Good Intentions

© Ryan Smith Photography

Do you ever feel like you're trapped in your day the moment you wake up? Like you can't quite grasp what it is you really want to do or accomplish, so you go through the motions of obligations or things you feel you should do? You spend most of the day with a vague sense that you're not really doing what you were meant to do, just what you're supposed to do.

Today was, for once, not one of those days. It easily could have been. I awoke feeling aimless and adrift. I got up and walked mindlessly down to the kitchen to let my dog out and observe the fresh blanket of snow that had been deposited overnight. Then I stared blankly out the kitchen window as I drank a glass of water, wondering if I would spend the entire day as I did the day before, unfocused and slightly dissatisfied, but not knowing why. And then it happened - a moment that shifted the trajectory of the entire day.

It was so simple. From my window, I spotted a neighbor's dog far off in the field next to our house. And he was absolutely delighting in the snow. He was alone and unattended, but completely immersed in running in circles and hopping around in the white fluff. His ears and posture were perked and eager, his tail wagged as he strutted about.

Suddenly, my day had intention again. Watching the dog for just a few moments reminded me of the essence of being. It was one of those rare glimpses, that seem to come so few and far between, of something akin to the meaning of life. How do we forget so easily? I set my glass down on the counter and ran upstairs to change. I knew I had to get outside and play, too.

So, I took the dog's lead and traipsed outside through the snowy woods with my dog and husband. We often venture out for morning walks or jogs, but because I had been given a lesson in intention, this morning felt different. I knew I needed to have this much intention each morning before I start slogging through the day.

Later, at my desk, I chanced upon an article by Christine Kane about the importance of having a morning ritual. I usually have somewhat of a routine in the morning and already do many of the things she suggests (yes, I do use a Neti Pot habitually), but have yet to make these things part of a ritual. So I took her advice and wrote out my morning ritual. Now I can begin each day with intention and focus, and not have to rely on the neighbor's dog to remind me!

I give thanks to that little dog for giving me these insights today. I have been so much more focused and happy ever since.

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Speaking of intentions, you can see that I haven't contributed to this blog since October. I've had "intentions" to, but have been thinking too much about my band of late. And I think that's a great way to spend my time. So more and more you will see posts specifically about The Hello Strangers, music, and creativity. These will eventually be linked and posted on our band site: www.thehellostrangers.com.

While you're at it, check out my friend Jamie's recent blog post about us!

Longing for Winter

I love winter.

I am befuddled by the tendency to wish for spring. What would spring be without these long, cold, dark, wistful months? It is easy to overlook the beauty of this season:

Bare bony trees running the edges of the rolling hills and dales.

Cold creeks under stone bridges, their black banks contrasted with patches of white snow.

Even the frigid winds are beautiful, as are the warm, cozy houses when you stomp in out of the cold. It is a time for introspection and creativity. It is full of mystery and death, but its stark beauty warms my heart.

All photos © Chace + Smith Photography

I wrote a song about it today, called Caribou. It is a song about the season, but also about the fear of someday possibly losing winter, either from global warming or my own passing. It is about a longing for winter and normalcy.

Oh, winter, have you left me?

Oh, winter, have you left me?

In the ash black dirt beside this creek

Next to the body of this Caribou

I will lay this body down to sleep

Oh, winter, will you promise me?

Oh, winter, will you promise me?

Will you visit me in my next life?

Will you offer me some good advice?

I can see it in your pale skies

Oh, cold wind

Will I never see your darkest days again?

Will I never hear you silent nights again?

In your gloom I watch my life unfold

I see my courage in your quiet streams

And all the beauty in your deepest snows

(Come again snow, come again snow)

© Larissa Chace Smith, 2/19/09

Someday, maybe I'll share this song with you. Or should I say, The Hello Strangers will.....

Gastronomy and the Divine Creative Impulse

What drives us to create? What is the explanation for something formulating in one's mind, like a melody or a verse, and what drives one to want to manifest it in some tangible form? Artists whom I have interviewed seem to agree that creating is something you feel you must do, and if you don't, then you are denying your mind and body a basic nourishment, like food. Though my need to create ebbs and flows like many of my other impulses, I am always struck by the almost cathartic nature of this drive.

How can we explain creative impulse? Why do I want to bake a pie, just out of the blue? Perhaps I wish to see the magical transformation of tough stalks of rhubarb melding with strawberries and sugar, or the crust rolling out just right, and the lattice top cutter rolling merrily through the dough. Perhaps I wish to experience the simple satisfaction of admiring a work in completion as it comes out of the oven, smelling like all the comforts in the world. Of course, unlike writing a song, one of the many perks of baking is that you get to put your creation in your mouth and savor it.

Unlike baking, songwriting allows for a longer-lasting savor. Sure, I don't get to put my song in my mouth and chew on it. But I get to sing it, which is another oral (and aural) experience altogether, and I can do so as many times as I want, indefinitely. Singing is one of my favorite things to do. There's great mystery in being able to open one's mouth and release air and vibrations to form notes wrapped in words. No other instrument can accomplish this. Moreover, unlike many other instruments, the voice is not man-made. We were created with this instrument already built into our bodily functions. How divine!

Recently, my sister and I brought in new members to our band, The Hello Strangers. I have been compelled ever since by the need to create once again. To be honest, when I am not focusing on running our photography business, it consumes my thoughts. Melodies greet me upon awaking, prompting me to grab my guitar and bring the song to life, so to speak. It seems effortless; in just a few minutes the song is alive and ready to share with others. Visions and ideas about the future of our band inspire me during many of my waking hours. All of a sudden, the thought of touring sounds marvelous, whereas before it seemed intimidating and somehow out-of-reach.

My sister and I, having talked about playing with a full band for years, are amazed to watch things falling into place around us, as if they were meant to happen right here and now. The energy of our new band mates is contagious, and the support of our small but growing fan base is humbling. I know that my creativity is spurred by this new context in which our music exists. I am grateful for it everyday, because my life has become enriched with the textures, melodies, and visions of creativity - that divine, mysterious force that we cannot rationally explain or deny.

Our first gig as a band is tonight, and I cannot contain my excitement about sharing this energy with others.

© Ryan Smith

I Want To Matter (The Anthropology of Living)

In the woods, just off the C&O Canal,

a derelict house stands like an old tree about to fall.

My friends enter and climb the steep and dark staircase;

I stay outside (too many fears in there).

Signs of an old life are found in a strip of wallpaper.

Pink roses on yellow with a white lattice,

once brilliant on a sturdy wall, sun shining on it

through the window pane - a lovely room for someone.

The wallpaper is brought down the stairs to me

and I look at it in the stark winter forest light.

For these brief moments, the mystery

of the inhabitants' lives mean something to us.

We form their ghosts in our minds, and I lay the wallpaper

back in the house with a nod of respect.

What remnants will remain of me?

Who will I matter to when my wallpaper peels off the walls?

I Want To Matter

In 200 years when none of this matters, I want it to matter

My young life in full swing, no kids and a rock band

I can hear a Divine voice in my creativity; I know it is good.

Am I wrong for not wanting these days to ever end?

I want everything I experience to count for something.

Like the ache in my heart when I watch

the birds at the kitchen window feeder.

Little robot heads looking side to side,

their daily business an important matter.

Or crying over finding my dog

after her second time ever running away, spooked by a firework

The comfort of my life broken for those twenty minutes of hunting for her,

such unadulterated relief in my tears when she returns,

which she licks excitedly from my face.

Like listening to an old friend from Austin

sing on a CD in West Virginia, the miles and time between us

spilling out onto the table in front of the stereo.

Everything I do is important, even the simplest of things.

This year, I will pay close attention to the messages and lessons in every experience, good or bad, big or small.

What are you thinking about differently in the New Year?

Today, I Find Inspiration in Everything

Today, the sun rises triumphantly over the fields next to my house. We have had few sunny days this winter, so the sight is breathtaking.

Today, I enjoy watching my dog chase a ball once or twice, then prance off to sniff more interesting things (she is not much of a ball dog).

Today, I notice the cool, soothing feeling of the milk as I eat my cereal.

Today, I silence the alarm bell on my email and respond to emails when I am ready, not every time I receive a message. I am not a slave to technology.

Today, I let the warm water from the shower linger on the back of my neck for just a few extra seconds.

Today, I dwell on happy thoughts and moments. I am present, relaxed, and alert, acknowledging the blessed life that I have.

Today, I give someone I love a hug and tell them how much they mean to me.

Today, I enjoy the sound of the scissors as I get my hair trimmed. The new, healthy strands make me feel refreshed and confident.

Today, I watch the birds at the feeder outside my kitchen window, grateful for their little noises and bodies. The world would be a very dull place without them.

Today, I Find Inspiration in Everything I can.

How do you find inspiration in your daily life?