heathervescent

Speaking in 2012

As 2011 winds down, I'm actively planning my 2012 year. As in this year, I plan to speak and lead the discussion on the Future of Transactions and the changing thing we call Money. I have a few confirmed speaking gigs.

• The New Age of Money or How I learned to stop worrying and love the economic collapse , a Future 15 session at SXSW Interactive, Austin, March 2012. In 12 minutes I will share positive visions of the unfolding new age of money and how this will make the humanity more effective and have more fulfilling lives.
• Tomorrow's Transactions, Digital Money Forum, London, March 2012
• The Future of Shopping with Emily Empel at the World Future Society, Toronto, July 2012. Emily and I are joining forces blending our research on the Future of Shopping and  Future of Transactions to lead an interactive session where we'll share the results of our academic research through hands-on inter-activities.

If you're interested in hearing about my research, invite me to speak at your conference or private events. Just contact me. 

Writers Meet

It's early dark, the sun set hours ago. I'm driving east to meet a friend, the first woman I met in Los Angeles. Hard to believe that was so many years ago. I remember staying in her house and the mutual inspiration, the years of adventures we later had in the Future (the name we affectionately called the house we bought together).

We had been trying to meet up for several months, but our travel schedules were opposite. Finally, for one day between trips, we found ourselves in our same city. We met at a natural cuisine restaurant on Hillhurst. I don't make it much outside my West Hollywood borders these days and I forgot how much I love this street with it's restaurants (many new ones!) and boutique shops. I've got to get over there more often.

So here I was, back with my Future pardner and we're catching up and talking about our writing projects. I tell her about my films, she about her hard-boiled screenplay and book. We're talking about the writer's craft, and I ask her, if her characters have taken on a life of their own. Oh yes she replies, telling me her characters are very different from the way she initially envisioned them. Surprising to her and also challenging. 

I experienced this with my recent screenplay stories. The characters I envisioned at the onset, change as I bring them into this reality through these letters, words. As Steven Pressfield would say, it's the muse talking through my fingers. These stories are not mine, but use me to express themselves, to manifest - often out of the collective unconsciousness.

The best advice given to her, "Write ferociously."

Caressing a City

It's freaking cold, probably only 50 degrees or so, but for someone who doesn't own a winter coat, that's cold enough. I'm bundled up, wearing layers, sweaters, gloves, hat, scarf. I'm walking around the East Village. I'm taking it in. Running a finger along the edge of this city. 

Over drinks, in passing conversations I question. I'm gathering research, experiences, impressions. Tapping out the studs while admiring the wallpaper. Some tell me I'll never crack the essence of NYC. The vibe, the experience. But I'm not shooting to understand all in 7 days; just identify the pathways to unfolding, walk a bit down them, caressing with my presence, awareness, observations. Identify the anchor points.

I learn, see, understand as I probe. Then it's enough and I go back into the city. Walking her streets, dark, gritty, dirty streets. Finding my way (easily) through mazes and tunnels. Trains. Watching people. As individuals. As mass. I'm them too. The wind blows (cold), chill with Autumn. I lift my head, open my nostrils and deeply inhale. Taking the cold scent into my lungs. The city gives me what I am looking for, embracing me back.

Showing the Throat

I learn a lot about other people when I show my vulnerabilities.

From my perspective, I don't have a lot to lose being vulnerable. Or rather, I have come to terms with the (possible imagined) downsides. On the positive, we've forged an anonymous connection; while the best scenario is we forge a real connection. But if there's no connection, it's totally fine, I've gathered information.

Someone a long time ago, said it was my vulnerabilities that made him love me. I was in a very vulnerable part of my life, reconfiguring it dramatically (trading my previous traditional choices for a life of possibilities, walks into the unknown and unknowable). It was fucking scary. I didn't like being vulnerable. Showing my flaws, imperfections. I learned you have to be open to let the impossible/unknown flow into life. To trust. Sure, I've been betrayed, stabbed in the heart. But in the end, you have to get over the pain, the amargosa. (Se eu nao tenho meu amor, eu tenho minha dor.) Cabiria knows, life goes on.

Life is not a safe place.

I think we forget that, because we have used technology to make it safer. Technology and Knowledge and Culture insulate, make us forget this wild, magical, world full of beauty, possibility, pain and raw experience. To experience that, I offer my throat.  

Urban Camping Exploration

With begrudging excitement I zipped through traffic on the 405. Shifting up and down the gears as I defragged the freeway, playing a game I call threading the needle. A final zip into the parking garage before the parking break and clip clop of fluevogs on pavement. I left my race driver persona along with my keys with the attendant. 

I'm embarking on an adventure I have been calling Urban Camping. 

Let me explain. While staying with some friends in San Francisco I was looking for some easy exercise. Rosie suggested I do some urban hiking, which was basically going on a hike in the city. My destination was Mt Davidson - the highest point in San Francisco - and I did some serious hill climbing to get up there. I decided to take the concept farther with my next New York trip.

New York is a weird place for an Angelino like me. I've traveled through the City often enough. I've had more than one SO hailing from the place. But I always thought of myself as from the wild west, riding my iron horse, big sky mountain range Mojave vistas. I turned my nose up to the Big City. It could offer me nothing my Queen of Angels couldn't provide in bounty. Besides, I wasn't convinced New York was a modern city. It was an old piece of machinery, well greased, but built and representing an old paradigm. 

Ok, so I had some baggage. 

And when I find baggage, I proceed to unpack it, assimilate it and/or throw it out. What better time to challenge my assumptions?

In my mind, I'm packing for the desert. I've got my camping gear, my hiking gear, warm weather clothes, serious footwear, my morning coffee ritual needing only boiling water, which for urban camping is an electric teakettle. My mind is open, I'm leaving judgements behind, the space for possibilities exists. Unknown possibilities. Wildcards in my mind.

Midnight arrival. I immediately feel the press of humanity. Discombobulated. Setting up camp at 1am is never much fun, especially if you haven't been to the campsite before. Fitful night of sleep. No coyote calls. No stars at night, but the lights are bright and brilliant far into the sky. Morning coffee calms, complete with my Vietnamese Cinnamon. I meditate on clothing selections for the upcoming hike: Times Square via Subway from Brooklyn.

I hesitate for a moment, take a breath, charge my metro card, then jump. There will be only a short time of new, fumbling, discovering. Eventually we will know each other. I ask the Queen of Angels to forgive my absence. I have never loved a city like I love her. But we haven't seen much of each other recently. New York calls, as does London, Brussels, San Francisco. Cities of past adventures, returning to the spotlight. What can I do but acquiesce? Explore possibilities. Cultivate curiousity.

I ride the subway. I walk. I take elevators. Everywhere people. I look at the view. I study maps. I start to understand the land, coated with humanity, our efforts. I watch balloons rise in the towers of air, between towers of steel and glass. I start to recognize. To familiarize. Things stop being new. I'm starting to unpeel the layers. To feel the pulse. To adapt. I hear the proto-words whispered, the proto-language of the city. I respond with affection, exploration, calm presence. We've got time to know each other. To enjoy the unfolding.