I didn’t set out to collect quotes. I simply wanted to randomly be inspired, or challenged to think, by things others have said or written.
…and 30 years later, I now get a little email from my past self every day. No noise. Just a quote. https://littleboxofquotes.com/
In 1994 I began collecting inspirational quotes, displaying them randomly on my personal blog. After a few years I copied them all onto 3×5 cards. I put them in a small box and continued to add cards. Today, there are more than 1,500 quotes and the collection continues to grow.
Very early in my rediscovery of movement, someone said: What was once your workout, will one day be your warmup. It’s both motivating (simply do what you can, today, and the changes will come) and inspiring (it implies that the people far ahead, at one time, were here, where I am today). I can now see in hindsight that it is an expansive perspective: One will expand their capabilities as one expands one’s practice to bigger and better things.
Years later I realised that the answer to this question is: everything. There can be more articulation of the toes; rotation can be made more extreme; even that ineffable quality of artistry can be developed. It’s often thought that the greater your prowess, the easier your performance becomes. However, as I progressed upward through the ranks of the ballet world, I saw that this wasn’t the case.
Clear cut and plant. Clear cut and plant. I’m not sure, but this doesn’t feel like a great idea. I started reading this article thinking it wasn’t going to be that interesting. I was wrong. I’ve moved through forest where there are no trails: doing boundary monitoring and corridor maintenance for the Appalachian Trail Council, and bush–whacking towards rock climbing. It’s type-2 fun. But reading about what these super-humans do to move through clear-cut “blocks”… *shudders* that’s definitely type-3 fun.
Up in the sparsely populated wildernesses of the north, meanwhile, logging companies work 24/7 to fell trees for lumber, leaving behind ‘cut blocks’ – bleak fields of stumps, mulch, roots and detritus covering thousands of hectares. Following in their wake come hordes of seasonal tree planters, who drive for miles up dangerous roads to enter these remote areas. Staying in basic bush camps, off the grid and armed only with shovels and bags of saplings, they set about creating new forests from scratch.
“Fun” comes in 3 types: Type-1 fun is fun in the moment. Type-2 fun isn’t fun now, but we’re really going to enjoy this once we get past this sucky part, even more so as soon as we’re done, and especially years from now when we retell this story. Type-3 fun isn’t fun now, mistakes have been made, life choices need reconsidering and this is actually going to be a cautionary tale when retold.
Preparation—getting everything just so, the right desk, the right software and computer, the right room, the right beverage, the right time, the right mindset—is really simply a form of hiding. Sometimes it’s only a few moments, sometimes it’s days, but I always hide before writing every single one of these blog posts. I definitely don’t enjoy the hiding. I mildly enjoy the writing. I love the reading and thinking parts that this 13-year labor of insanity requires. But some people are not only good at the writing, they absolutely love the craft of writing itself.
While you or I may respond with a counter-argument, Tolkien went home and wrote 148 lines of heroic couplet […]
This seemed insane. Who would take an idea for a counter-argument, from a conversation, and rush off to go write for what must have been hours? And then I realized that I do that sort of thing all the time. I run with an idea down some rabbit hole, forming it into something real in the world. It’s only that I don’t it with writing.
In the most recent months I’ve been waking up with this strange sensation. In the Fall I started deleting things; I started changing projects to require less input, simplifying where I could, and in some cases outright eliminating. Whereas in recent years I’ve generally awakened with a sense of “should”—I should do this, I should have yesterday done that—in the most recent months I’ve awakened with this strange sensation. It’s not optimism per se, but it’s close. What do I want to do today? …do that.
Hovering before me as I wake is the work I know I need to do that day. Inevitably, that labor is daunting. Inescapably, it brings up fear. I don’t want to do it. This fear and this avoidance combine to create the witch’s brew that boils and bubbles in the cauldron of my brain.
In the Age of Fire I continuously expanded what I wanted to do, beyond the bounds of possibility and reason. Lately, having realized that nothing I do actually matters, I’m free—I’ve always been free—to pick a few nice things upon which to apply myself.
What are the creative and technical challenges in adapting stage plays into audio dramas, and how does the medium of podcasting influence storytelling approaches?
Lean into the world of audio drama with Scott Edward Smith, as he transforms historical figures into compelling stories, revealing how he reshaped his approach to storytelling to bring theater to the radio.
As a writer, as a producer, and quite often as the director, I’m taking material that is meant to be seen. And being told you have to make this work in audio—nobody’s going to see what you think— and having to transform… it wasn’t story, it was words. So that the words were more specific. […] It changed how I wrote and also how I spoke, because I had to learn this medium, which gives you no visuals. You have nothing to work with. You just can’t say the things that you do in a play, or a movie or, a television show.
~ Scott Edward Smith (4:20)
Scott Edward Smith and Craig Constantine dig into the world of audio drama and its resurgence in the era of COVID-19. Scott shares his journey from writing for television, movies, and theater to embracing audio dramas due to the pandemic’s impact on traditional media outlets. He highlights how it forced him into the realm of audio storytelling, transforming his approach to narratives and character development.
With historical figures as his subjects, Scott crafts one-person plays that bring these personalities to life, emphasizing the shift from visual to auditory storytelling. This transition, he notes, required a nuanced understanding of how to convey stories solely through sound, making every word and effect crucial in painting vivid pictures for the audience.
Scott discusses several of his works, including audio dramas about Wallace Simpson, Marilyn Monroe, and James Dean, explaining how each project adapted to the audio format’s unique demands. He reflects on the creative process, from the initial concept to the detailed execution, integrating sound effects and music to enhance the listener’s experience.
The conversation also touches on the technical aspects of producing audio dramas, such as segmenting stories for listener convenience and the strategic use of sound to evoke specific settings and emotions. Through these discussions, Scott illustrates the power of audio drama to captivate and engage audiences, offering a theater-like experience through the intimate medium of podcasting.
I can go for walks with others, with music, or with podcasts, and those things usually crowd out my frenzied thoughts and internal monolog. But it’s much better when I manage to leave enough space for my thoughts to settle. Wrestling with my own thinking just gets both of us riled up.
This practice teaches you that you don’t need to address every instance of mental talk you have. In fact, your thoughts will never leave you alone if you try to resolve every train of thought that arises. Instead, you can just enjoy the world as it reveals itself before you.
What insights can movement and breathwork practices offer about self-awareness, adaptability, and the interplay of emotional, physical, and creative aspects in our lives?
Julie Angel describes her multifaceted approach to movement, breath–work, and life as ‘everything everywhere all at once,’ revealing a seamless blend of creativity, transformation, and minimalism in her practices.
I’m really lazy. I’m a high performance slacker. And so it has to be simple and minimalist in doing it. If there’s any practice where it’s like: You need to buy all of this equipment, and you need to do all of these things, and you need a membership… I’m just like, no no that’ll be a no. All of those things cause friction points for me, and I don’t do them. So I mean there’s a minimalism, a simplicity, a creativity, and an adaptability; which is why to other people it may seem very different that I I wear all these these hats which I’m equally multi-passionate about. But for me I’m like, same same. [ed: It’s all the same.]
~ Julie Angel, 2:50
Julie Angel and Craig dive into the worlds of movement, breath-work, and the emotional landscape of physical practice. Julie shares her holistic view on movement, emphasizing that everything she does—whether it’s filmmaking, practicing parkour, training others, or walking her dog—interconnects through common threads of exploration, transformation, curiosity, and creativity. The absence of division between her various interests, highlights the blending of her professional and personal pursuits that are driven by a consistent creative spark and a quest for simplicity and minimalism in practice.
Julie also introduces the transformative power of breath–work, recounting her journey from being intrigued by MovNat Aquatics courses to exploring the physiological and psychological impacts of breathing techniques. She discusses her discovery of dysfunctional breathing patterns and how addressing these can profoundly affect one’s health, well–being, and movement capabilities.
Julie’s exploration into breath–work is not just a personal quest but also an educational endeavor, as she aims to share this knowledge through her work, showcasing the significant, often under-appreciated role that breathing plays in enhancing movement, reducing anxiety, and improving overall life quality.
Simply put, all of my problems stem from trying to jam too much into each day. Partly that’s from my having too many ideas. But mostly that’s from insufficient self-awareness to let things go. Over a few decades I’ve steered away from the typical schedule (and it was never anything like a 9-to-5 job.) But I’m still on a strict sleep schedule, with strict light hygiene practices, and no alarm clock. I sleep in utter darkness, and I awake as the room lighting slowly comes up to full brightness—a mimicked sunrise. But I’m still clinging to set times.
Sometimes I break routine by staying out, or up, past my usual bedtime. Sometimes I’m traveling and staying with others. In either case, I don’t seem to have trouble bending my sleep schedule. I’m often the first person to “crash”, but other than that, with a bit of balance-the-total-sleep-time over-sleeping… I feel pretty normal the next day.
All humans, animals, insects and birds have clocks inside, biological devices controlled by genes, proteins and molecular cascades. These inner clocks are connected to the ceaseless yet varying cycle of light and dark caused by the rotation and tilt of our planet. They drive primal physiological, neural and behavioural systems according to a roughly 24-hour cycle, otherwise known as our circadian rhythm, affecting our moods, desires, appetites, sleep patterns, and sense of the passage of time.
Except for how much I can get done. On those “next days” where I’ve been off my rigid sleep times. I get vastly less done, and not just because there are fewer hours in the day when I sleep longer in the morning. In fact, the more I glimpse that other world—went to bed whenever, slept until the right amount of time… and then face a less-productive day. The more I realize, that is the better amount of things to attempt to accomplish: Sleep on a healthy, light-driven cycle, and do half as much in the day.
