February. That word feels like flying; not flying in the
way, say, May, does- no. Flying in an airplane, looking down on farmland (life
in the Midwest, or as Marguerite/ Margo Rose
Not- Spiegleman (nerd points if you get the reference) calls it, The
Fly-Over-Land). I feel like I should say that it melts in my mouth (no months
do, save No-vem-ber and March) or something else cliché. I guess flying over
the squares of crops is Manic Pixie Dreamgirl-ish too.
I call it the Month of Optimism (now we’re getting MPDG). My mom said the other day that she hates
February. Any other month, I’d agree with her. February is decidedly not my
thing. But I’m the sort of person who, despite my other lack of optimistic,
pleasant, agreeable features, always loves the season we’re in. February. Every
year we pen a deal to appreciate each other for those 28 (or 29) days. In my
mind she’s always been female, sort of like Pocahontas with the birds lifting
up her hair (and paint with all the colours of the wiiiiiiinnnnnnndddddd!) in
appearance.
For the Dreamers, the
Writers, the Journalers and the Thinkers
The most amazing thing that you can learn from listening to
the world is that silence sounds different. The silence outside is of a dark
colour, gray, spelled g-r-a-y. It’s silken and covers you- somewhat like the
sky does on a summer night, when it’s warm and you’re stargazing, and it feels
like the sky has lowered itself to the level that it’s wrapped around you.
(Side note: “stargazing” is a beautiful word. It looks exactly like what it
means, sort of like bounce or yank, but more emotionally.)
Then there’s fake silence, which can be inside or out. White
noise, I suppose. The sound of rain and birdsong or chatter in a coffee shop.
In my mind, it looks like the colour of a soft yellow-grey (spelled g-r-e-y)
wall during golden hour. Kind of like that colour in Fairest. Indescribable;
you have to be…a very noticent (is that a word? Well, I just made it a word. Uh
huh. ) person to be able to picture it.
Then comes indoor morning sound; when you wake up before
anyone else and you either a) sip your tea and watch the sunrise or b) sit
there and read or c) just lie in bed thinking, you can hear that silence that
sounds as though there is some movement to it… that sort of colourless sound-
not white, though- empty, seeming as though it’s waiting for you. That’s
particularly the silence that I find it best to write in, save the last one.
Silence with motion. Then the first is the kind I prefer to write these posts
in; outside. In springs (coming soon to a planet-no, hemisphere- near you;
unless of course you live in NZ, in which case, autumn is coming soon to a
hemisphere near you) and summers, when
I get my issue of Cicada, I’ll pack my backpack with food, water, my camera,
and the magazine, and find a place to read it, preferably somewhere I either
haven’t been before, or haven’t been this season. Summer outdoor silence is the
calmest. Winter outdoor silence is, however, always best for writing. But. You
know. My opinion.
Last of all auditory silence is indoor silence. I suppose
this might feel nice to some people, but for me… it’s static-y and
uncomfortable, and makes me (even) less able to sit straight. It’s like florescent light, which, I suppose,
I am writing this under right now, odd as it is (well, with a candle. It might
seem strange, but florescent light+candlelight create the best atmosphere for
writing for me. Give it a try- just don’t burn your notebook!)
It’s weird for me that sitting on this dam at golden hour in
February, I’m writing this. But February is a month were things both speed up
and slow down, in that pleasant learn-to-reflect-upon-the-moment way. It’s a
month good for writing, because February, in my mind, rings up like the silence
with motion; the blank silence and the loud silence (type three and type
two). It’s a month particularly good for
journaling and daydreaming. Sort of a stargazing month. No, sort of a month for
the cosmically-minded (“cosmically”. another “stargazing” and “bounce” word.)
it’s blank, and ready for you to cover with thoughts. February is like doodling
on a night sky, drawing your own constellations and musings.I call it the month
of Optimism because it is really a season you have to create in your own mind.
A season to get going… why doesn’t the year start in February? (Nina. Chinese
New Year. February. Did you really forget?)
Try to back up or close in with your writing. Write the life
of your characters from the perspective of a complete stranger observing them
at an unusual place- say, an airport, or a grocery store in a town where they
don’t live; or write from a teacher’s perspective, imagining his/her pupil’s
home life when he/she meets the character’s parents at a parent teacher
conference. Not just different point of view, macro point of view (macro as in
large, or far away, not macro the photography term, as in large aka zoomed in)
Or imagine it macro, ala the photography term. Zoomed in. Write about a
character’s, well, character based on how he/or she examines a leaf, for
example. Or his/her thoughts on the ride home on the subway. Back up or zoom
in; change how you typically do things. You can journal in this way too. Write
your day backed up, looking at how your life would look from the point of view
of that one day. Or write your thoughts about one moment- the sun shining into
your car on your ride home, for example, or the sound of today’s walk. Or,
write a story completely through the sounds you would hear if you listened to
an audio recording of it happening. (There’s a book written this way, if anyone
remembers what it’s called, comment telling me, please.)
There’s this blogger named Gretchen Rubin (
http://www.happiness-project.com)
who I love to read the work of. She writes a column in Good Housekeeping
(really the only reason I would ever open that magazine), and this month, she
wrote about waking up earlier in order to do something before work (or school),
such as read. I tried waking up at 5:45 today. To my surprise, it was… fun?
Yes. It was silent in that third way, and I journaled for a long time, though I
didn’t get out of bed until
it was
legitimately time to go get ready for school. And, strangely, I recommend it
for writers and readers- waking up 45 minutes- an hour earlier than you have
to. It’s actually a strangely good time for the muse to come visit.
For the Photographers
One of the things that I believe is that photography is
truly an extension of writing or daydreaming (But then, I (don’t) believe in a
lot of things. You wouldn’t either, had you grown up in a library full of
melodramatic romance novels
----thing-from-my-book-which-you-should-totally-all-read) the thing about
February is that it’s visually silent, too. It, just like the morning silence I
described in the previous section, waits for you to fill it with your style.
Photography is storytelling, and it’s seeing a moment through different eyes.
Go macro or go wide-angle. Try to work on your style; February is really a test
in skill as a visual story teller (An Ordinary Utopia quote- “‘But what if
there’s nothing beautiful to capture?’ ‘That’s the best part. Then you get to
make it beautiful’”) It’s seeing the month from a perspective no one else can.
February seems boring and flat, but there’s so much hidden below its surface…
it’s sort of like a fractal. Or. Februaryception.
February is a good time to learn:
beginner’s level: composition
intermediate level (with a DSLR): manual photography
intermediate level (with or without a DSLR): light
advanced level: freelensing
really advanced level: film cameras (as in, non-digital
cameras), toy cameras, panoramas, time lapse)
Visual silence is the thing that makes February beautiful if
you can capture it right. It’s smooth and silken and works perfectly as a
canvas for fancier camera tricks you’ve been wanting to apply; or, simply, for
capturing the calm that a walk brings. The most important thing to learn is to
capture the light correctly; that’s what tells the specific moment apart from
other people’s view of life.
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February in three songs;
1. Little Talks
This is my new favourite writing song; a second type silence
song. It sounds even better when played in a candlelit room (true story)
2. Carry On
This. Just. I loved Fun. before, but I love them so much
more now. Also perfect for the month of Optimism.
3. Fix You
I still cry everytime. This’s been my favourite song for… a
year and a half now? You should listen if you’ve never heard it before. I’m
actually listening to it as I type.
and, on one last note…
Mail Art/ Happy Mail (for examples…
http://redletterzine.blogspot.com)
is an art form I’ve become obsessed with lately. It’s making handmade
postcards, collages and packages/envelopes to fill with letters and goodies and
send through the post to your intended recipient. One of my best friends,
Sarah, has been the recipient of almost all of my such things, but she hasn’t
sent me much in return. If you think a swap like that looks fun, email me at
sunlitdays022@yahoo.com with your
name and blog URL, so that I can arrange a mail art swap with you (you will
have to give me your address, and promise to send something) I also happen to
be in possession of a large quantity of The Fault in Our Stars temporary
tattoos (YES! You read that correctly) and whatever you receive from me may
contain one…. (bribery… I know, I know.) You can see them in the previous post
(the photographs from the Nerdfighter gathering where I got the tattoos from.)
Happy Febraury.
P.S. Gretchen Rubin says give up sleeping in for lent. Seems
legit.
