Cultural Shift: Drive-In Versus Drive-Through

Photo by David Clode (Unsplash)

An iconic image of a tray hooked over the car window at the local drive-in movie sparked a thought for me this afternoon about how our culture has shifted over the years: from a time when parking in one spot long enough to enjoy a double-feature with family, friends or that special someone was a popular way to really immerse oneself in an experience…to a time when even funerals can be offered as a drive-through experience.

Although we didn’t do it often, I used to love going to the drive-in with my parents. We sometimes came prepared for the long evening by getting into our pyjamas in advance so we could settle in for the long haul. It was an exciting opportunity to stay up late and see TWO movies under the magical stars… if we could keep our eyes open long enough. Even sitting in our own car, we felt connected to the larger experience by peering curiously at the other cars or ambling around during intermission, absorbing the snippets of conversation and camaraderie wafting gently through those warm summer evenings.

Have you been to a movie theatre or concert lately? Have you noticed how many of the people who have paid an exorbitant price in order to be present are seemingly elsewhere, more entranced by their smartphone screen than the people they came with or what is happening right in front of them on the big screen?

I understand the temptation of small-screen versus big-screen thinking; it saves time, it’s convenient, it fits in my pocket, it’s all about me. This temptation surfaces in our tendency to use machines rather than interact with people, whether we are shopping or banking or learning, to be immersed in our own image on social media and less interested in anyone else’s story or the bigger stories happening all around us in real time. It shows in our impatience with each other in line, online and on the road. No time for conversation or courtesy.

There’s a risk in consistently taking a drive-through approach to life; it tends to limit our actions and interactions, falling mindlessly into familiar patterns without deeply considering what might be different about this particular moment in time; or making last-minute compromises from a limited menu, choosing the best of what is in front of us rather than asking if it’s what we are really looking for. Mostly, it prevents us from deeply engaging in what is happening around us as we race from the past to the future. We are no longer using our heads or our hearts to be fully present in the moment. Even standing in line at the fast food counter offers us more opportunities and possibilities: to observe other people, maybe start up a conversation or share a joke, to meet an old friend unexpectedly, to offer a hand to a single mom struggling with young kids and a heavily laden tray or the elderly man trying to balance his food on his walker.

When we isolate ourselves by minimizing human contact, convinced that time is our most important resource and convenience is the greatest gift we can give ourselves, we lose out on the epic possibilities of immersing in and expanding our own life stories.

Don’t believe me? Try something slightly more redolent of magic and delight than self-serving convenience this summer: instead of rationing out the minutes in your busy schedule to squeeze in a bunch of drive-by appearances, park yourself in one place for a few hours and share an experience or a story with someone you really care about…and don’t worry if a little popcorn gets spilled in the process. :)

A Mindset of Scarcity

Scarcity: Bound by Time

A little therapeutic sketching today to explore the concept that a mindset focused on scarcity of time, resources or love can leave us feeling bound so tightly that we feel unable to act.

Reminder to self: look through a lens of abundance to see the eternity present in each moment, leaving the soul free to dance, dream and breathe…and to give to self and others without measuring the cost.

My Silent Companion

I sit quietly on the dock with grief as my silent companion, my feet resting on the weathered boards as the sun glides toward the horizon.

Stormy winds and raging waves have passed through here in recent days... but at the moment, whatever moves around me and within me is calm and measured.

Ripples and eddies form as the water flows in and out, as hopes and worries pass through my thoughts like silent fish glimmering beneath the surface.

Dappled sunlight and shadow dance over my eyelids; a gentle breeze ruffles up wishes and memories and carries my prayers up into the clouds.

The world turns, the waves flow, the wind blows... my grief and I sit together in silent companionship at the end of another day, searching for grace and for peace.

Peace around me, peace within.
Peace for those I love and those who love me, too.
Peace for those who have no-one else to wish them peace.
Peace for those who trouble my dreams.
Peace.

In the Midst of Winter, We Dream of the Sun...

Sometimes life can get us down. When it does, we have at least two choices: to wallow in our discontent... or to get up and just get on with it, hoping to find a bit of joy where we can. Surprisingly, option two — although initially requiring more energy to kickstart — also offers a lot more kickback on our investment.

The last two weeks have been difficult ones for our family as we continue to struggle through a time of crisis; but in the midst of the anxiety and the sadness, we have tried to instil joy in the small moments where it can shine:  a sunbeam through the icy window, a smile of trust and mutual support, those brief bursts of inspiration when creativity takes hold and pushes all the other worries aside for a while.

Along that theme, part of my self care during this stressful time has been to revive a long-ignored interest in fabric design, and to create a few cheerful and colourful patterns inspired by tropical islands and sun-soaked shores. I have even created a new shop on Spoonflower (castle_of_miranda) to share those images, and have ordered some sample swatches for myself.

It's late and I'm tired; it's still winter outside, but I think I can find summer in my heart again.

Undiscovered Kingdoms

Sitting on the dock one day this summer, I was once again gazing down into the clear water and hoping for a rare glimpse of the elusive fish when I realized that no matter how often I watch or how deeply I research what might actually be happening under the surface these days—and despite the wealth of images and knowledge shared by underwater explorers like Jacques Cousteau in the past—I will never be an integral part of that watery world, and will never truly understand what it means to be a citizen of that particular kingdom.

The phrase "undiscovered kingdoms" opened up a vista of possibility in my mind.  I thought about the historic era of world exploration, when sailing ships set off from home towards distant shores, loaded with supplies and crewed by a group of people who had very little idea of what they might find along the way. They didn't have cameras or technology to record their findings, and relied on words and drawings to share their perceptions and interpretations of what they had discovered. 

What was the motivation of those explorers? Were they driven purely by the concept of discovery, of expanding knowledge and mutual understanding by building relationships with cultures and lifestyles previously unknown to them? Were the incentives more material in nature, banking on rewards from grateful patrons for expanding boundaries and resources channeled back to serve the known kingdom? 

History tells us once new lands were discovered, there was almost always a migration of settlers from the old world to the new, and that even if these new settlers were escaping difficult conditions at home and looking for a better life, the majority of missionaries, mercenaries and pioneers arriving on foreign shores were conquerors rather than explorers, whether they realized it or not. They seemed to focus on teaching the culture they already knew and building a similar form of the society they had left behind. Looking back, it appears that they didn't really to come to learn or even realize that other kingdoms, natural and human, were already in place and had another kind of wisdom to share. Anything the new arrivals didn't understand seemed less desirable and less advanced than their familiar world. 

Globalization means that more of our world is familiar to us than ever before, at least on the surface. News and images travel instantaneously to our television and computer screens. We seem to have mapped and digitally recorded the geography of almost the entire world: Google Earth and street view allow us to see practically every visual detail of the world around us. We have even sent out space probes, made that first step on the surface of another planet. We know a lot about what the world looks like in other places, and we recognize the images...but we still don't seem to be able to live beneath the surface: to respect each other's differences, to learn from each other's experience and to get along without stealing or appropriating each other's gifts.

That's the kind of explorer I would like to be, and the kind of kingdom I wish we could all create together.

Living in the Moment

Photographers probably recognize this truth better than anyone: if you miss the moment, it is gone forever. As I work at the lakeside today, I am reminded how the continuous shift of the sun and clouds, the wind and the waves (whether dramatic or incredibly subtle) visually transform the mood of the landscape from moment to moment. The sounds of passing boat traffic and spontaneous birdsong — and the splashing of the neighbour's children as they swim — all work together to weave a complex symphony, with a melody and rhythm that never repeats from bar to bar. And what about our internal landscapes? Dreams, thoughts, opportunities and inspirations ebb and flow with their own unique undercurrents; if we are not present to recognize, greet and welcome them, I believe they will blithely continue on their way and leave us none the wiser.

Ironically, it takes longer than a moment to reflect on a previous moment, and in the process, we may be missing other moments that would have been equally inspirational. There are also many moments we are called to be active participants rather than passive observers: to create, to intervene, to build relationships and to shake things up… to change the moment.

Life is a balancing act. I believe that our ability to be aware of this duality — to respect the limitless elements that shape each moment, but still believing in our creative vocation as the human element in the equation and adding our own energy to the shaping process — is what allows us to be our most creative and productive selves.

Wonderland: Why I Take Photos

After waking on Saturday morning to world covered by a woolly blanket of newly fallen snow, Rob and I decided to go on a small photo safari for the first time in a long time. As we walked and snapped, I found myself pondering why these little photo safaris bring me joy.

Many of the photos I have taken over my lifetime represent my effort to capture a memory of a moment in time shared with family and friends or a milestone event… but I have come to realize that the act of photography is much more than that for me: it is a very intentional way of moving through my everyday world with eyes of wonder, seeing and experiencing details in a completely different way.

I realize now that the photo itself is not as important to me as honouring the act of looking—truly looking—at the message the world is offering me today, in the moment, in the place where I find myself. I struggle to frame the images that tell me some kind of story, and learn even more respect for the talented photographers who evoke the mysteries of the universe in their photographs, and allow us to see a new world through their eyes.

Down Time

I am sitting here in the recliner with my feet up, thinking that this is the first guilt-free (partial) day off that I remember taking in a long time. Is it more guilt-free than usual because it comes after a few hard-earned high points in the last week? I often feel that I am stealing time when I take a break or do something fun for a change; but today I feel like a flower unfolding its petals at a natural pace. Today I feel that whatever I choose to do will have value, and that there are very few "must-do's". It's not to say that I haven't done anything - I made stew in the slow cooker this morning to take for dinner with my stepdaughter and grandsons this evening; I made a big batch of cookies to sustain a friend who is working hard on some awesome renovations for us, and to share with my stepson (and my other stepdaughter when she dropped by briefly.) I also responded to some emails, sent some invoices, held someone in prayer for a recent loss...and I'm even writing a blog post for the first time in months! But I am doing it all without that sense of pressure that seems to accompany most of my waking moments, that sense of constant list-making and checking in to see "Am I doing what I am supposed to be doing right now? What have I forgotten? What deadline or important moment will come crashing down upon me if I am not prepared?" 

A friend said to me a few weeks ago that she was really looking forward to a couple of hours of enforced inactivity when her eyes were dilated for tests; it struck me that we are all working too hard if that's the only time we feel able to sit quietly (please note that I intentionally implemented her idea and made the most of a similar situation for a day or two when I had cataract surgery a few weeks ago!)

Our bodies and minds need down time; we were designed to sleep at least 1/3 of our daily lives away. There's only so long we can churn at full speed until we burn out the engines. I am also (slowly) coming to realize that down time is not really down time unless I am wholehearted in letting it all go for a designated period of time, knowing that I can go back and pick it all up again when I need to. In fact, it's only by setting it all down once in a while that I will be able to carry it for the long haul. In future, I think I will try to let wisdom rather than exhaustion be my guide, because I would much rather sit down by choice than fall down by necessity. Up with down time!

Pathways to Learning

I just came out of a meeting related to education and started thinking about how many different educational models we can call to mind from personal experience or shared anecdotes, and their relative success rates.

There is the authoritative model, where the representative of a powerful system knows best and attempts to squeeze students through little compartments in the machine in order to crank out identical copies of the original. I am thinking of the colonial approach to government, business and education in many countries; and in particular, the residential school system in Canada, with the deep divisions and identity-crushing suffering this type of model can inflict on individuals and on society as a whole.

At the opposite end of the scale is the free-for-all, "here for a good time, not a long time" model, where the group animator is just a "buddy-old-pal" who has no authority and expects students to figure everything out for themselves; this system drives students for a long distance in a top-of-the-line party bus and then drops them off with a hangover and fuzzy memories at the edge of the jungle to fight their way through the chaos on their own, without a clear sense of direction or the necessary gear... and is then surprised how few of them succeed.

In my mind, the best model is one that offers a guide for a challenging hiking journey. In this model, students are travelling to a destination they have chosen for themselves, but have access to quiet expertise which can be called upon as needed. In this model, individuals receive advance preparation and training for the potential risks and obstacles, learn the sense of agility required to adjust the route as needed based on circumstance and ability, and benefit from constant companionship and shared stories along the way, which leave both student and guide stronger, more connected and fulfilled when the goal is reached.

For Those in Peril on the Sea

Maritime hymns hold a special fascination for me. 

For Those in Peril on the Sea is the first title that comes to mind... but there is another hymn I remember from my paternal grandfather's funeral service in Prince Edward Island many years ago, which continues to resonate with me even more forcefully (in fact, so much so that I hope it will be part of my own funeral service some day... in the far distant future, of course!)

It is Well With My Soul was written by Horatio Spafford in the 1870s after a series of personal tragedies, including financial disaster related to the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 and the deaths of his five children (one son succumbed to scarlet fever and four daughters drowned in a shipwreck.) The fact that he was able to pen lyrics that still evoke such hope and peace despite the storms that he faced is truly inspirational to me, and a reminder that my own storms are much smaller and more inconsequential.

“When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.”

— Horatio G. Spafford, 1873

Will Your Anchor Hold is another favourite, written in 1882 by Priscilla Jane Owens. The rollicking tune reinforces the words, which remind us not to give up hope, but instead to use whatever gifts we have been given to remain steadfast.

“Will your anchor hold in the storms of life,
When the clouds unfold their wings of strife?
When the strong tides lift and the cables strain,
Will your anchor drift, or firm remain?

We have an anchor that keeps the soul
Steadfast and sure while the billows roll,
Fastened to the Rock which cannot move,
Grounded firm and deep in the Saviour’s love.”

The perils of the sea are not only for sailors. My father once told me a story about duck-hunting along the shores of Prince Edward Island many years ago with a few of my uncles and cousins. I think the expedition began well, with everyone in high spirits; but as time wore on, the crashing tide moved in and began to cut them off from the path they had originally travelled. As he struggled through the crashing waves along a slippery cliffside, holding his shotgun above his head, he began to wonder if he would even be able to make it home again; in the end, he decided that the results of the expedition just weren't worth the risks...and never went duck-hunting again.

The Coffin family connection with the perils of the sea goes even further back in time, to my Coffin ancestors who made the arduous journey by sea to the New World in the 1600s and were amongst the first immigrants to settle on Nantucket Island. Many of our ancestors became whalers; and some were tragically entangled in the saga of the whaling ship Essex in 1820, documented in the recent movie In the Heart of the Sea (based on the book of the same title by Nathaniel Philbrick, Nantucket historian.) For those who don't know, this is the harrowing narrative—filled with excitement, danger and loss—that inspired Herman Melville to pen his famous whaling tale, Moby Dick.

As I reflect on the words of those old-time maritime hymns, I am reminded that when we find ourselves a long way out from shore, struggling with the dark storms and forces of nature beyond our control, it is important to remember that we carry our safe harbours with us at all times: all the blessings in our lives that give us the strength and the hope to hold fast, to fight through the storm and come back home safe again. 

Safe Harbour

A few weeks ago, I was sitting on this very dock, contemplating how lucky I am that my world is so safe and so comfortable compared to so many people in the world...but with each wave that splashed in to shore, the quote below kept floating into my consciousness and making me restless:

“A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.”

— J. A. Shedd

I wondered to myself, "Does this mean that we should leave behind everything in our lives that is safe and comfortable and only choose the risky and uncomfortable options instead?" 

I don't think so; at least, not completely.

A willingness to embrace reasonable risk and occasional discomfort is what allows us to grow and change and understand something new about the world. Adventurous journeys into the unknown help us find our sea legs and develop different kinds of muscles to keep our minds and bodies in shipshape condition.

But safe harbour is where we gather between voyages to share the treasures we've found, to compare notes on the uncharted territory we've discovered and raise a glass to celebrate our safe return; a place where we can rest, repair and re-provision before our next big adventure on the high seas. 

Thank heaven for safe harbours.

Fever Dreams and Labours of Love

Have you ever woken from a dream so vivid that you believed it was true long after you woke up?

Sometimes I think that creative work is like a self-induced fever dream: images and emotions so real in our mind's eye that we can almost touch them... but those visions quickly fade and disappear forever into the shadowlands if we don't do something to make them real. Creative work is about finding ways to keep fuelling the fire and building a solid bridge between the world of imagination and the tangible reality of everyday life.

The process of creativity could also be imagined in relation to one of the most basic human instincts for survival: procreation and the arrival of a new generation of ideas. Initial conception combines micro-elements of inspiration and of practical realities, the resulting embryo is nurtured and guarded well during development over an appropriate length of time... and only delivered after the hard work and challenges inherent in any labour of love have been successfully completed.

What are you doing to bring your dreams into the open and make them real today?

Silver and Gold

Part of the ongoing challenge for designers and makers over the course of our careers is to keep our interests and passions fresh and alive. One way to do that is to expand our design skills into new areas, using new materials and processes. I have been enjoying a wealth of learning opportunities over the past year or two, thanks to the Craftsy learning platform. 

Over the holidays, I made a few pairs of earrings, including these two identical pairs: one in gold and one in silver. Looking forward to sharing more photos soon!

NOTE: An extended version of this post can be found on LinkedIn.

When the Shine Wears Off

While polishing my grandmother's silver tea set today, I was reminded how easy it is to love something when it is shiny and new. Occasionally, it is interesting or useful enough that we continue to interact with it until it breaks or wears out...but more often than not, our attention wanes. The novelty wears off more quickly than the shine, and we soon set the object aside to tarnish or collect dust while we chase the next shiny new object.

Restoring the shine to something we've set aside in the past can be a discouraging prospect. Whether it's a relationship, a project or an actual object, it takes work to remove the film that has built up over the course of our neglect. There are layers that need to be sloughed off and rinsed away with care. And to be perfectly honest, we can't always bring the thing back to its original condition.

But sometimes there is a new patina that adds depth and value to what we hold; and a sense of renewed connection that brings greater satisfaction than the shiny new original ever did.

DIY Xmas

This year we decided to mostly stick to homemade gifts, prepared with love: knitting, baking, quilting and jewellery. Along that theme, these marshmallow reindeer kits were a last-minute inspiration; lots of fun, they could be used for table toppers or small gifts.

From our family to yours, happy holidays and all the best for 2016!

A Creative Perspective on Travelling Light

One of the dangers we face as creative professionals is a tendency to assume that we already know how to solve a particular problem because we've worked with similar clients, projects or products before. It's an easy trap to fall into, particularly in an environment where efficiency and streamlined production are the darlings of every business blog. 

One of the mostly invisible components of creative work—and more challenging than you might imagine—is to jettison the past and wrestle with our own preconceived notions (and sometimes those of our clients) in order to create an open and fertile environment for the new possibilities that will best fulfill the mandate we have been given. Creative problem-solving requires a new and thorough consideration from all angles, inside and out, starting from ground zero. 

Travelling light includes getting rid of our emotional baggage. Good solutions are designed to elicit both intellectual and emotional responses from their end-users in order to achieve the goals set forth by our clients. This doesn't meant that we ourselves should get too emotionally attached to our concepts... in fact, although our passion for creativity may fuel our daily calling, emotional attachment to our own ideas can be an obstacle to truly creative solutions, while intellectual clarity about the true purpose of our work allows us to serve our clients best... and to explain how and why a concept will work in all the ways that matter to our clients.

Of course, as we work through each of the possible angles to solving the current issue at hand, we don't throw away everything we know. Our past experience provides valuable insight and guidance, but an open-minded examination of each decision will keep us from falling into the trap of taking particular choices for granted or letting the wagon wheels roll us down the ruts most travelled.

After all, didn't you become a creative professional in order to be an explorer and adventurer, discovering a new world every day?

Lucky by Choice

Have you ever had a moment where everything in the universe seems to align in your favour? It may be the shortest or rarest of moments, but I believe it does happen when we let it, even in the midst of very difficult and trying circumstances beyond our control.

This photo was taken early one morning at our annual Rover reunion camping weekend many years ago. The dew and the sunrise were both fleeting, but following the spontaneous instinct to get up for an early morning walk meant being in the right place at the right time and receiving this unexpected visual gift, as well as an inner sense that all was right with the world. 

We can paralyze ourselves with the conviction that we are unlucky—that we are not receiving the rewards we deserve—while others are blessed with better luck and seem to get everything that they want out of life. While it's true that life often doesn't go the way we expect, our sense of being unlucky can be a self-fulfilling prophecy. If we are entirely focused on what we deserve and how we are working tirelessly to get it, we are likely to miss the surprises and treasures that lie on the unexplored side roads of our lives.

Creativity grows from the juxtaposition of unexpected elements; if we control and plan and decide every aspect of our lives based on what we already know and expect, creativity has no place to blossom. Sometimes the greatest blessings spring unexpectedly from the most challenging ground, and creativity thrives with some adversity, some "bad luck" that might make us step back, change direction and look for the good on another path.

Have you ever had a moment where everything in the universe seems to align in your favour? Just open your eyes and look around; you might be standing in front of one right now.

Spin Doctor

Teasing out a web of intrigue
Radiating influence with confidence
Dropping in dramatically from unseen and unexpected places
Connecting dots with sticky strings

No such thing as a straight line
The earth is not flat
We are not the centre of your universe

Hovering at the meeting place
Seemingly still
Still spinning on the inside

Wrapping mesmerized prey in a sticky cocoon
And devouring the reward

The Shortest Distance Between Two Points

Nowadays, we often travel to our destinations by the shortest possible route, taking wide clean featureless highways as dictated by our electronic guidance device. We take the easy road that someone else has chosen for us instead of the interesting road we might discover for ourselves. We no longer have our own adventures.

What we lose when we take the path that someone else has mapped out is those odd little nooks and crannies, the quirky little side roads we only discover by accident. And speaking of maps, how often do we even look at a big picture view, which gives us an overall sense of where we are going and offers us choices instead of giving us moment-by-moment commands?

More and more, our social media channels and smart technology also guide us and prompt us along the path most travelled, the topics most likely to interest us based on what we have always done before. The options offered to someone else with different tastes and experiences are not even on our radar.

The world is an increasingly complex and overwhelming place. We are more aware than ever of the scale of information that we just don't know, and it seems to neutralize our ability to make decisions based solely on our own knowledge and experience. We don't trust ourselves, and despite our seemingly skeptical and cynical societal values, we seem to be eager and willing to put our trust in something we perceive to be smarter than us. It has even been suggested that the recent popularity of some extreme religious or political groups is that they tell their followers exactly what to think, what to do, how to behave; there is no need to make decisions, just to follow the rules without question.

This unquestioning willingness to let someone else tell us what's good, what's cool, what will be best for us, also spills over into the tangential aspects of our journeys, when we fall into the pattern of choosing the safe and familiar, the big box stores and brand name restaurants, instead of the unique little corner pub or family boutique. We know what we will get and there are no surprises. 

How sad.

There is a well-known poem by Linda Ellis about the shortest distance between two symbols on a tombstone, represented by the dash between the dates of birth and death. I plan to make my dash a long and swirly one, filled with side trips and adventures, unique stories and authentic experiences that define me as a one-of-a-kind piece in the big puzzle.

Out of Touch

Our world is changing at an exponential rate. Personal interactions are increasingly filtered by technology and more and more of the products we use on a daily basis are created without ever being touched by human hands.

The industrial revolution changed our work patterns drastically. Most of our jobs today are far removed from the cottage industries and farms of the past, from a sense of self-sufficiency and knowing that the work of our hands is real and life-giving. We are smaller cogs in a bigger machine. We don't seems to build the same strong interdependent relationships with our communities and our sense of civic responsibility seems to have diminished accordingly. 

The information age is now upon us, and a new revolution is brewing. It seems we no longer need to actually learn anything or retain information, because we can always "Google" it; and besides, there is just too much information out there for our tiny human brains to handle. Clutter has become virtual as well as tangible. The information we do retain seems to have moved away from broad spectrum knowledge and critical thinking towards extremely specialized expertise that may or may not connect to anything else; towards a polarized focus on trivia and the minute details of our own psyches and away from larger world views and physical involvement in social justice issues—other than social media clicks and shares, which mostly cost us nothing and require no sacrifice of our time or resources.

But a counter-culture movement towards the personal, the human, the handmade and heartfelt is also growing. William Morris, one of my favourite designers of the Arts and Crafts movement, is quoted as saying "Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful." A second Arts and Crafts movement seems to be upon us, with the booming growth of sites like Etsy and small homegrown family businesses like one of my favourites, Tanis Fiber Arts. A burgeoning interest in organic and locally grown food has seeded the expansion of farm stands and food markets in recent years; and—although no one seems to have time to volunteer anymore—identifying ourselves with social causes and charitable foundations seems to have become an important element of our corporate and personal identities on sites like LinkedIn and social media campaigns like last year's wildly successful ALS Ice Bucket Challenge.

So, are we out of touch? Or are we more in touch than ever, but in a new way? I guess only time will tell.