Local and Sustainable Holiday Shopping Ideas

I am not really a fan of Christmas. I'm not a Christian and the holiday doesn't hold much meaning for me. I'd rather give someone a present on a random Tuesday and share greetings and good times throughout the year than try to pack it all in to one hymn-laden, over-scheduled month.

I'm not a total Grinch or anything. I still believe in getting presents for kids and letting them experience the magic of Santa Claus and all that. I like having a big meal with loved ones, singing a few carols and watching the 1951 version of Scrooge (A Christmas Carol) with the brilliant Alastair "I-don't-deserve-to-be-so-happy!" Sim.

But I'm perfectly happy not to get any presents.

However, I know not everyone chooses to opt out of the season to the extent I do. And if you are shopping around for holiday treats, I happen to have some great local, indie and/or sustainable gift ideas, in Nova Scotia, in Toronto, and, as things go these days, online, too.

Nova Scotia/online:

1. My new record Blackbirds, of course. It's available for sale at The Biscuit Eater Cafe and Bookstore in Mahone Bay, The Power House Gallery in Lunenburg and this Saturday only, from 1-6pm at the Holiday Artist's Market that is taking place at the Lunenburg Cultural Centre (I'll also be playing music there, swapping sets with brilliant finger-style guitarist Bob Ardern). It's also available online, shipping physical copies from Canada (i.e. my house) through Bandcamp, from the US through CDBaby, and digital copies through those two - and through iTunes (did you know you can gift music through iTunes? You just need to know the e-mail address the recipient uses for their iTunes account.)
2. My Mom, Janet Barkhouse's picture book version of my Nana's novel, Pit Pony. (Mom will be reading and signing books at The Biscuit Eater Cafe and Bookstore in Mahone Bay this Sunday, December 2).
   
3. My cousin Nancy's awesome handbags. Check 'em out here at NPK designs on Facebook:
   
4. Art from Power House Gallery in Lunenburg, especially art by Lynn Misner, the genius artist who painted, "The Caretaker", the piece that graces the cover of my new CD:
   
5. The Ark (655 King Street, Bridgewater): a great place to buy gifts and support a community of physically and mentally challenged adults at the same time. I love the things made by the folks at The Ark, especially their handcrafted rugs, cushions and woodworking. 

Toronto/online:

1. Firefly Creative writing's on-site and on-line writing workshops, especially The Blog Shop, a weekend on-line workshop for aspiring and stuck bloggers.
2. A Nia Dance Party with Jenn Hicks. Fun, uplifting, good times dancing with your friends.
3. Creativity coaching with Danette Relic at The Radical Creative Sanctuary.
4. Life coaching from Jamie Ridler. And, while you're there shopping, make sure to sign up for Jamie's motivating free newsletter yourself.

Online:

1. Reflections: an inspiration journal from Paper Bag Press: an art journal to inspire artistic creativity.
2. Feeling a little frisky? For those intimate friends, how about something from Kim at Ecosex.ca?

Oh, so many wonderful ideas—gifts you can feel good about giving and that your recipients will love!

Happy holidays!

Starving Artist? It's all relative

It's seven degrees Celsius today in West Dublin, NS. A beautiful day! So nice that I ate my lunch sitting on the back stoop and this afternoon I'm going to tackle the wood pile. I can't help but think that six weeks ago, a seven degree day was freezing! And now, it's a warm day.

I've been thinking about that in terms of money, too. I think we're all prone, and maybe artists more than some, to thinking that we're poor. Tight of funds. Struggling to get by. The image of the Starving Artist looms large. Artists pour a lot of time, energy and money into doing what we love. And then we feel strapped for cash. Crossing our fingers that just one more person will buy our new record (hint, hint) on Bandcamp and we'll be able to pay rent the next month.

But, I'm giving myself a wake-up and a shake-up. I am not poor. I am warm, properly fed and live in the most beautiful place in the world. My rent is pretty cheap and there are six cords of wood out back, just waiting to be stacked.

To find true poverty, I don't have to look very far. In the midst of our affluent nation, there are people living in construction trailers which were never meant to be residences. There are people struggling for the bare necessities.

I was reminded of that this week, when my friend Todd invited me to Share Something Day, an event that he is organizing through his 500 Kindnesses project on November 23, 2012. On the same day as Black Friday and Buy Nothing Day, Todd is inviting people to simply share something of their choice either with friends or strangers.

It happens that I have a show on Friday, November 23. I'll be singing and playing at The Biscuit Eater Cafe and Bookstore. I had a show at the Biscuit Eater last November, too, right around the time that the news about Attawapiskat was hitting its peak (remember Attawapiskat? You can find updates on how they're doing now on their web site). Last year, I donated all sales of merchandise from The Biscuit Eater show to Shannen's Dream, a charity that is working for the people of Attawapiskat. And I'm going to do the same thing this year. So, please come on out and pick up a copy of my new CD. Or a T-shirt. Or an old CD. If you can't make it to the show, consider giving to a charity of your choice, just because you can.

To heck with feeling poor, I say. It's a crazy way to feel when I was born into a level of privilege and comfort that much of the world only dreams of.

Starving Artist? It's all relative.

The Curse of Longing to be Cool

It feels like it been part of me as long as I can remember – a yearning to be cool.

I'm a younger sibling, so when I was a kid, it was my big sister who was the epitome of cool for me. She was so cool. The way she dressed, the things she said and did. So cool. I always felt like the geeky, gawky little sister. Blushing around my sister's cool friends. Stammering. 

I was a brainiac in school – so, not cool there. In high school, I hung out in the band room and floated between cliques. People liked to copy my Poly Sci notes, but they didn't often invite me to their parties. And when they did, I rarely went. No car. No boyfriend-with-a-car. Living in the middle of nowhere. Didn't drink, smoke or do drugs. Not cool.

When I went to university, I found my people. My residence house (which had had trouble with wild, drunken parties the year before), was packed with scholarship students in an attempt to improve house behaviour. We became a strange family of geeks and nerds, getting high GPAs, having deep conversations at three in the morning and eschewing coolness. (At the same time that we blushed and stammered around anyone we thought was cool).

I never mastered cool. Never even got so I could simulate it. Somewhere along the way I learned that it is just not me. I'm not myself when I'm trying to be cool. I'm the big, open-hearted, sloppy, emotional, vulnerable, messy geek type and I always will be.

Funny that I wound up in a business that loves coolness. We love the artists who are so well put together. The shiny people. The ones who seems impervious to the hurts of the world, even if they sometimes write songs about them. The invincible people we can dream about being.

As I think about going to Nova Scotia Music Week today, my longing to be cool is fully alive. I would like for all the people I've met before to remember who I am. I would like to be the person everybody knows, to have tons of cool conversations with cool people. But I know that's not what will happen. I'll be a pretty anonymous 41-year-old woman. I'll see a few friends and have great conversations with them. A couple of people will tell me they've heard my new record, and that they like it. But mostly, I'll float around, watching and listening to the cool people. I'll think about who we might book for the coming season of the Little River Folk Society. I'll think about my community and all the different ways we build that together. I'll meditate on the coolness that seems just out of reach for me. And I'll think about how happy I am to be alive and absolutely myself, with no need to compromise that for any reason. And maybe I'll write a song about it.