Terami.com Blog

Old habits die hard. Creative habits die harder. In the world of creativity our habits are designed like scaffolding to support our nonlinear exploration of art and the world. We look for inspiration in particular ways, we work at certain hours, we pace ourselves according to what has proven to work for us. In the end we continue these habits because they consistently give us an acceptable outcome; we have a finished project.

However, like all others, creative habits might not always serve us. We may outgrow them, they may become dull or maybe they never worked that well in the first place. When this happens, how long will you spend in an effort to revive them and why are you so attached anyhow? Spencer Johnson, M.D. wrote a book about this called Who Moved My Cheese? and he goes into detail about what’s behind our fear of change. It’s been a long time since I’ve read that book but the first thing that pops into my mind in answer to the question is discomfort.

We’re not comfortable being uncomfortable. We’re almost superstitious about the way we do everything, believing that for us there’s only one approach to whatever we’re trying to solve. Life problems are no different from creative problems. The way I solve a life issue is the same way I solve a creative one. In my case, I automatically become emotional and obsess on details. While I realize other people may use logic and the big picture in order to solve their problems, in the past I have discounted that approach for myself because it is totally unfamiliar and disorienting.

A BREAKTHROUGH - or how my 365 project made me uncomfortable
When I started my 365, one of the things I realized was it is a rapid-pace idea generating exercise, built for long term stamina. I wasn’t going to be able to use my emotional/detail-oriented creative habits to get myself through this project. I had to decide what I valued more, my comfort zone or a new creative adventure. Of course I chose the adventure but it wasn’t without serious growing pains.

What most people say when they consider a 365 project is, “I don’t think I could do that EVERY DAY”. They follow their statement with a reason why not: I’d get so bored. I don’t have time. I’d run out of ideas. The way I translate these excuses is people are afraid to shake things up or be temporarily uncomfortable in place of a long term benefit. This isn’t a judgment. Not everybody should do a 365 project just like not everybody should volunteer in a soup kitchen or train for a marathon. There are conditions to these things that aren’t acceptable to some people and it’s good to know your limits and priorities. It isn’t helpful to jump on every idea that comes your way (and I don’t suggest you do!) but remember than an automatic “no” isn’t the answer either.

As a result of saying “yes” to my 365 project, I’ve stretched myself into a new position where I am capable of seeing the big picture. At first I hated this perspective because it was overwhelming and almost panic inducing. It felt suffocating to say to myself, “one day down, 3-6-4 to go”. The number of days loomed large and the year felt like it could swallow me. However, after eventually succumbing to the reality of the hugeness of the project, it actually began to look quite small. I learned to focus on my daily work as part of a larger project and equally appreciate both the immediate and long term aspects of my work. After all my years of being alive, this is the first time I’ve ever been able to get past my detail-oriented point of view long enough to benefit from a fresh perspective.

WELL, THAT’S NICE BUT… - or here’s a shortcut
So, you’re not sold on starting a 365 project but you’re curious about testing my theory that you have a creative comfort zone of your own and it’s not doing you any favors.

I suggest you grab a pen and paper and make two columns. One will represent your creative projects and the other will represent your daily life. Describe how you approach each. Be as specific or as vague as you want. When you’re finished, look at the words or ideas that are similar. These are the borders of your comfort zone.

Pick one of these ideas/words and decide for the next week to try the opposite approach in your creative and daily life. Set yourself up to do experiments.

For example, in my little list below, the first word I happened to write down in both columns is “slow”. (I’m a snail, people!) So for this exercise, I will remind myself over the next week that I need to be quick. I will set deadlines. I will make quick household decisions, I will not procrastinate, I will be as time-efficient as possible. Maybe I won’t like it. Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll return to being slow in the future but I’ll realize that I’m actually capable of being quick when I need to be and the world won’t fall apart because of it. (Notice that I put little check marks on a couple of other habits…that’s because I like those ones, they’re keepers!)

Just push yourself a little bit, enough to make yourself uncomfortable but not irritated. Go gently. Become aware of your edges, laugh at them. Try new ideas without feeling the burden of permanency. Notice when you feel discomfort and what distractions you use to avoid the feeling. Observe yourself. Surprise yourself. What else can you learn about being too comfortable? What else do you only assume to be a limitation? How many ways can you become habitually limber?

My hope for you is that you will see discomfort as nothing but a small block and once you can move past it, you will be far more empowered to go on to new adventures.

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In the beginning of most endeavors, we find ourselves excited about possibility. Over time our initial enthusiasm fades and we risk quitting if we don’t refuel our thinning energy with new challenges, inspiration or encouragement. In my case, over the course of ten years, I was able to maintain my enthusiasm for my work despite my lack of wild success because I knew I would become a better musician if I kept at it. The thought of becoming “better” continually inspired me. When asked, I would announce to people that the process of creating is more exciting to me than the product I eventually create.

However, last year I found myself in a very dark place. It seems “A Decade” was my mental end point for how much process I could endure before I needed a little pat on the back for my efforts. But the universe doesn’t work that way. Ten years is nothing and rewards are subjective.

Without being conscious of it, I harbored a secret expectation that if I focused on the process in some sort of noble way, I would eventually be rewarded with success. It’s disappointing, frustrating and depressing to realize that this is just a form of magical thinking. It’s the good girl syndrome: If I’m nice, people will like me. If I work hard, people will notice. If I build it, they will come.

As artists and as human beings, we need to recognize how destructive it is to work for a future outcome that hinges on other people giving us reward.

To double-whammy my dark year, not only was I depressed about the seeming futility of my past ten years, but I hated to discover that I am one of those people who cares about something as pedestrian as success. I wanted to be above all that, to be without an expiration date, to be infinitely appreciative about the fortunate circumstance I have in being an artist. Perhaps such a person exists but I now realize I’m not one of them.

So what does this mean? Am I inauthentic? Am I shallow? Do I not have what it takes? Or have I let myself fall into a trap of thinking that devalues success out of fear? I’m pretty sure it’s the last one.

ANALYSIS - or the ugly truth
Perhaps this is the up-side to my frustrating sense of cosmic defeat: after I selfishly gave myself ten years to have a passive aggressive relationship with success, now that the time was up, I had to snap out of it and say with conviction whether or not I value the work I create. Yes I value the process, but do I value the work, the outcome, the product? It’s emotionally risky, you see, for a person to say that they value something tangible (like their album, their gadget, their business) because with the hard evidence in front of them, other people can (and will) strongly disagree. It’s much safer to say, “This is my album. I’m proud of it and all, but the real thing I’m proud of was how hard it was to make (and that’s why I deserve for you to buy it).”

What do you expect people to say once you exclude them from the thing you’re willing to admit has any value to you (your process?) Why would you expect them to appreciate the little trinkety thing you made and admitted is less important to you than something they will never get to experience (again, your magical process)?

This expectation isn’t a trap just for introverts like myself. Even bragadocious people hide behind their “hard work” as an excuse for expecting people to appreciate their product. We all exhibit our issues with the success/fail relationship in different ways, but we all still have this relationship.

ANSWER - or how i asked the right question
It’s a luxury and a challenge to be able to spend my time in meta-cognition, analyzing where I’ve gone wrong and what the next steps are in my path to doing something meaningful with my life. While I’ve explored these issues over the past year, I took on a little project which has unintentionally helped me along my way and I want to share with you what I’ve learned.

On November 13, 2008, a woman who I barely knew, with whom I had recently connected on Facebook, posted a status update about working on her “365”.

Curiosity.

So I posted a response, asking her, “What’s a 365?”. Her answer: every day for a full year (365 days), she takes a self-portrait and posts it on Flickr as a way of being creative and sharing her day with others.

At the time, I was half way through NaNoWriMo, a month-long novel writing exercise in which I participated in order work out some of my creative demons. All of a sudden, it sounded like fun to take on this self-portrait project too. Initially, I did it out of the sense of possibility I mentioned earlier in this post. It was fun, different and exciting. I said, “yes!” to the project the minute I learned about it and had my first image posted on Flickr within the hour. Drowning myself in creative distractions is what I do best.

However, today is October 1, 2009. I am 323 days into my 365 day project and I can assure you it’s been no mere creative distraction. What I’ve learned along the way has been a mind-shattering, life-affirming experience. As this project draws to a close for me I will post some of the lessons, realizations and breakthroughs I’ve had along the way. Most of these lessons directly relate to the struggle I’ve outlined throughout my story but they are not limited to creative applications.

You can probably imagine some of the topics I’ll write about: perfectionism, mastery, inspiration, resources, talent and stamina. However, there were tons of surprises along the way including a sense of style, new friendships, better dreams, more open mindedness, faith and the discovery of a love of discipline.

YOU - or how you can learn what i learned
I don’t know how many articles I will write for you. My notes on the subject seem to be endless. I also don’t know yet how often I’ll post my thoughts here, if I’ll write long essays (like this one), or short quips of insight. However, if there’s one little lesson I can share with you now it’s that it’s always better to throw ideas (big and small) out into the universe shamelessly, ardently and often. I look forward to writing about something I’ve learned…the examination of our process to become better at what we do and how to balance that with the ability to value what the experience creates in the end, despite what anyone else has to say about it.

My 365 project.

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What follows is my list of media amusements from last year. As with all my yearly best lists, these things were not necessarily released (merely discovered) in the last year.

ALBUMS
Aesop Rock - Labor Days
Yes it's hip hop. No, I'm not known for my progressive urban musical tastes. However, this is intelligent, meaningful, creative, and empowering music and I don't care that I "rap" along to it and fudge nearly every other word with my rhythmless enthusiasm. You will, too. It's amazing.

The Blow - Paper Television
Pretty much the soundtrack to the first half of my year. Also, my girl crush on Khaela Maricich is awesome.

Coldplay - Viva la Vida
I know. Massive band. Massive album. But that doesn't mean the music doesn't put shivers down my spine every time I listen.

Greg Laswell - Three Flights from Alto Nido
Alto Nido is a soaring, creative, heartbreaking collection of songs. I loved his previous album, Through Toledo, but incredibly, I love this album more.

Jesca Hoop - Kismet
In her bio, Jesca is described as a three-sided coin.

Yes. She is.

Kings of Leon - Only by the Night
Somehow an album with a single like "Sex on Fire" can also include the amazing song "Be Somebody" without cheapening either tune. This album is a whole lot of fun and has a whole lot of heart.

Muse - Absolution
Gotta admit, their roaring musical swells and bombastic use of the arpeggiator won me over. Unabashed theatrics and musical glee...with amazing chord progressions.

The National - Boxer
Simple, intelligent, emotional, evocative album with depths and layers to it that seemingly never cease to unfold.

SONGS
The Black Ghosts - Full Moon
Black Lab - Mine Again
Fredrik - Black Fur (The link takes you to their album page, not just the song page because the whole album is amazing, but I discovered it on December 30 and since it's not really fair to say that I listened to it in 2008, I decided against including the album on my best album list. But I couldn't NOT include this somewhere and wait a whole year before I tell the world how much I LOVE FREDRIK.)
Jay-Z - Moment of Clarity
Johnny and the Moon - The Ballad of Scarlet Town (Watch the video to hear the song...)
Kerli - Walking on Air
Prefuse 73 - Sabbatical with Options
Stereofix - A Day Without You
Yael Naim - Toxic (Yep, a cover of the Britney Spears song.)

FILMS
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
The King of Kong
Lars and the Real Girl
The Last King of Scotland
Let the Right One In
Slumdog Millionaire
Touching the Void
Young @ Heart

TELEVISION
Carnivale
Dexter (Season 1)

BOOKS
A New Earth, Eckhart Tolle
Let the Right One In, John Ajvide Lindqvist
The Twilight Saga, Stephenie Meyer

* SPECIAL MENTION
Ninja Cat

= = = = =

If you'd like to read the complete list of ALL things that Filled the Void in 2008, I've archived the list here.

Best of 2007.
Best of 2006.
Best of 2005.
Best of 2004.

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rabbits
cats
chinchillas
Ireland
Galway rain
Galway cobblestone
chimneys
dim lighting
pictures of important moments
wrinkles around Kevin's eyes
tea when it's raining outside
the piano
hand drums
chocolate
warm bread and butter
synchronicity
woodsy flowers
driving on an open road
time travel stories
giving unexpected gifts
traveling in Europe
crepes
speaking French
nocturnes by Chopin
big, rootsy trees
autumn
smell of dirt
riding in trains
shiny bugs
dragonflies
dragons
grasshoppers
straightforwardness
seasons
heating blankets
silver
green velvet
big eyes
possibility
puddles
mirrors
sunlight on cloudy days
cleverness
cottages
turtles
french doors
anticipation
treehouses
warm, sleeping cats
rabbit ears
flashlights
twirling dresses
feeling connected
nursery rhymes
manual cars
converse shoes
ugly boots
Tahitian ocean
motorscooters with Kevin
imagination
laughing
ladybugs
veiny leaves
receiving letters
making lists
discovering new art
ice cream
basslines
curly hair
crying when I'm sad
working at night
taking naps

The sweet bit to note is that the list is titled "100 Things I Love" and apparently I had so much fun with it, I listed 75 additional things. Just because.

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And the work that I've decided to share with the world has been only the surface level of things I believe I am capable of creating. Somewhere in me is an album of music that people will resonate with, something I haven't thought of before. But until then, it's like searching in the dark for an unfamiliar shape.

Ever since I returned from tour, sprained my thumbs, and had my epic breakdown of humiliating proportions, I've been looking for a way to scratch my way back to the surface...to a place where hopefully there will be light. In an attempt to release my burden, the first thing I did after I fell to pieces was to dismantle my studio. Since sometime in September, the only things left standing in this room have been my desk with its computer, a chair to sit on, and a small bookshelf. I had to do it. To clear out the cobwebs. To signal to myself STOP.

So, for the last two months, I have been sitting in an empty room, staring at stripped white walls. I've sorted cabinets, washed countless linoleum floors, read dozens of books, and prayed that some spark of inspiration would snap me back to life. As of today, I am still waiting for the spark. However, I determined that one of the best things I could do to stay busy was to give myself a creative challenge. So I pledged myself to NaNoWriMo this year, for the first time.

What does this mean? This means that for the month of November, I'm setting aside the notion that I'm a musician and songwriter. For this month, I am a novelist; and let me assure you that over the past five days, I've been the most atrocious novelist you'll ever not-read. Because I'm not a writer any more than I am a synchronized swimmer. The sheer force of accepting the challenge to write 50,000 words in thirty days is staggering. In fact, after my first two days of writing, the only thing I can focus on is word count. My characters are thin. My plot is nonsensical. My writing would make my Kindergarten teacher proud, but no one else. Still, I splash in this new challenge like it's the deepest pool I've ever had the luxury of swimming.

It's good to know that in twenty-five days from now, I will have hot proof in my hands (or on my hard drive) of a grand fabrication of my imagination. In the meantime, I will be sloppy, wild, riddled, and reckless for the first time in a long time...creativity without boundaries; permission to make goulash out of words; an exit strategy for musical depression. It's not enough to be an artist without an instrument. I dream of being an artist without a self-critic.

And that should pretty much catch you up to date on how I'm doing. Thumbs are much improved. Improved enough to type like a chatterbox for thirty days straight. Hallelujah.

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My mom seems to think that I was a difficult teenager. Moody. Dramatic. But I beg to differ because really how difficult can you be when the only thing you do is brood? Shut the door, problem solved.

Next, my twenties were a sea of numbness and confusion. A few really good things happened in those years, but mostly I was an idiot with a 9-5 job.

So it came as a complete shock to me when earlier this week my inner emo girl decided she needed some attention. One day I was a housewife with adorable hand splints and a positive My Fingers Will Heal Soon attitude, and the next day I suspected nothing short of amputation in my near future. The best part was when I was home alone at 2 am, crying into the carpet, staining little sections black with my mascara, ready to take out the xacto blade and do the surgery myself. I know you doubt stupidity like this happens in your thirties, but I assure you it does.

I spent the next 48 hours utterly delusional, convinced that by way of my sprained fingers, the universe was giving me a sign to stop living. I should clarify that for the past two months, I've been in pain. Aching pain, and the meds aren't working. And for the past month I've been on a largely liquid diet because I can't cut my own food and stabbing it with a fork is particularly humiliating. So there's the pain. And the hunger. And the utter frustration that I can't unbutton my pants because, dammit, these hot-looking jeans that I insist on wearing fit too tightly. Oh, yeah. And I haven't left the house in the past few weeks, except to go to the grocery for more liquid to drink and to go to the bookstore to pick up a copy of Breaking Dawn...don't get me started.

So these were all factors for you to consider when I tell you that I contemplated ripping down every happy looking photo of myself from our walls. Because. The happiness was mocking me.

And I contemplated tearing down my studio - because who can ever make music again when the universe is telling you to stop living? Next, I wanted to delete my websites so there was no digital proof of my existence before I set fire to this house and destroyed myself in the flames. Yes, life is just this miserable with sprained thumbs.

Sure, there was a removed part of my brain that was amused by my bad behavior, commenting, "This is the best entertainment we've had all year. I mean, this feels really good. We should do this more often. Maybe we'll blog about it in a few days. Don't forget to mention the part where we scream that there is no God. That's good stuff."

And then, last night my emotional fever broke. Suddenly I was all, Back to 1991 much? And I had newfound respect for my mother because I wanted to smack myself and realized how much self control it must have taken her to just shut the door between us. I could tell you right now it was good to get in touch with the angst, but that would be a lie because there are so many places on our carpeting and bedsheets that have little mascara butterfly stains and I'm a housewife at heart. Who hates stains. I'm just hoping that the few people I spoke with over the past few days will forgive me for contaminating their universe with my garbage. And so, with that said, I gladly publish the story on the internet. Because even though she's calmed down, my inner emo girl totally wants to put it out there.

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I can't type, except if I do the exhausting "hunt and peck" method. And I certainly can't play the piano. Or get into many yoga positions. I need to wear these things 24 hours/day. Sexy.

What happened? My first rockstar injury happened. No, not from headbanging, from lifting gear, or from too many hours intensely playing my instrument. My injury happened because during all those hours driving on tour, I had been holding the steering wheel in a bad position and sprained both of my thumbs and aggravated my tendonitis. Since I've been home I've been in denial, thinking the pain would go away. But I haven't been able to open doors, screw a toothpaste cap, or pull up my pants for five weeks. Can you think of a wussier rockstar way to injure yourself?

Go ahead. I dare you to try.

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- - - - - - - - - - -

You already know I released my fourth album "A Broke Machine" last month. Right?

Maybe you already know I'll be on a small U.S. tour over the next few weeks. Possibly, yes?

But I know you DEFINITELY didn't know about my new e-team, "Team Terami", because it was just announced today. The purpose of the Team is for you to be able to help me promote my music...which is a weird sentence for me to write. Normally, I don't like to ask for help. It's a character flaw. The house could be on fire and I'd be fighting it alone with nothing but a teacup and some old collected rain water. However, I'm so excited to introduce my new music to you and everyone else, that I realize I can't do it without your help.

So, to celebrate the release of "A Broke Machine" and my upcoming tour, please consider joining the e-team, which will be holding contest-based missions to help connect new listeners with my music. To join, all you need to do is log in (or register) at the Terami.com message boards in order to see the "hidden" Team Terami forums. All the information you need is posted in those forums, including the first mission which was announced today! (note: You will not be able to see the Team Terami forum unless you log in to your message board account!)

If you are the skeptical-type, then you can read a handy FAQ about the Team on Terami.com, here.

...and now I'll leave you with the very exciting tour dates...and hopefully we'll be able to connect at one of these shows!

May 18 - San Diego, CA (Lestat's)
May 21 - Austin, TX (Austin Java)
May 22 - Houston, TX (Waldo's Coffeehouse)
May 24 - Pensacola, FL (Et Cafe)
May 28 - Philadelphia, PA (InFusion Coffee and Tea)
May 29 - New York, NY (Rockwood Music Hall)
June 4 - Chicaco, IL (Silvie's Lounge)
June 6 - Minneapolis, MN (House Concert)
June 7 - Davenport, IA (Mojo's)
June 12 - Park City, UT (Celsius Lounge)
June 17 - Los Angeles, CA (Hotel Café)

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In this photo, I'm trying to simulate a caterpillar-eye's-view... Cuz if you were fuzzy and all you had going for you were three thoracic body segments and thirteen thousand legs, wouldn't you look up at this scene and think it's the perfect day to become a butterfly? Yes. You would.

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The whole experience is shades of unbelievable discomfort for me because I'm the girl in the class who is pausing while everyone else is holding their pose, which reminds me that joining the army is probably not a good idea for me. While we were doing some cobra pose variation, with everyone struggling to push through the pain, I completely collapsed on myself. My first thought was, "What if the yoga teacher was a drill sargeant? She would punish this whole group because I gave up. Oh dear. I am the weakest link." Once we were given permission to release cobra pose and rest on our stomach, little sweaty tears were dripping from my eyes as I realized I was that girl.

The yoga texts I've read all state that physical flexibility is only partially fueled by muscles, that the main support for poses comes from the flow of life energy in a person. So, when we have a blockage that keeps us from doing cobra pose (a-hem) it has less to do with our physiological lower back than it does with the spiritual and mental baggage which we hold as tension in that area. Oh, fantastic.

This yoga experience makes me wonder about why we have the continuing desire to pursue things that are not only physically challenging, but also completely without guarantee. There is no guarantee that after a year of doing yoga that I will be happier, healthier, or more capable of touching my toes. Sure, I'm hoping for all of those benefits, but it's just as likely that after a year of doing yoga, I'll only be slightly more capable and infinitely more frustrated. Yet, even though I weep my way through my poses, I can't help but put my faith in the boundless possibility that there is a way out of physical stress, mental cloudiness, and spiritual ache. Maybe the answer is Kundalini. Maybe it's something else. Or maybe it has nothing to do with what I do, but rather with how I open myself to my own potential.

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