Poem, Please ...







   In honor of National Poetry Month, I share with you this poem inspired by the winter we've just had and the spring that's taking her time.  (It's also inspired by a prompt given by my mentor, Kimberly Cloutier-Green, poet extraordinaire, to our poetry circle.) 

No Longer This and Not Yet That                                                              

                                                                        -- Mary Lou Hamilton Bagley

What season this? Not Winter, yet not Spring.
An icy bite and sudden snowflakes form
and dance around, obscuring stark, bare things,
then light upon the crocus' pointed corm

as sunlight breaks from just behind a cloud,
showering us with brightness but no heat,
and makes us gasp with wonderment out loud
and lift our arms and stamp our booted feet

that we can stand here, thus, immersed in both --
in weak but blooming sunshine and in snow --
while still a dream, the greening and the growth,
and still an echo, temps of well below.

The wheel seems stalled.  The Equinox has come,
with equal parts of darkness and of light,
turning now more toward the sun, not from,
as days grow ever longer than the nights;

and yet, deep winter lingers in the air.
Still full of what's been lost, it clings to me.
The ground, once clothed in white, is mostly bare
while dirty mounds hide what is yet to be.

My yard is littered -- branches, twigs and sticks.
Dry crackling leaves from maples, oaks and beech
skitter across the landscape, chase, and mix,
and, dervish-like, in whirling eddies reach

up toward the sky in search of deeper blues
beyond the belly-heavy clouds of white and gray,
to where the birds can see with unobstructed view
that Spring is truly on its warming way.

This in-between time speaks to me of pause,
reminds me of the not 'twixt in and out,
the gap that lies between effect and cause,
what space between each breath is all about.

Played out each day at twilight and at dawn --
that almost light between the night and day,
that violet hour when birds sing evensong --
that spaciousness that lives, and then gives way,

is showing me that I need never fear
when asked to simply be and hold to trust.
If all I've been and known should disappear,
I'm not to grasp at shadows, cling to dust.

The natural world reflects my inner state;
yet I, alone, resist what's underway.
The suffering that I'm feeling, I create:
beg Spring to come; bid Winter not to stay.



   Okay, now it's your turn.  Please accept this as an invitation to write a poem (any style or length) of your own.  Haiku is always fun.  It's made up of three lines, with a 5, 7, and 5 syllable count, and is usually nature-themed.

   When you're done, go out and read it out loud to your backyard, a favorite tree, the birds, your plants, your animal companions, or to yourself.

   Celebrate National Poetry Month with one of your own, won't you?

  

 

 

 

 

Step Gently Into Each New Day

 





  Easter morning and it feels like Spring is actually here in Maine. Time to begin shaking out the contracted, drawn-in energy that has kept us warm through the long white winter. Time to move and stretch and bend and loosen. Time to freshen our approach to the mornings of our days.

  How do you begin your day?  Do you have a routine that sets the tone for the day before you step into it?  Being the creative soul that you are, perhaps it might be beneficial to create one or to revisit and refresh the one you already have?

  Just for fun, here's a little ditty that demonstrates how simple it can be:

Morning Ritual

I awaken, but don’t rise.
I lie breathing with closed eyes.
Breathing in, I take in peace.
Breathing out, all cares release.

Simply breathing, in and out.
Breathing simply, out and in.
Simply breathing, in and out.
Breathing simply once again.

Stretch my body, still in bed.
Clear the cobwebs from my head.
My intention for this day:
to be present, come what may.

I place my feet upon the floor, but
don’t go rushing out the door.
I pause a moment in the NOW.
Hands to heart, I humbly bow.

In the kitchen, I’m alone.
Time to set a peaceful tone.
At the table, set my place,
light a candle, welcome Grace.

Thankful for this morning tea.
Thankful for this time for me.
Thankful for this sacred space
amid my often hectic pace.

I take my pen and start to write.
No time to think, or get it "right."
No time to ask what it's about.
Just let it flow. Just get it out.

... My morning pages now are done,
not meant to share with anyone.
My hand's now loose, my mind's now clear.
I'm now present, fully here.

No matter what may come my way
as now I step into my day,
I know I’m centered in my heart
because I gave my day this start …

Breathing in, I rest awhile …
Breathing out, I simply smile …


  Okay, so this won't win any poetry prizes, but it's light and airy and has the sing-songey rhythm I was looking for. It's in keeping with my uplifted state on this Spring morning.  It's just what I needed to make my point. And so, I'm happy with it.

  Uplifted and enlivened, that's how I intend to step into each day.  As a writer and creative, I intend to make choices that best support my wish to engage fully, richly, and deeply with this incredible life I've been given -- one glorious day at a time.
 
  So, how do you begin your day?  Is your morning routine supportive of the creative life you wish for yourself?  Care to share a brief description of your morning ritual? ...

Are You Serious?







 

A friend, discouraged and feeling pressured to justify her writing time, recently said to me, "Maybe I'm just not a serious writer."

What does it mean to be a "serious writer," anyway? Is it about how often one writes? Is it about whether or not one earns a living at writing? Is it about whether or not one is published? Or, is it simply tied to one's ability to self-identify as "writer?"

The question of how serious she is can only be answered by her. I suspect she's in a place of doubt and disillusionment just now. I suspect her confidence is flagging. I suspect she could use some encouragement from an agent or publisher; or, better yet, a voice from the heavens saying, "The world awaits your stories."  Maybe she just needs a friend to say,"The process - the act of creation - is the only thing that matters. That is the only measure of time well spent. So step into that space wherein you lose yourself in the story and the writing of it. Step into it daily, if you can. Honor your gifts, and write."

I am a writer. I say it out loud. I am a writer with a sometimes irregular writing practice. I live by the motto: nulla dies sine linea - never a day without a line (Horace); yet, I've been known to count my to-do list on a busy day as my line. Though I've taught writing, published short stories, essays, and articles, and I've been commissioned to write everything from letters to personalized pet poems, I have no income from my written works at the moment. I am focused on writing my first novel with no agent or publisher in sight. Yet, I am a serious writer. 

As a serious writer, I read, open myself to new learning opportunities, and stay connected. I read novels, books about writing, and books about writers. I read poetry, pamphlets, and tea bags. I attend workshops, classes, conferences and retreats. I have a circle of writer friends with whom I stay connected. I wander and ponder and day dream. And I write. I put my seat to the seat, and I write.

Actually, I can't not write. And I know my friend is the same way. She's been writing most of her life: magnificent stories, delicious poems, and humorous letters. She wants very badly to be published and occasionally submits. She may lack a regular writing schedule. She may have a tendency to write mainly when inspired. But, she's a writer.

Another friend said to me, "What if you spend a year on a novel and then it doesn't get published?  That's all that time wasted. How do you justify the time?"

To that, I say: That year will go by anyway. At the end, I will have had the experience of writing a novel, or not.

Seriously.



 

Don't Wait For It To Be Good

 







  Okay, so you're a writer and your seat is on the seat and you're ready to begin.  Next comes the easy/hard part: get it down and don't wait for it to be good.
  I say this is easy because it means you let the writing flow.  You don't stop to correct punctuation errors or re-attach dangling participles or edit an over abundance of adjectives.  You don't worry about writing perfectly or keeping to a pre-conceived plot plan.  You don't hesitate because you're not sure what your story is about or where it's going. You don't backtrack because an unexpected character or happening shows up.  You don't allow the English teacher or critic in your head to participate. You just let go and see where the act of writing takes you.  You explore without judgement.  You open yourself to discovery.
  I say this is hard because, of course you want to write well.  Of course you want this to be good.  Perfect, in fact.  You don't want to be wasting your precious writing time on something you'll only cross out or delete.  You've been schooled to write with precision and clarity.  You've been trained to honor the rules and to punctuate properly.  You've been taught to get it right, not get it down. Or rather, to get it down only when and if it's right -- all presentable and respectable and logical. Thus, you've been hobbled from the outset.
  I'm here to remind your hesitant self that re-writing comes later.  This is first draft time.  Rough draft time.  Rough is the operative word here -- the free-you-up-so-you-can-get-it-down word.  "Oh, yeah," you can say to yourself, "This is supposed to be rough.  I'll fix it later.  Fixing's another part of the process." 
  Process.  Great word, process.  A sweet word.  It's a word that reminds us to breathe and allows us to play.
  Anne Lamott, author of bird by bird, talks about "shitty first drafts" and assures us that "all good writers write them." She calls the first draft, "... the child's draft, where you let it all pour out and then let it romp all over the place, knowing that no one is going to see it and that you can shape it later."
  So for now, with the seat of your pants to the seat of the chair, get it down.  Don't wait for it to be good.

 --  What's stopping you from getting it down on the page?  Share by commenting below.  --

Time to Dream

 

  ‘Tis the season of gifting.  ‘Tis a time for wish listing.  You’re surely planning, buying, and stashing gifts for those you love (and even some you don’t but who have made it onto your list as the “shoulds” of the season).  You’re surely asking what everybody else wants and needs.

  Well, I suggest ‘tis time to ask yourself a question or two: As a writer, artist, and dreamer, what do you really, really, in your heart of hearts want?  If you had world enough and time, what would be at the top of your wish list?

  And don’t forget, ‘tis the time for dreaming big. 

  Do you dream of being a published author complete with a great editor, publisher, agent, adoring fans, book tours, and guest speaking engagements  … ?

  Would you love a comfortable place in which to write, make art, and dream?  Do you want a space filled with colors and textures and images that nourish you?  Or would you prefer the simplicity of a monk's cell?  Do you want silence, music, nature sounds … ?  Who or what do you welcome into your space?  Is there a desk or floor cushions or a comfy chair?  Is there lots of natural light?  Soft candle glow? Fabrics?  Art? A sense of breathing space?

  Is it a room, snug cubby, or spacious cottage by the ocean?  Is it a cabin in the depths of an ancient forest or a simple little shed in the backyard that’s all yours for solitary hours of work which is really play?

  What books would line your book shelves or are you more the piles-of-books-all-around-you type?  Are there poems that move and inspire you?  Is there a certain kind of notebook you prefer or pen that feels best in your hand?  A new or well used laptop or tablet?

  Do you dream of being a part of a writing community?  Do you wish you could go away on retreat for a few months or weeks or days?  What would that look and feel like?

  Well, why not have what you want?  Why not create it in your mind if not in your physical environs?  Catalogues and flyers abound right now.  Why not take advantage of this abundance of imagery.  Since you’re in a looking-around-at-it-all mode anyway while shopping for others, why not gather some of those images for yourself as collage material?

   "What kind of collage?" you might ask.  "And who has the time?  ‘Tis the season of giving.  Can’t you see I’m busy trying to give here?!"

  Since you're looking anyway, when you see something that stops you with an “ah!” …  just because …   why not  tear it out and toss it in a basket or box or bright gift bag?  No need to be neat about it, to get out the scissors or anything.  Just rip the photo out and add it to your collection.  No need to concern yourself with price or practicality, this is about letting go and having fun.  This is about wishing and dreaming and playing with possibility.    This is about focusing on what gives you a lift, brings a smile, satisfies a deep inner longing, brings you peace, and/or enlivens you.  Maybe it’s a color that speaks to you, or a word or phrase or book title that calls out to you.  Maybe a favorite quotation surfaces.  Whatever wants to be clipped and saved, place it in your basket.  Don’t question it.  Don’t analyze it.  Just accept it.

  Then, gather glue sticks, scissors and something on which to mount your images (poster board, card board, wrapping paper, craft paper, an empty box, etc.) and place these materials and the basket of clippings together. That’s all for now.

  When the moment seems right, begin creating a collage (from the French word “to glue”).  Maybe even light a candle and put on some meditative music.  Or maybe not ... .

  As the images pass through your fingers let yourself drift into a dreamy sort of state and begin to glue them down. They can overlap, or even cover each other completely (you’ll know what lies beneath when it’s all done), or they can be carefully trimmed and neatly arranged side by side or in geometric patterns.  ‘Tis totally up to you.  What matters is the process of playing and pasting and wishing and dreaming.

  This can be done in a single sitting or over time in stolen moments (like working a jig saw puzzle).  When your collage is complete, put it where you’ll see it often or tuck it away in a special but accessible place. You could even spend some time meditating upon it, or free-writing about it.  Perhaps, you will be drawn to create a personal ritual.  Maybe you'll surprise yourself and decide to bury or burn it (there is a Native American belief that smoke is visual prayer). Go with whatever wants to be done.  Simply listen and you'll know.  ‘Tis the season for dreaming.  ‘Tis the season for sleigh bells on the wind.     

  If nothing else, you'll feel relaxed.  More likely, your creative self will feel nurtured and inspired.  Beyond that, who knows, maybe "the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true"  ...  ?



  What's on your wish list?  What dreams of yours are waiting in the dark to be spoken of out loud? What will your collage reveal to you?  If you take the time ...




















 

Time To Retreat?

   Ahhhhhhhhh.  I just had to do that.  I just had to take that moment to savor and sigh. I just returned from a writers' retreat by the ocean. 
   I feel rested.  I feel reflective.  I feel restored.  I feel like writing.
   I can't say enough about the benefits of retreats and workshops and this particular one included both.  Offered by Anne Hollingworth of "Mermaid Retreats" in Maine, it featured an afternoon workshop with Rebecca Rule and lots of space and time to write.
   My intention for this blog post was another subject entirely.  But, the fruits of this weekend's deliciousness just had to be shared.
   I had a friend who always bristled when I suggested a writing workshop or retreat.  She would say, "I already know how to write.  Why would I waste time and money being told how to write?"  To me that's a sad example of closing yourself off to possibility and to community.  The workshops and retreats I've attended have never tried to tell me how to write.  But I've always come away writing.
   Workshops, whether day-long or offered in a series, can be invaluable as motivators and energizers.  Before I left for the weekend retreat, I spent the morning at a poetry workshop (the first in a monthly series) with Kimberly Cloutier-Green.  I came away enriched and enlivened and ready to call myself "Poet."  Attending a poetry workshop was way outside my comfort zone and that's why I went.  I highly recommend such pushing of the boundaries that can limit us as writers and creatives.
   Offerings abound.  You'll find some right in your own backyard.  Prices vary and there are even retreats that are free for qualified retreatants.      
   Of course, I suggest doing a little homework in advance, especially when it comes to retreats.  Consider the recommendations of people or organizations you know or respect.  Read participant comments/reviews.  Ask questions.  What's the facilitator/teacher's philosophy?  Is it compatible with yours?  Because sharing our work or testing out our voice can be a fragile business, a responsible facilitator will create an atmosphere of safety conducive to mutual trust.     
   Meditate on the rightness of it for you.  Trust your instincts.  Then go for it!

  Do you have a great workshop/retreat experience to share?  Or a question?    Please leave your comments or join me on facebook.

Seat to the Seat ...

[NOTE:  This is not meant just for writers but for all "creatives."  You know who you are.]

  In my last post, I offered suggestions for making writing a priority in your life.  Second on that list was:  "Adopt the mantra: seat of the pants to the seat of the chair."  I ask you now, "Have you?"  Have you begun to chant or at least think about this phrase?  Have you applied it to your writing (creative) life?  Have you put the seat of your pants to the seat of your chair?
  I would guess that your seat is on the seat right now as you read this.  So, I take this opportunity to suggest that you remain seated and write (create).  NOW.
  In order to be read or, dream of all dreams, be published, you have to first write something. You have to have something for your readers to read and your publisher to print.  Right? So, stop talking about the book or story or poem that's in you. And, by all means, stop talking about how you don't have the time to write it.  Stop putting it off until that elusive "someday" when all conditions will be in alignment. Just put your butt to the chair and write something, ... anything. Even if it's only a sentence.  Even if it's only a phrase, an image, a fragment, or a whisp.  Even if it's only a word.  Write it down. 
  And come back tomorrow and sit again.  Write again.  No excuses.  No judgements.  No kidding. It's what writers do.
  Remember my first suggestion? ...  Say outloud, "I am a writer.  Therefore, I write."  The question is, "Are you?"   And if so, "Do you?"