Color outside the lines

An interview with Thomas Lloyd Qualls

The forces in our lives are constantly colliding—sometimes in ways that work out well and sometimes in ways that don’t. This interview series is an exploration of what it can look like to work with the collisions, rather than against them. By digging into how humans and nature interact– from our relationships with other humans, to those with our non-human neighbors, to our relationship with ourselves to our relationship with the landbase–we can uncover how to best step fully into our role in the story of the world.

Today’s guest on the Ordinary Collisions Interview Series is Thomas Lloyd Qualls. I met Thomas via our shared publisher, Homebound Publications, when his novel Painted Oxen won the 2018 Landmark Prize for Fiction—he asked me if I’d consider reading the novel and offering an endorsement. I said yes, and then wholeheartedly offered praise for the work—it captivated me from the first few pages. Since then we’ve stayed in touch about various bookish happenings, from strategies on marketing to adding biodynamic farming to a storyline to continuing to support one another’s work in various ways.

So, reader, with out further adieu, may I introduce Thomas Lloyd Qualls. He’s a writer (a condition that is apparently incurable) as well as a former music festival owner, a licensed attorney who has overturned two death sentences, and a one-time vagabond who used to wander the globe with a backpack and three changes of clothes. With all his creative work, Thomas seeks to bridge the worlds of literary and spiritual and to create work that is difficult to label.

Heidi: Here’s to work that’s difficult to label….reminds me of how someone told me that I’d created a new genre with Collisions of Earth and Sky. ‘Difficult to label’ is a worthy goal. 😊

So thanks for being here with us today, my friend. To start, I always ask the same question: What are two forces that are colliding in your life right now (or that have in the not too distant past)?

TLQ: Reality and idealism. Specifically, how to live in the world as it is and not be too distracted by how we want things to be. I think this is pretty common for most humans. And it is something we all must learn to reconcile if we want to learn how to be happy, especially at this time in human history.

This situation is further complicated by the fact that how we look at something depends upon how we see it. So I am frequently asking myself whether something is true, and if so, what if I turn my attention a few degrees in another direction? Is there more to the story? Add to this the fact that all things in the universe exist is a paradox of sorts. Both this thing and its opposite are often true. All of this adds up to an environment that could easily drive us mad.

Or we can use it for creative fodder. If we keep our senses of wonder and humor intact, if we stay playfully curious, then we may be able to break through the conundrum.

Heidi: Oh yes… “how we look at something” sure has impact, in so many ways….as does letting wonder and curiosity lead our creative choices. Well, all our choices, really.

How are you navigating the conditions this collision is creating? How does the dissonance created impact your choices?

TLQ: It depends upon the day as to how well I am navigating the conditions and the cognitive dissonance. There are the conditions in the macro world, things like the climate crisis, the political landscape, and the potential implosion of long-standing institutions such as health care, banking, and the legal system. And there are conditions in my microcosm, such as parenting, relationships, and planning for the immediate future. All these things cause big or small tensions in my day-to-day life. And sometimes I realize there is this base-level anxiety that exists all the time.

For most of my life, these two forces, reality and idealism, have at least felt like they were a manageable distance apart. I believed that with hard work, political will, and the courage of our convictions, we could bring them closer together. Now, I’m not so sure.

Increasingly, I think our challenge is to live in a world that will always be broken (and may actually become much more broken) and figure out how to cultivate joy and happiness anyway. My brain really wants to figure things out. It wants to come up with a plan for how to navigate any of the potential (likely?) catastrophes on the horizon, while still keeping everything intact in my microcosm.

Of course, most everything, even my day-to-day struggles in my personal life, are outside my brain’s ability to fix. And so, this is where we must fall back on the ancient teachings that tell us to let go and flow with things as they are, instead of clinging to the rocks in the river.

Heidi: Brings Rumi to mind: “Life is a balance of holding on and letting go.” (Heavy emphasis of letting go.) What has this collision taught you about yourself? The world?

TLQ: Mainly, that I have no idea what I am doing. It is like the ultimate ego-death, without having to go on any shamanic psychedelic journey.

I read a while back that the word apocalypse comes from a Greek word meaning lifting of the veil. Now, because of our conditioning, the word apocalypse feels scary, something indicating the end times. But, like most things, there is more than one way of seeing it. And while disillusionment can be unsettling, it can also be liberating. In other words, imagine what we might be able to do if we dropped the constricting ideas of ourselves we’ve carried for most of our lives. If we were able to see ourselves and the world more clearly. This isn’t a new idea, by the way. In 1790, William Blake wrote, “If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite.”

Here’s a different way of explaining it. A few years ago, I walked on fire. And it had a profound impact on me. In short, it rewired my brain. One of the earliest things we are taught, one of the most universal and basic laws of being human, is that fire burns. If that is not always true, what else might be possible that we think is unthinkable? That is the kind of liberation I’m talking about.

The fire can be a metaphor for any kind of challenge we are facing in our lives. It looks pretty scary from this side of the coals. Like we’ll never be able to cross it. Especially not with our bare feet. But if we let go of some of our conditioning, and we stop trying to figure it out with our small brains, we might be surprised at what is possible.

Heidi: The capacity to rewire the brain is so fascinating, and so hopeful, especially during those times when everything feels stuck. And here’s to not knowing what we’re doing, but doing things anyway. The older I get, the less I know, and that is a very refreshing thing indeed.

I’ve love to hear about a collision you’re exploring in your latest project. What are you working on?

TLQ: I’m working on kind of an unconventional book on creativity right now. The collisions I am wrangling with that project, and the courses that will go along with it, are conventional life versus artistic or creative life. The bottom line is that, in order to live a creative life, you’ve got to break some rules, written and unwritten.

And so I am teaching people that the access points, the portals to a creative life, are all around them. But just like the firewalk, you’ve got to be able to challenge your ideas of life.

Heidi: Anything else to share with us today?

TLQ: I am hosting a three-day creativity retreat, based upon these principles, at beautiful Lake Tahoe.

The dates are September 21-24, 2023.

Spots are limited, and will definitely sell out, so if this speaks to you, I really encourage you to sign up soon. Wellness and creativity workshops really have taken off in recent years. But I don’t know of anyone else doing this kind of thing. It is not just a fusion of those two things, it is re-teaching people how to be in their lives.

Heidi: Well, that sounds delightful. Tahoe in the autumn, creativity, and rule-breaking. If I didn’t have some other commitments that weekend, I’d sign up in a heartbeat. To unlearning, and re-teaching, and all the possibilities that lie within such a path.

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Have a collision you’d like to explore in this space? Send me an email at heidi@heidibarr.com.