Forward/Story or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Inner Critic

Expectations and judgment stifled me for almost three years. After my wife and I had a child, I shifted focus from making art to raising our daughter. It was love beyond belief to care for this beautiful, sweet girl, but the longer I didn’t make art, the easier it was to let fear and rules prevent me from creating.

I listened to the voices: Telling me I’m not allowed to write others’ stories. Telling me I need more formal education to succeed. Telling me success is about money.

These voices weren’t others’. They were in my mind. Not literal voices. I’m not mad. But sometimes, that screaming inner critic felt like it was pushing me to madness.

Long ago, I told someone, “I want to use my powers for good.” These powers are imagination and creativity — voices spinning stories in my head. Fiction disguised as fact. I must share the tales, or they’ll eat me inside out.

Recently, I let it all go at Forward/Story, a storyteller’s retreat/lab in Nosara, Costa Rica organized by Lance Weiler and Christy Dena. It was joy and wonder. It was spiritual. It was a breakthrough. I finally found my soul again. These aren’t hyperbole. I reconnected with my powers.

On the beach, I spoke with another artist who works in a different genre than I, from another country than I, of another race and gender than I. I learned. I grew.

In a creation session with three strangers, we synchronized, bounced ideas, and fashioned a fun experience. Harmony in work. I’d forgotten it exists. I remembered.

Feeling judged. Laser eyes piercing my body and splitting it into a million pieces. Then, I remembered it’s not about me. It’s their hang-ups. The fear isn’t real. It’s a story I’m telling myself.

Jumping off the edge of a cliff and flying through the jungle on a cable the size of my finger inspired freedom. Fears and rules will bound me if I let them. Forward/Story liberated me from rules and shed my fears, which freed me to take flight.

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words of gratitude

old sayings
new adages
remixed ideas
pure love
authentic actions
heartfelt generosity
thoughtful words
sincere listening
fearless creativity
tenacious artists
good work
steadfast friends
supportive family
open hearts
enlightened discovery
releasing yesterday
worriless tomorrow
embracing today

enter the burn – part deux

I love to watch stuff burn. I’m drawn like a moth, hypnotized when flames play in the wind and consume oxygen, paper or wood. Twice, as a child, I almost caught our house on fire from playing with it. Finally, I figured out fire isn’t a toy, but an element to revere. A year ago, I made it to the festival that celebrates fire (and much more) in all its glory: Burning Man.

My first pilgrimage to the desert was difficult, fun, sad, joyful and rewarding. Burning Man is a lot of things to a lot of people. Just as with any art, everyone has her/his own relationship to it, and some people love it while others can’t be bothered.

No matter your take, I’m amped. When I saw a video documenting the creation of the official welcome sign, it fueled my fire.

Burning Man 2012 – Fertility 2.0 Festival Sign from Mad Dog on Vimeo.

Earlier this year, Tedshots posted a beautiful adaptation of Dr. Seuss’ “Oh, the Places You’ll Go!” shot in 2011. It’s one of my favorites.

Now that I have the lay of the land and a better perspective on the culture of it all, I’m hoping I’ll be able to see more fun things. This video by Rainbow Raccoon is long, but that’s because it covers so much. I didn’t even see several wonders it features.

Home is where the heart is, and I know so many burners declare it’s like returning home. It may seem silly to you, or perhaps you’re a kindred spirit who gets it. Whatever the case, my heart fills when I imagine riding my bike across the playa.

kibibi dillon

The first thing you need to know: her name is pronounced “Key-Bee-Bee.” Not Ki-Bye-Bye. Not Ki-Boo-Bee. It’s, Kibibi. Dillon. But more important than how to correctly pronounce her name is understanding her heart.

I was inspired by this fantastically funny and loving woman. Yesterday, she died. And to me, death means we’re experiencing it. We’re doing it. That thing we all have to do. Follow life into death. It’s inevitable, and yet it’s part of life.

Kibibi followed life. Wherever it took her, she went. Whether creating a salon in her living room, filling the Zipper with joy and dreams, or kicking it at a club with other comics, Kibibi lived her life.

We met about six years ago, and I remember watching one of her first stand up shows. For the past couple years, I had the honor of working with Kibibi and seeing her realize dreams. She’d always been funny. Knew how to MC an event. But she wanted to be a comedian. For real. She wanted to tell the same twenty minutes to people gig after gig. She wanted to clown the crowd. She wanted to hit eight clubs in one night. And she didn’t want to hear you think women aren’t funny.

When she moved back to California earlier this year, I missed saying good bye. That’s why I’m writing. To say thanks for inspiring me to follow where life leads. The night before she died, Kibibi did what she loved doing. She made people laugh. She made people think. She touched lives.

I challenge you to think about how you can touch others’ lives. Today, that is my meditation.

Thanks, Kibibi.

praise christy

For our wedding, I prepared a little surprise for my wife and gathered all her friends for a flash mob. The video’s all family shot (special thanks to Josh Crowley & Joanna Carter) and final photo by Pat Furey.

I’ve cobbled it together. But you get the idea.

Much love to my lovely wife, Christy. I hafta praise you.