I moved to Los Angeles six years ago with a silenced voice and a broken spirit. I was married at the time, to the drummer in my band, and we'd been on the road touring full time for about six months. There was no planned end for the tour, and until a few weeks earlier, no plan to settle in California. There had been no plan to settle at all, actually. We just booked gigs and drove around the country with our bass player, sleeping in relative's spare rooms, stranger's lumpy couches, and on rock club floors. Every day we drove into a different town, every night we drank beer, and every morning we drove off.
It's strange to talk about a music tour and realize that my prominent memories have nothing to do with music. My then-husband and I had spent the money we got from our wedding gifts to buy a van that we rigged to run on recycled vegetable oil. Just before our first anniversary we found a new bass player (our original beloved one had no interest in hitting the road) and the three of us loaded the van with all our most prized possessions - drums, guitars, amplifiers, microphones. We drove out of Boston in the Spring of '06 with an extended Chevy cargo van full of songs and dreams. I grew up going to folk festivals. All my heroes were singers and road warriors. I'd dreamed of touring for as long as I'd been writing songs. Since my first east coast road trip from college back home, I'd wanted to see the country. My drumming husband and I met at Berklee College of Music where we both did graduate work, and then gave up our jobs and apartments to live out our rock star dreams. Right from the start I felt ungrounded. Despite the good attendance of our shows at the beginning of the tour, as we made our way down the eastern seaboard I had a sinking feeling. Not sinking, actually. More like drowning. Locked in the van for hours on end, I lost all sense of schedule. Always surrounded by people, I misplaced all sense of creativity. I filled my days with numbers and papers instead of poetry and melody. I sent business emails and phone calls to bookers and promoters, and counted the cash at the end of the night. The unfamiliarity of each new town made me too anxious to venture far from the van. The only exercise I got was the heavy-lifting of sound equipment at the beginning and end of each night. The only time I sang was for the hour or two of the gig. The rest of my days were silent. By the time we got to Los Angeles, it was just the two of us. I'd started having emotional breakdowns on stage, crying at lyrics I'd sung for years, alternately self-medicating with coca-cola and gin-and-tonics. One night in New Hope, PA the tourist season had ended and the club was near-empty. We played the opening bars to our first song and my throat choked. I cried so hard I couldn't sing. We dropped the bass player in Virginia with his folks, and pointed the van west. I didn't care where we went - I'd go anywhere my husband chose, as long as I never had to sing again. He picked L.A, and to this day I believe this was one of the greatest gifts he ever gave me. Almost a year into our lives as Californians, a woman I worked with but barely knew gave me a flyer for a 12-week workshop based on the book The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. I didn't know anything about the book or the workshop, but I instinctively knew that this was what I needed for some deep healing of my creative spirit. I hadn't sung in over a year, hadn't played guitar, hadn't written a song. I was working long hours in the celebrity endorsements department at a top talent agency, lost and trying desperately to find a new dream, a new career. The Artist's Way workshop that winter was a spirit-saver. I drank up the weekly meetings like I'd been parched. I was parched - desperately thirsty to be around artists of any sort, deeply needing to tap back into my own creative depths. Those twelve weeks helped me begin stitching my creative spirit back together. After the twelve weeks were over, I took some more workshops with facilitator Kelly Morgan, the inspiring woman who I began to consider my mentor. Soon, I became Kelly's assistant in the workshops, meeting weekly at her home with a small group of other assistants, and helping to hold the space for new Artist Way students' healing. Ultimately the workshop helped me to unveil other desires. I found my longing to regain body-wellness during those workshops and in my weekly one-hour "artist dates" that the book prescribed. I remembered my love of yoga, and found Rising Lotus Yoga, a beautiful studio near where I worked. That summer I delved deeply into my yoga practice in a personal 40-day challenge in which I practiced every day (resting every 7th day). It was the discipline and surrender that I needed, inspired by Boston yoga teacher Baron Baptiste and the transformational journeys of biblical teachers. Later that year I enrolled in the Rising Lotus Yoga teacher training program, and spent the next nine months studying yoga and unraveling my marriage. Whatever is no longer serving us, the yoga practice teaches us, begins to fall away. I felt renewed, like a phoenix rising from the ash, like a lotus growing out of the muck. In the years since those Artist Way workshops with Kelly and my yoga teacher training at Rising Lotus, I re-found my voice. I remembered my love of writing. I discovered that I love teaching. I learned to nourish myself with good food made well. I would be remiss to not mention the love that has come into my life through my dear man Darby and his beautiful daughters. Songwriter Patty Griffin has a line in her song Love Throws A Line: "We run out of luck / We run out of days / We run out of gas a hundred miles away from a station.... Just before we can't go any further / Love throws a line to you and me". The Artist's Way, Kelly, Rising Lotus, yoga, California.... they all threw me a line, a life saver when I was drowning in the muck of dreams that were no longer sustaining me. Last year, when I began The List of 100 Things, I included two lines about a vision I had: #60 - revise creative yogi proposal#61 - send creative yogi proposal to Rising Lotus Inspired by all these things and wanting to share the healing, I've created a one-day workshop for the yoga community of creative spirits. There are so many students I have met at yoga studios and in classes who chat with me later about their screenplays, their books, their music, dance, films, paintings. Finally, because of last year's List of 100 Things, I created this workshop. I sent the proposal to Rising Lotus sometime in 2012 and they loved it. We booked a date right at the beginning of 2013 because since it seemed the perfect time to fan the flames of the new year's creations.... and now the workshop is coming up. That I created this workshop (step one!) and moved past my fear of rejection (step two!) were major accomplishments from my List last year. On January 13 I'll check off item #4 on my List for 2013: #4 - Teacher Creative Flow workshop Here's a link to the event, if you are in Los Angeles and interested in attending. There's early bird pricing - only $35 for the 3-hour workshop. We'll do a mixed level yoga practice (appropriate for all levels) to start and then move into writing and interactive exercises. I already know some of the folks who have signed up for this, and I'm looking forward to us all inspiring each other as we uncover, discover, and tap more deeply into our creative spirits. Here's the blurb from the poster about the workshop: In this 3-hour workshop we will embark on a hero’s journey – because we are all the heroes of our own story – and unleash the creative flow through movement of the body and the pen. We will tap creative inspiration and loosen the grip of hesitancy and fears by releasing the blocks of our past stories. This workshop will begin with a 1-hour yoga practice. We’ll focus on breath, movement, and sweat to quiet the surface thoughts and find our inner strength, balance and joy. Following the asana, we will move into writing practice, playful sensory explorations, and small- and large-group interactive exercises to spark, inspire, and unlock the creative flow. Sunday January 13, 2013 12:30—3:30pm $35 adv / $40 day of This workshop is open to all levels of yoga practice. All types of creative spirits are welcome — actors, writers, musicians, dancers, filmmakers, painters, cooks, parents, teachers… Bring your journal, a pen, and your curiosity. Rising Lotus Yoga 13557 Ventura Blvd. Sherman Oaks 818-990-0282 •risinglotusyoga.comm xoxo, A
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I didn't want to post the 2012 List while I was still working on it. I felt vulnerable, and wasn't sure how it would all go. As it turns out, I revised it several times in the early months. Later I want to explore what was going on with the revising, but not now. For now, I think it's just the right time to unveil the list in its final form. It's still fresh on my mind, and the 2013 list is just a little zygote. So, without further delay.... (purple items are complete)
The List of 100 Things To Do in 2012
I have two routes for my weekday lunch hour runs. The first is mine. It began as a walk through the neighborhood when I started at this company back in '08. I'd walk down to the end of the road during my lunch hour, and then turn back. For a while that's all there was, back and forth down this road, but eventually my curiosity (or boredom) got the better of me and I turned a corner... literally and figuratively. Over time the walk took me through and around the neighborhood, mostly on small residential streets, and I got to know the little quirks of the place. Once I started running - last October a bit, and then more consistently last January - my route got longer. Now it loop-d-loops around to a full five miles.
The other route is my running partner's. She works at a hospital 1.25 miles from my office. Our routes cross over each other, and a few times last Spring she and I passed each other while we were both out. One day, instead of just waving as I went by, I turned around and started to run with her. She was training for a marathon and had her daily 5 mile route mapped out - twice around on the main city blocks, cutting through right past my office. She's slower than me, but I loved her dedicated spirit, and think it's funny that she always runs in hospital scrubs - my coworkers have all asked about "the nurse" I run with. I started running with her just as my own dedication needed a kick in the pants. The first day we ran together she told me that I could definitely run a half marathon. She inspired me, and I signed up for one a few weeks later. We started running together every Monday through Friday. My running partner only works at the hospital three times a week now, and currently she's still out of town on holiday, but I've been running her route anyway. Her route feels safer, and not because of outside forces. My route, the scenic one that organically developed over time and loop-d-loops around the neighborhood, gives me too many options for bailing. If I turn right instead of left, it's a three mile run instead of the five I intended. My route demands determination that I just don't have right now. I'm a little softer, a little less strong, both in body and spirit, than I was a few months ago. This is the first time since my November foot injury that I am working back up to training mileage, and my route has too many outs. So, I'm running hers. Her route is not as pretty, and it doesn't wind around the neighborhood streets, but it keeps me on track. It's exactly 5 miles, and I only pass by my office once midway as I loop around again. I pass the same things twice. Once I'm on mile 3, there's no option but to keep going to the end. I like it this way, this week. It's these kinds of little mind games that help sometimes, and I know there's a good payoff later on if I bust through this first week or so of training. Today I focused on numbers. On New Years Day I sketched out my schedule for the next 6 weeks of training. While I ran today, I considered the next bit. After February's, the next half marathon on my calendar is in April, but if I plan it well, there's a certain run that I've been wanting to do for months - my house to the beach. It's 18 miles, so I have to plan for it - 18 miles doesn't happen on a whim. I love the idea of running to the Pacific Ocean. It feels like a spirit journey. From my home in the "valley" it's not an easy jaunt - the Hollywood Hills fall right between us and the beach. Back in June this idea was impossible, but once I thought of it I couldn't get it off my mind. I trained the whole second half of the year for it, and did my first half marathon in October as a marker for my training. I originally figured I could do it the last week of December, but then my November injury interrupted the plan. During today's run I began considering the possibility of doing the beach run in March. Numbers, miles, days. The trick is staying injury-free. Of course, first I have to get through this first week of training. SECOND RUN OF 2013: Setting: January 3, 2013. Los Angeles, CA. Mid-afternoon. Temperature in the mid-60's, windy. Run: 5.2 miles 45:18 average pace: 8:43 per mile After the celebrations of December and then the ironic timelessness of New Years, I anticipated that today's run would be tough. It's beautifully sunny, not cold at all, but it indeed felt like Sunday's 8-miler around Griffith Park had been a year ago. Well, it was last year - but it was only three days ago. Today's was the first run of 2013 and I feel as out of shape as my sedentary cat at home. I debated throughout the first three miles if I should bother with the last two, but the memory of Sunday's 8-miler pulled me through. Today I needed the inspiration of my own accomplishments. Around mile three, I got my mind on this blog. That's the way it often works for me - thoughts of writing always pull me through. Finally, my head got out of the challenge of the run and into the excitement of starting this blog.
I stumbled into this running life a year ago, and suddenly running and writing became, to me, very linked. On my runs I usually focus on whatever writing project I've been working on that day. Right now I've got several in mind for this year - two books that I'm too shy to talk about just yet, and several personal essays that I'm shaping now for hopeful publication. We shall see. I have two other blogs on other topics - Love Them Apples and The List of 100 Things. Meanwhile, here I am, introducing my newest blog, The Written Run. The Written Run will be an exploration, and an archive. I'm curious to see what comes up in these posts as I recall my thoughts and experiences during my runs and as I mark my running progress through the year. Inspired by my List of 100 Things, running became a regular part of my life last January. Since then, it's about a 4-6 days a week venture, and since June or July, between 25-37 miles a week. I ran my first half marathon (Los Angeles Rock 'n Roll Half) in October in 1:58:01, bettering my goal of 2 hours by 2 minutes (minus the one second to steal a kiss from my man around mile 5). A week later, I was sidelined by an injury that kept me fairly sedentary in November. December was, well, December - not the easiest time of year to get back on a derailed track. It's January now, and I've mapped out my training for the next six weeks. My first major running point this year is on February 17 - the Pasadena Rock n' Roll Half Marathon. First, by way of introduction, some grounding details: I'm a Southerner by birth, Yankee by socialization, a Californian by choice. I was a child of the '70s to parents who were probably not far enough out of their own childhood to properly parent, but my brother and I are somehow working through our issues. He lives in NYC and I live in LA so we don't see each other nearly enough. Our parents each set up separate homes in their own corners of the country. You could say that we've all staked out our own territory. I like to think that we each are creating the lives we most want. I am a writer, a musician, a vegan chef, and a yoga teacher. I juggle my creative passions and interests in well-being around my day job in the entertainment industry. It usually works pretty well. I run during my weekday lunch hours, spin or take a yoga class at night, run longer distances on Sunday and celebrate life with my man and my stepdaughters on the weekends. The girls are in elementary and middle school and are sweet, snarky, and super fun. My man is my dearest love. I count my blessings every day. FIRST RUN OF 2013: Setting: January 2, 2013. Los Angeles, CA. Midday. Temperature in the mid-60's. Run: 5.1 miles 44:37 average pace: 8:44 per mile I'm up to 24 in the creation of my new list for 2013, and I've already got one done.
Like last year, I didn't know I would create a list for this year until the new year was upon me. And, likewise, until New Years Day I didn't realize how compelled I was to move this blog into a better space. I spent a good portion of yesterday (between a New Years Day waffle breakfast and a New Years Day margarita dinner) figuring out a better platform for these musings. The List and I have big plans. Tumblr, you're awfully good looking, and it's been fun, but my list and I are moving.... come visit us at our new location: The List Of 100 Things is now at www.thelistof100things.blogspot.com (9/27/13 update: Now all List of 100 Things are tagged here at www.ariellesilver.com as List #5: transfer 100 Things blog to blogger After all, there's no time like the present. A. |
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