in my notebook:

Ode to an Old Man in Rainbow Socks

Paris is the old man in rainbow socks

that I saw weaving between traffic on a scooter

perfectly at ease in the ever-changing geometry

of the street. His pinstripe suit, the color of wine,

is perfect and unwrinkled.

On the metro I examine the feet of strangers

ankles bare or woolen, bumpy or smooth.

We are in a submarine and the old man

is a maroon fish, his helmet glittering like a single eye.

At 5pm the light slants, as though the city

were a glass of water, tilted and held up to the sun.

Blink, and the light shatters on the stone

floor of the cathedral.

Blink, and the city smells of rain and roses.

The sun warms your neck but you hair is already drenched.

Blink, and the man in the rainbow socks kicks off

from the pavement, a whirl of color at his feet.

Blink, and the city is itself again --

the smell of cigarettes

your bag digging into your shoulder

your hair damp with rain

Vignettes from the Recent Past, Pictures from Today

I. 

More often than not, Cedar Rapids feels like one big strip mall. Most of the green spaces are hemmed in by concrete. The city smells different depending on what flavor of cereal the Quaker Oats factory is churning out, and on sunny Saturdays the streets fill with motorcycles. Sometimes, though, I find things I never expect. Across the river from downtown there is an amphitheater that plays the sounds of Canada Geese over loud speakers every fifteen minutes. Nearby is a sculpture made out of recycled glass that creates a fun-house mirror effect when you stand underneath it. Every time I feel like everything has become homogenous, I find a random stretch of road made out bricks or a charming, vine covered building. While I occasionally wish I'd gone to school in place closer to nature (usually while scrolling through Instagram), Cedar Rapids is teaching me that everything can be interesting, if you let it. 

II.

After a long winter, sunny days are a shock to the system. Yesterday, our first official day of summer, my friends and I laid in the grass and took selfies. Somehow we had gone the whole year without getting a single picture of the four of us together. The moment was both sublime and melancholy: one of my friends is transferring to another school, and another is going to be abroad next semester. As I watch the graduation tents go up on the quad, I can't help feeling that quintessential stirring that accompanies every step into the unknown. In just a few days time I'll be on a plane headed for Paris. I'm both excited and stressed, and meanwhile summer has me intoxicated with heady feelings of freedom. Every day for the past few days, the clouds roll in around 4pm. The wind picks up. The temperature drops. The rain falls at an angle, with a force that stings bare skin. Everything is motion. Summer is here, and the world is all a-flutter. 

III.

Every day I see pictures of places I want to live someday. The impossibly green pastures of Ireland. The deep, dark conifers of the Northwest. Blue sky stretching above West Texas like a drum. It makes me want to speed up time, run faster, do more. What's lost in the gap between here and there? Every day I face the delusion that I should be somewhere else, when really this is the only place I can be, and the only place I am. I am reminded of this every time I see a familiar face, or double over laughing at something a friend has said. I am reminded on late night pancake runs and Sunday morning conversations with my roommates. Every time the wanderlust catches hold, it's the people that keep me grounded. This is my little place in this big, messy world. I'm not going to waste my time wishing it was somewhere else.

Five Books for Earth Day

I've always loved Earth Day, but I'm usually not very good at celebrating it. I think that being environmentally conscious starts, not with recycling or water conservation (though those things will come later), but with a deeply rooted appreciation and respect for the natural world. So, to help you celebrate Earth Day, here's a quick list of my favorite books about nature and the environment:

1. Wild Ones: A Sometimes Dismaying, Weirdly Reassuring Story about Looking at People Looking at Animals in America by Jon Mooallem

This book was my favorite non-fiction book last year, and it has earned its place in my top 10 books of all time. As the title suggests, it examines the lengths that humans will go to save endangered species, and believe me, we will do dome crazy things. From air-lifting polar bears out of Churchill, Alaska, to tirelessly counting butterflies the size of fingernails, humans will often go to extreme lengths to save certain species but not others. Wrapped up in all of this is science, politics, tourism, and even teddy bears. Wild Ones is a funny, gorgeously written, and at times very poignant look at the way humans view the environment and the animals we share it with. If you only read one book on this list, it should really be this one. 

Bonus: I heard about this book through one of my favorite podcasts, 99% Invisible. In this episode you'll hear parts of the book read aloud with musical accompaniment, and it's one of my favorite things ever.

2. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard

Annie Dillard's strength is observation. Reading this book is a lot like going on a nature walk and suddenly seeing every insect, every bird, every path made by a slug, every place where a frog laid their eggs in shallow water. While reading this book, I found myself looking at an altered world. Sunlight slanted differently through the leaves of trees. The air smelled of pine and earth and water. Everything felt more alive than it had before. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek will teach you, by example, to always be alert to the world around you. What really, could be more important? 

To give you some idea of how powerful her prose is, here is one of my favorite quotes:

"I was sitting on the sycamore log bridge with the sunset at my back, watching the shiners the size of minnows who were feeding over the muddy sand in skitter schools. Again and again, one fish, then another, turned for a split second across the current and flash! the sun shot out from its silver side. I couldn't watch for it. It was always just happening somewhere else, and it drew my vision just as it disappeared [....] So I blurred my eyes and gazed towards the brim of my hat and saw a new world. I saw the pale white circles roll up, roll up, like the world's turning, mute and perfect, and I saw the linear flashes, gleaming silver, like stars being born at random down a rolling scroll of time. Something broke and something opened. I filled up like a new skin. I breathed an air like light; I saw a light like water."

3. Never Cry Wolf by Farley Mowat

Never Cry Wolf is the (possibly fictionalized?) memoir of a governmental scientist's journey into the Alaskan wilderness. It is a beautiful look not only at a mostly unexplored wilderness, but the people and animals who live there. Originally published in 1963, it's also a fascinating window into the scientific process more than half a century ago. 

Favorite quote: "Somewhere to the east a wolf howled, lightly, questioningly. I knew the voice, for I had heard it many times before. It was George, sounding the wasteland for an echo from the missing members of his family. But for me it was a voice which spoke of the lost world which was once ours before we chose the alien role; a world which I had glimpsed and almost entered, only to be excluded, at the end, by my own self."

Bonus: It also got turned a beautiful and moving film that is definitely worth watching.





4. The Poetry of Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver is one of my favorite poets. She seamlessly interweaves the spiritual world with the natural world, and can encompass both minute detail and vast philosophical ideas in a single stanza. Her poems speak to both the vitality of the human spirit as well as powerful transcendent quality that our environment can bring into our lives. Next time you plan to take a walk in the woods or along the shore of a deserted beach, I highly recommend bringing along a book of Mary Oliver's poetry.

My favorite poem: Wild Geese

Bonus: Here is a rare and wonderful interview that Mary Oliver did on Krista Tippet's podcast/radio show On Being.







5. The Oldest Living Things in the World by Rachel Sussman

I have yet you actually get my hands on this book, but ever since I learned about it on BrainPickings, I can't get it out of my head. The book is the result of a long term project in which Rachel Sussman took it upon herself to photograph the oldest living things on Earth. From 3,000 year old Chilean lichen to the 80,000 year old Pando forest in Utah, this book's beautiful photographs put the fleeting nature of our own lives in sharp relief.


Maria Popova on The Oldest Living Things in the World: "Above all, however, the project raises questions that aren't so much scientific or artistic as profoundly human: What is the meaning of human life if it comes and goes before a patch of moss has reached the end of infancy? How do our petty daily stresses measure up against a struggle for survival stretching back millennia? Who would we be if we relinquished our arrogant conviction that we are Earth's biological crown jewel?"

I think I'll just leave you to sit with this question for a little while. Feel free to leave the titles of your favorite nature-related books in the comments, or if you've read any of the books on this list. Most of all, have a wonderful Earth Day!

A Place Outside of Time

There comes a point near the end of every semester when time speeds up. There are just four weeks until finals, and the amount of work I have to do before then seems ridiculously out of proportion to how quickly the days are flying by. This past weekend however, I found myself in a place that felt completely outside of time: the Como Park Zoo and Conservatory.

I spent Easter in the Twin cities with my roommate, and on our second day there we visited the conservatory with her grandmother. The day was just chilly enough to make the fragrant humidity a welcome change. We only saw the Palm Dome, Sunken Garden, and Bonsai exhibit, with a speedy walk through the Japanese Garden. We didn't even get a chance to visit the zoo. Even so, the conservatory made a big impression on me.

The conservatory was celebrating its 100 year anniversary, and stepping inside felt a little like going back in time. There was something timeless and location-less about it, and I could easily imagine people in the early 20th century doing much the same things as their 21st century counterparts.  Artists setting up easels to paint the gardens. Lovers walking the paths arm and arm. Children making a wish before tossing a penny into one of the fountains. 

Suddenly the outside world and all of its trappings fell away. I forgot I was in a city. I forgot about school, and that we'd be making the long haul back to Iowa later that day. Instead I walked around in a daze, marveling at the contrast (or perhaps the similarity) between the ribbed windows above and the spindly leaves all around. 

(When I took this picture, the woman behind me commented and said "I wonder how many people have that exact same photograph." There's something really cool about that.)

After about five minutes, there was no denying that I was in love. This place managed to combine the sensory experience of being in nature with the peaceful, contemplative state of mind native to art museums. If I lived anywhere nearby, I'd probably visit every other weekend.

Now more than ever, I think it's important to have places where we can simply give in to experience. Places like the conservatory facilitate a slower, focus-driven way of thinking, from the closeness of the palms in the main atrium to the intricacy of the bonsai trees. Even the organized beauty of the sunken garden has something to offer in the way of contemplation and attention. All you have to do is give in to the spell of the conservatory: the hush of running water, the feeling of freedom from the rules of time and space, and the connection to something simpler, greater, and altogether too beautiful to capture on camera. You just have to experience it for yourself.

Until next time, then.

A Drop in the Bucket: A Look at my Done Journal

I hate to-do lists. There, I said it. For years I thought the only way to be productive was to make to-do lists and then cry silently for all the things left unfinished at the end of the day. I never got the same satisfaction as other people from crossing items off the list, because somehow everything I still had to do blotted out the any short lived feelings of accomplishment. Plus, I'm terrible at prioritizing. Something needed to change.

The idea of a "Done Journal" is not mine. It's been around for a while, and there are even some apps out there for it, the most popular being iDoneThis. (I haven't tried it, only heard of it) The concept itself is basically a retroactive to-do list, where you write down tasks you've completed rather than things you need to do. The thing that attracted me the most about this idea is that you actually have to do something in order to put it on the list. It sounds obvious, but it's actually extremely powerful. A to-do list is something you create for your future self. You don't get any pleasure out of it until you actually finish a task (or two, or three), and even then it is all too easy to get overwhelmed by the items still on your list. A done list, on the other hand, brings immediate satisfaction. You've just completed a task! You get to add that thing to all the other things you've done that day, that week, that year. You're a rock star!

Okay, so maybe it's weird to get excited over something as small as replying to e-mail, or running errands. But keeping a done list (and a done journal) gives you permission to feel good about yourself and your accomplishments, not matter how small they are. This is the main reason I love done lists, and why I now have a journal for them.

About the supplies: The notebook that became my done journal was part of a three pack set from Greenroom. Once I got to college I started using greenroom notebooks almost exclusively because I was so tired of the boring spiral notebooks they'd make us use in elementary and middle school. (I hold my stationary grudges for a long time, folks). Anyway, they are pretty durable, lightweight, and made out of recycled materials. Plus I find they are the perfect size for this purpose.

I began with categories. I wanted my journal to feel deliberate, creative, and thoughtful, rather than just a hap-hazard record of what I've done. If I can color code something, I always do it. By tagging each item with a different color, I can see at a quick glance what parts of my life I'm spending the most time on. Also, I needed an excuse to use my colorful pens.

Despite my gushing above, starting a done journal didn't magically make me a more productive person. There are still days when I feel crappy about not getting enough done, or I look back at my day and realize that I didn't accomplish anything important. I've noticed that I have to write down the date in the morning before I've finished anything or I don't have the motivation to start working until much later. The other thing that has been helpful is writing down my thoughts at the end of the day about what I accomplished, what I wish I'd done, or simply something that happened to me that day. It's a great way to de-stress and avoid feeling overwhelmed. Can your to-do list do that?

Lastly, the done journal does not completely obliterate the need for a to-do list. As much as I hate to admit it, I still use them to keep track of what I need to do. But since starting my done journal, to-do lists have become more of a tool for remembrance than motivation. The stress-free satisfaction that comes from adding an accomplishment to my done journal is what keeps me going day after day.

This post is the beginning of what I am hoping will become a long running series. Keeping a done journal is one of the items on my creative bucket list*, a compilation of all the creative stuff I want to make or learn about over the course of my lifetime. Each time I cross a new item off the list I'll write a post about it, complete with pictures, stories, and insight into what I've learned. Right now my unofficial goal is to complete one bucket list item every month, though some will take longer than others, and some are ongoing, like the done journal. So far my done journaling experience has been a positive one, and I hope this will inspire you to give it a try.

*At this point you're probably wondering how I can hate to-do lists, but have a 74 item bucket list. The reason is this: My bucket list is a pressure-free space. There is no one demanding I do any of the things on the list by a certain date. Thus I can chip away at it and not feel overwhelmed.

Everyday Magic

Sometimes I fall into a rut of thinking that I've seen all there is to see. I open a book hoping that it will make me feel something, but what I'm actually hoping for are the normal feelings, the quickening heart beat countered by the knowledge that it will work out in the end. And then something comes a long that completely cracks open my world view. It makes me feel something I didn't even know it was possible to feel. It makes me see the world just a little bit differently.

Last night I had one of the most intense movie-watching experiences of my life. My friend and I watched the latest Studio Ghibli film, The Tale of Princess Kaguya. This movie will lift you up and break your heart. It will will make you feel peaceful and anxious, bitter and and full of wonder. It made me cry big, ugly tears.

The film is based on a Japanese folk tale, and the animation style reflects its origins. The colors are subdued, and the figures are less defined than they are in other Ghibli films. It contains some of the most beautifully animated sequences I've ever seen. It baffles me why it didn't win the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature (and lost to Big Hero 6, for that matter).

A friend and I were talking recently about how we usually feel a stronger connection to books than we do to films. I think about my favorite books on a daily basis, but I rarely contemplate movies I watched a long time ago. I have a feeling this film will be different. I feel different for having seen it.

Before watching this film I was so used to stories making me feel the same way that I had begun to take them for granted. I was certainly not expecting to end up in a puddle of tears, or to still be thinking about Princess Kaguya when I woke up this morning. Sometimes it's hard to believe that the things I love - my favorite books, films, and poems - were created by another human being. They feel too much like a gift from the universe, sent to me right when I need it most. I think Charles de Lint said it best with this quote:

"I do believe in an everyday sort of magic - the inexplicable connectedness we sometimes experience with places, people, works of art, and the like; the eerie appropriateness of moments of synchronicity; the whispered voice, the hidden presence, when we think we're alone."

I'm not sure if what I've learned from Princess Kaguya has to do with the film itself or that I happened to see it at this point in time, but I do know that I'm not going to take stories for granted anymore. I've learned to always seek out the things that make you feel vulnerable, the things that lift you up and tear you down and ultimately change your perspective. This is the everyday magic, and it doesn't matter where you find it as long as you don't fall into the trap of forgetting that it's there.

ps. If you noticed that I didn't give you a film synopsis, it's because I went into this movie not knowing anything about it, and I really think it's better that way.

This Is Who I Am Now

"Rules for Self Discovery:

1. What we want most

2. What we think about most

3. How we use our money

4. What we do with our leisure time

5. The company we enjoy

6. Who and what we admire

7. What we laugh at"

-A.W. Tozier

1. Unlimited writing time; that breathless, teary eyed laughter; freedom from unnecessary time-sucks;  creative collaboration; being surrounded by enthusiastic people; travel opportunities; room to explore varied interests

2. Stories; words; dogs; photography; the last podcast episode I listened to; the future; memories of the people I love; Shakespeare; learning to play the mandolin; my to-do list; the last book I read; the universe; faraway places

3. Coffee; chocolate; books; cross-country train tickets; concerts; school supplies; the occasional twirly dress

4. Read; write; watch youtube videos; participate in long conversations; take walks; have impromptu dance parties; go to coffee shops; daydream; sketch; listen to music and podcasts

5. Friends; family; dogs; enthusiastic people; artists; book lovers; travelers; people with a high tolerance for embarrassment; storytellers; perceptive people; knowledgable people; nature; books; silence

6. Anyone who is unapologetic about what they love; perseverance; Shannon Hale; John and Hank Green; people who are experts at something; Emily Graslie; optimism; generosity; anyone who is trying to make a difference for other people; Jad Abumrad; Roman Mars; my best friend; people who are good at time management

7. Goofy faces; puns; my dog; word play; inside jokes; catch phrases; old memories; strangers who do/say weird things