Experimental Living

This should be interesting.

I've made some decisions about how I want to move forward in my life - how I want to live, how to not be tight and scared and battened down, but instead be open and joyful and daring.

To that end, I've set myself some hard dates for all these changes to be put in motion, about a month from now.

But then I got to thinking. I know what will make me happy. I know what fulfills me in life. I've made lists and a plan to get me there.

So why am I waiting?

Why shouldn't I start doing all those important things, those personal rituals, NOW, in the less-than-perfect conditions? Isn't waiting for the rest of the changes to take effect the same old dysfunctional "when the time is right and everything else is done and Mercury is out of retrograde" thinking that got me into this mess in the first damn place?

So I'm going to try a little experiment, and I'd love it if you guys would try it with me. Then we can all compare notes when it's done.

For the next four weeks, let's live the way we believe, in our heart of hearts, that we are meant to.

Here's what that looks like for me:

Look, Ma, I made a graphic!

So that's it. What's on your list? It may not be quite so structured, but I tend to agree with Twyla Tharp - framework and routine are the best friends creative practice can have.

So let's do this now, when conditions aren't perfect and the stars have yet to align. It's only four weeks. You can do anything for a month, right?

For Example ...

What's it look like, to live Using the Good Soap? Let me illustrate with a recent story...

One day, not long after we had moved from the Little City to the Big City, the Songwriter got into a car accident. He wasn't hurt, but our trusty little $1600 Nissan was crunched beyond repair.

Now, thanks to Big City amenities, this wasn't a total tragedy. We could both take public transit to work, we had a grocery and a coffee place and a Jamba Juice within walking distance, not to mention the fine SoCal weather to make it all practical.

So we did the unthinkable in L.A. We lived without a car.

If we wanted to go to the desert or Ikea, we rented a car for the weekend (thank you, ASCAP discount!)

We talked about getting a car. We talked about whether we even wanted a car (most days, not really). We talked about seeing just how long we could go, like it was some sort of sustainable living Survivor challenge. And eventually, the days when we really did wish we had a car started to stack up.

But it was kind of miserable, scouring Craigslist, day after freaking day, trying to find something in our price range that a) wasn't on its last wheels or b) didn't smell like decomposing socks or c) need some major mechanical system replaced (Dear CL sellers: There is no such thing as "just a new transmission").

Also, it would be nice if it looked cool. Or at least not embarrassing.

At last, our patience was rewarded. The Songwriter found something. Something special.

Meet Nic.

He's a 1984 Cadillac Seville with 32K original miles. I admit I was a little skeptical at first, largely because of this:

Nic* is what is commonly called a "slantback" which always sounds like some sort of inappropriate ethnic slur to me. (As opposed to all those appropriate ones?) I wasn't a big fan of this design feature.

But as the Songwriter pointed out, this car looked like something. It had style. My grandfather always loved Cadillacs, and he had a '59 this exact color. What can I say? I melted.

This car gets us places, which is its utilitarian function. But it also makes us smile when we look at it, and feel good when we're inside it (tufted. leather. seats. Seriously.) We tinker, fixing up this or cleaning that. It brings us joy, in addition to bringing us groceries.

And that is the way I want to live.

*I originally named* the car for the Dogs D'Amour song "Lady Nicotine," because it is the warm color of a white guitar that has been in too many smoky bars. The Songwriter liked this in concept, but pointed to the great hulk of steel and said, "Look at it! That is NO lady!" I had to agree.  So now he's just Nic.


*What do you mean you don't name your cars?! You're weird.