Journal ~ Dandelions

It's ironic that I'm reading more since I've been taking classes to complete the A.A. in accounting. Better late, than never. Now that our living situation is different, after work I go to the library almost everyday to study. Usually I only take one class per quarter because it's all that I have the energy or focus for; however, I'm getting close and have decided that I will take two courses next quarter begins. Summer session is almost done and I finally get a small break before the Fall quarter. At this point, I feel like I'm doing this A.A. degree more for myself than anything. I'm viewing it as a small attempt to provide a cushion if I should find myself somewhere else, and it's also a challenge that I can afford to take-and must take.

I remember blowing on dandelions when I was a kid; I don't remember thinking of them as clocks. Today, my daily calendar has a close up photo of a bunch of dandelions with the caption, "Dandelion clocks await a child's puff of breath." Today this is really special to me because, amongst other books and audios, I'm listening to Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 and Bradbury Stories: 100 of His Most Celebrated Tales. I'm also wanting to revisit The Illustrated Man.

When I see the dandelions this morning, I see Ray Bradbury. I see Clarisse holding the dandelion up to Montag's chin. And I remember that when I was in a writer's group for a very brief moment, one of the writers told me that I should read Dandelion Wine after having read one of my snippets.

I don't have a strong tie to my own childhood and the dandelion, but after returning to Bradbury, and the dandelion that turns up in his other stories, I feel a real resonance and connection to him. So now when I see dandelions, I see him and I'm reminded of childhood-the childhood that I know he speaks about but haven't yet read in Dandelion Wine. I think of what a remarkable person that I imagine he was, and of course, a great writer and storyteller. I appreciate how open he is about sharing where the seeds of his stories began.

I knew that if I didn't come to the page, in this moment, that this moment would fly away just as the seeds of a dandelion, and that sometimes you just have to stop what you're doing and GO. To be in the moment, lest it fly away, blow into the wind.

(Originally posted today at my wordpress journal blog)

Writing and Books: Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner

On Sunday I had a patch of time to myself, about an hour and a half before hubby returned from his errand, and we went out and about together. I could have studied, could have read, cleaned. Instead, I felt a pull to the garage to organize boxes of books. There were many empty boxes that were scattered, that made it look as though there was more clutter than there actually was. 

I started breaking down the empty boxes, then I began looking through the boxes of books, tying again to find more books to let go of. I was able to find two small boxes full of books that I felt it was time to part with, books that I knew I wasn't going to read, that had a time and place in my life, and I would only keep transporting them from home to home, possibly not giving them a proper home for themselves, confining my dear books to these lifeless boxes. It was time for these books to find new homes. 

I was also able to consolidate some books to other boxes, marking them so that I would easily be able to find what I was looking for if the urge arose. Also, to hubby's dismay, because I would only be brining more clutter into the house, I brought two boxes of books inside. I put them in the living room and waiting for him to scold me. I told him I would find a place for them. The living room was off limits. I know how I can be, so the next morning I unpacked the boxes, stacked the books on my side of the bed to deal with later that day. I don't have any more shelf space, so I added to the stack in the corner on top of the small desk that I don't' actually use, and the rest are stacked in front of that stack. I really didn't bring all that many books back into the house. I don't like packing the boxes too heavy. In fact, I've let go of a lot of books. It's bitter sweet; at the same time it feels good to let go of these books that have been there for me, that have brought me joy–even the books that I never got around to reading all the way through. Now, they can bring someone else happiness when they're browsing the shelves of the local thrift store.  

Each time I'm ready, I will continue looking through my boxes of books, tying to let go of more. Eventually, I will be left with only a few that I cannot part with–at least, not until I'm ready.

Yesterday before work, I went to the top section of a long shelf that shares books with clothes. It's where I keep some of my inspirational writing books. I pulled from the shelf: One Continuous Mistake: Four Noble Truths for Writers by Gail Sher. Then I went to the bottom section of the shelf where I keep the few books I have on poetry. I pulled Mary Oliver's New and Selected Poems: Volume One. With these in hand, I read a few pages from each to start my day. I love how Gail Sher describes writing. She says, "Writing is infinite, ever elusive, and ungraspable. We can never know what writing is. We can only know our experience minute to minute, as we write" (pg. 6). I nodded my head with a big smile as I read over her words again. She sums it up perfectly, and that's one of the many reasons I love writing for the constant discovery that writing offers, as long as we keep our pens moving and our minds free.

I've only dipped sparingly into Mary Oliver's poetry. I've had her book for several years, but as with certain books, I go at them at different paces. I'm ready to visit longer. What little of her poetry I have read, it is so incredibly beautiful and touches my soul.

During a break at work I wrote and posted "Small Slice of Solace." 

Writing and books are often on my mind throughout the day, sometimes they slip away, but yesterday, it seemed there was a constant stream.

After work, I was ready to visit Barnes & Noble and use my gift card that I've been hanging on to for the right moment. I was pretty confident that I would be walking out of there with a cookbook, but I didn't even feel pulled to that section. I almost purchased a small light that is supposed to create calm. Where I really wanted to go was to the writing section. There's just something about writing books that I adore. I love hearing inspirational stories and words of wisdom from writing books. I wasn't looking for any one book. I sat on the floor and started looking through the possibilities. I saw a book that I had checked out of the library that I never finished  before returning it: Several Short Sentences about Writing by Verlyn Klinkenborg. I remember it being a fun book with a unique approach and it really is as the title suggests. Next I saw a book that I hadn't seen before or maybe I had and wasn't interested at the time: Around the Writer's Block: Using Brain Science to Solve Writer's Resistance*

*Including Writer's Block, Procrastination, Paralysis, Perfectionism, Postponing, Distractions, Self-Sabotage, Excessive Criticism, Overscheduling, and Endlessly Delaying Your Writing

by Rosanne Bane.

Now how could I resist a title like that!

I think I'm really going to like this one. I've only just begun and I feel ignited.

And so, these were the two books that I chose.

Yesterday was a full course of reading, writing, books, and nature. I felt refreshed, inspired, rejuvenated.  

Visiting with Goldberg, Kindle Unlimited, and a Few Books

I'm being drawn back to Natalie Goldberg's books on writing. It's like visiting with an old friend. Uplifting and inspiring. 

Yesterday was a good day. I felt that I had a lot of energy and I was especially chatty at work and had so much spinning around in my mind. I kept going back to my co-worker's office to let him know just one more thing...usually it pertained to work in some roundabout way. From our last team meeting, we learned through a sharing that our boss used to eat up Ian Fleming's books when he was in fifth grade. He was devouring them so quickly and steadily that his mother became concerned and asked the teacher to see if she could get her son to add something else to his reading mix. I've only seen the movies, but now I'm curious to read something, anything by Ian Fleming, so through Kindle Unlimited, which I've given a try for 30 days, I'm going begin reading one of his books. The book I chose is Thrilling Cities, which is a travelogue covering 13 cities that he visited between 1959-1960. It began as a series or articles and then turned into a book.

Kindle Unlimited. $9.99 each month. 10 books at a time. First time users get a 30 day free trial to read or peek through 10 books at a time. The Kindle Unlimited library is supposed to have over 500,000 books to choose from. I like going page by page and I couldn't possibly keep clicking through that many pages, so I clicked as far as I could, noticing that many of the titles are parts of series and romance novels, neither of which I like reading. I also don't particularly enjoy mysteries, unless books are involved. 

The interesting thing is that most of the books that I would want to read are also available as e-books in the public library system. My problem is that I get impatient waiting for popular or new titles that have long waiting lists. What made me finally decide to give Kindle Unlimited a try was that they had The Storied Life of A. J. Fickry available. I had been waiting to check it out from the library for weeks. I had nothing to lose. 30 days for free and I would get to finally read this book. I downloaded it and finished it in a couple of days. It turned out to be such a satisfying read. I must admit that after a particular scene, I wasn't sure if I was believing it, but I kept going and went with it. I'm so glad I did. It was really a heartwarming book about love, life, second chances, and of course the power of story and books.

One great thing about Kindle Unlimited for me is that it has gotten me to read a couple of books that I might not have. I had been curious about Water for Elephants when it came out, but I didn't have it high on my radar. Scanning through the popular titles on KU, I saw it there and gave it a try, all the while in my head I'm thinking it's free. 30 days. See what you can find. I had vaguely recalled reading the first few pages some time ago and felt pulled in, but not ready to commit. When I started reading it this time, I was in for a great surprise. I had no idea that I would enjoy the book as much as I did. The storytelling, the characters, the tension. The circus completely came alive for me and the interesting historical background and tidbits rounded out the story. I felt that I wanted to be there, but I didn't need to go, because through this book, I was there. 

I also read Without Reservations by Anthony Bourdain. I didn't plan on ever reading his book because, although I enjoyed his culinary adventures on the travel channel, I didn't know if I could handle his cockiness on the page. I loved it. It was yet another glimpse into the the world of being a chef and he laid it all out there. I have begun reading his follow up that he wrote 10 years after this one: Medium Raw: A Bloody Valentine to the World of Food and the People who Cook.

And because of his book, it led me to George Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London. And it's available as part of Kindle Unlimited! 

I have several other Kindle Unlimited books that I'm dipping in and out of. Each time I find another title, if I already have 10, I have to return one. 

My 30-day free trial has expired and for now I've decided to pay the $9.99 because I have 10 books downloaded and I like the ease of being able to read them without worrying about a time limit, and also because I don't necessarily want to own the e-books. At some point, I'll cancel my subscription. For now, I'm enjoying the convenience, and hope to find a less cumbersome way of exploring the library.

And of course, a few of Natalie Goldberg's books are part of the Unlimited library, so instead of fishing my books out of the boxes in my garage, they are part of my 10.

Love this quote from an accounting e-newsletter:

"I have become my own version of an optimist. If I can't make it through one door, I'll go through another door, or I'll make a door. Something terrific will come no matter how dark the present."

--Rabindranath Tagore, Indian writer

**

One never knows where they will find gems. : )

Fog Bridge

Lost in the trail of my thoughts, in the center of the fog, walking freely and openly into the mist, taking it all in, being right in the middle of a beautiful, bright nothingness where everything makes sense and doesn't make sense; with one hand extended, as though I'm going to crash into a wall, I keep walking through the fog across the bridge, unable to get enough of this sensation of being enveloped in the thickness, soaking in every moment of this inability to see anything but white space and shadows and laughter and rainbows; the mist enters my parted lips. I'm on a tightrope that has no end, no beginning; where I can't fall and I am in utter bliss...

As the fog tiptoes back to where it came from, everything is in full view. Everything glistens and it feels as if I'm viewing the skyline, the buildings, the people–everything–for the first time. It's there, then it's not; then it's there again–the vision heightened by it's disappearance. 

**

Inspired by Fujiko Nakaya's Fog Bridge at the Exploratorium in San Francisco

This Morning

"Every blade of grass has an angel that bends over it and whispers, 'Grow, grow.'"
–The Talmud

This morning I'm in a quiet space.
I woke early,
soaked in the darkness of the early hour–
listened to the morning
hum itself into lightness.

I've been carrying this Talmud quote around in my mind lately. It makes me smile when I think of it and all the angels out there bending over each and every one of us. I came across the quote on a greeting card many years ago. I bought the greeting card and posted it to my bulletin board of inspiration; it's become a part of me.

This morning, I sit and find myself within the white space of the canvas...both literally and figuratively. I used markers to draw on the small canvas you see here. When I started coloring it in a week ago, I was certain that I would color every inch of space. Over the past few days, I've stared at this simple, but colorful series of lines and strokes and something inside of me says, I need that white space to stay. It's not meant to be all colored in. Sometimes, we need that white space amongst all the noise.

Books, a Quote, and the Moon

"Be yourself, everyone else is taken."
–Oscar Wilde

Yesterday was a long work day, but it was a productive day. Busy season is upon us and I have a feeling that this year is going to feel more crammed than the last.

Energy zipped through me last night. I went to bed a little after midnight, which isn't the norm for me. Then I woke up for some reason at around 4:30 a.m. Whenever I wake at these early morning hours, I take the opportunity to put my glasses on and peer out the window at the moon.

Last night the picture outside my window was a half moon surrounded by stars as billowy clouds streamed by. All I could think of was that this was the image of a soothing lullaby. I stayed there propped up at the windowsill for a few moments taking in the moment, then I tucked back into bed and went back to sleep.

I've tried to stop buying books. This Sunday, though, I browsed the bookshelves of a second hand store wondering what I'd find. I've purposely avoided this section on recent visits, but on Sunday I splurged. I allowed myself to look a little longer and found a handful of books to buy and here they are:

-Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia by Elizabeth Gilbert.

I saw the movie a year or so ago and decided then that I'd like to try the book. I usually wait until the hype goes down for certain things. A month back I tried a Kindle sample and I knew it would be a book that I wanted to read, just not on Kindle.

-All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten: Uncommon Thoughts on Common Things by Robert Fulghum. I'm surprised I don't own a copy or that I haven't read it yet. I did read his collection of writings by other authors that inspired him called Words I Wish I Wrote. I enjoyed this one a lot.

-Kitchen Table Wisdom: Stories that Heal by Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D. I have a vague recollection of seeing this book around. Flipping through it, I knew it would be a gem to add to my shelves.

-Plato and a Platypus Walk into a Bar: Understanding Philosophy through Jokes by Thomas Cathcart and Daniel Klein. I always wanted to pick this book up when I heard about it, but then I forgot about it; I must not have wanted it that bad. When I saw it this time, I knew I had to get it. I flipped open to a random page and was immediately laughing. Laughter and philosophy–what a great combination!

-Ed Emberley's Great Thumbprint Drawing Book. Well, I've seen this cute children's drawing book somewhere, maybe a library. I had to have it. The thumbprint drawings are adorable and it takes you step by step. It speaks to the kid and little artist in me.

-The Touchstone by Edith Wharton. I've never read any of her novels. This is a short one. The descriptions on the back intrigued me, so I had to get it.

I felt like it was my lucky book day, finding so many gems.

I also had some books waiting for me at the library, mostly children's picture books, and one book related to astrology and the moon. I don't think I'll have time to read all of the moon book, but I'm hoping I have time to sit with it for a little while.

The highlight of my Sunday, besides the books, was browsing in a combination vintage art shop this weekend where I saw a canvas that someone had painted the Oscar Wilde quote in white block letters. Well, my significant other actually saw it first and pointed it out to me because he knew I'd like it. I did; I decided to do a similar one using the Doodle Buddy App, so that's today's picture.

Love those words: "Be Yourself..." Yes!

Happy writing and creating & happy Tuesday!

Happy Girl

I’ve been having so much fun this early morning before the workday begins. I read a few Children’s picture books that I will post to my blog in the coming days.

My desire to draw has cropped up over the past several weeks and I’ve doodled a few abstract finger drawings to accompany a few of my blogs. Yesterday I was looking through one of the books I checked out at the library called Drawing Lab for Mixed-Media Artists: 52 Creative Exercises to Make Drawing Fun by Carla Sonheim. And while I was flipping through the book, I decided to try drawing one of the simpler drawings onto my Doodle Buddy App and the result is the image you see for today’s blog. It looks very similar to the original, except I didn’t color in the background and my girl actually looks happy, whereas in the original the girl looks either surprised or scared. I was thrilled at my end result. A move toward art is refreshing and a long time coming.

I also checked out another astrology book from the library and have several others in route. How I love libraries! The book is called Creative Stars: Using Astrology to Tap Your Muse by Trish MacGregor. With a title like that, how could I resist? I planned to start reading it this morning, but I got involved with other books and, one book led to another search, which led me back to the online library catalog, and that led to putting more books on hold. It’s endless.

And before I actually get to my job, I’m planning on stopping in at the library and picking up a few books that I know are on the shelves. I’m so excited. I love nothing more than being inside a library—and inside books.

I thought that today’s happy girl picture fit in with today’s energy. I thank the author of the Drawing Lab book for the inspiration. I can’t wait to begin more doodles and get back to drawing—incorporating it into my life—and learning more.

I hope that you have a wonderful day and a pleasant weekend in whichever way suits your fancy

Rebb

MasterChef ~ Christine Ha: Cooking, not by Sight, but from Memory and a Strong Palette

Two cooking shows that I’m watching this season are Hell’s Kitchen and MasterChef. Soon each show will be crowing the winners.

This is the first season for MasterChef to have a legally blind contestant, home chef, Christine Ha. It has been a treat to watch her cook. She has a guide to help her around the kitchen and pantry and she may occasionally ask the guide if her plate looks all right. That’s where it stops. She does all the preparation and cooking; her sense of memory, smell, and taste are her most important allies throughout this competition.

During one team challenge, an outside barbeque, Christine was put in charge of grilling corn. The corn skins caught fire and she wasn’t aware until someone shouted, “Fire!” A team member came to the rescue and all was under control after that. Even with that mishap, she bounced back and the team managed to produce a winning meal that was victorious over the other team.

An episode where she won the individual challenge to replicate a dish that chef Graham Elliot had prepared was one of my favorites. It was a sashimi dish that was beautiful in presentation. She nailed it. She outdid her competitors in knife skills, presentation, and taste. Simply impressive.

On last night’s episode, what stood out to me was when chef Ramsey asked the guest judges if they were surprised to see that Christine was blind. One of the chefs replied that in the kitchen he tells his chefs to, “practice in the kitchen until you can do it with your eyes closed.”

This is a small clip from a past episode showing an emotional Christine as she receives feedback and encouragement from chef Ramsay.

Christine’s Apple Pie on MasterChef
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIGXboHpge0

Christine is truly an inspiration. In a TVGuide interview I learned that she studied to be a fiction writer. Perhaps she will work on a book one day and publish it!

“Make Good Art” – Discovering Neil Gaiman

A few months back, I found myself browsing through the shelves of science fiction/fantasy at Barnes & Noble. I was in search of a compilation of stories. I wasn’t finding anything and then a clean white spine stood out to me: Stories: All-New Tales Edited by Neil Gaiman and Al Sarrantonio. I didn’t recognize either name, but I was sold by the small description on the back cover. I don’t usually spend time in this section of the bookshelves and that’s exactly why I was here. I began reading the book at my leisure and I’ve kept this book up on the bedroom windowsill with a few stacks of other books that I sift through on a regular basis. Some receive more attention than others. I had set this book aside for some time, but it was still in sight.

While reading through introductions of other classmates at the online course website, I saw Neil Gaiman’s name listed as a favorite of another student; it may have come up a few times. It didn’t register 100 percent, not until I was gazing at the spines of my books on the windowsill the other morning. That’s when I honed in on the name Gaiman and it's then that I remembered. I took the book from the shelf and sifted to the stories in the book. Ah, his story was one that I had found magical.

Yesterday I went on Google to learn more about Neil Gaiman and his editing partner, Al Sarrantonio. I then recognized that I had actually downloaded a few Kindle books by Al Sarrantonio month’s ago. I hadn’t realized that Neil Gaiman wrote the young adult book, Coraline, which was made into a movie that I haven’t yet seen that I’m now eager to read and watch. I am also interested in reading more of Gaiman’s short stories and am happy to see that the library has a few collections, as well as his other full-length fiction.

While searching around, that is when I came across this video where Gaiman addresses future artists. It’s inspiring, and I find Neil Gaiman to be quite charming.

I love moments of discovery like this, when something wonderful is right under your nose, when you knew you were being pulled, but you didn’t realize it at the time and didn’t know it would only get better.

Enjoy!

Neil Gaiman Addresses the University of the Arts Class of 201
http://vimeo.com/42372767

Art & Inspiration

Water

Water is as steady as thoughts
as unstable as a child’s first steps
as old as time as fresh as life
as mysterious as dreams

—Amanda Ditmore, age 9
   Berkeley, California


Every year River of Words sponsors a free international art and poetry contest for young artists between the ages of 5 and 19. There is still time for your young artists to submit through December. You can read all about the contest rules at the link below.

I visited St. Mary’s College for the last day of the River of Words exhibit. When I learned of it through the library, I went to the college website and was drawn into the watercolor image of the fish displayed on the museum web page.

Looking at the artwork on the walls and reading the poems that were interspersed between the artwork was invigorating. No two artworks were alike, each representing the young human's view, each a profound statement.

I walked slowly through the exhibit, taking in each piece. I have always been inspired by children’s art and poetry because there is a fresh, spontaneous element, and also in many cases a refined quality beyond my beliefs.

You can click on the first link below to the view the 2012 winners and finalists. From this page, you can also view the poetry. I hope you enjoy the images.

River of Words 2012 Art Gallery
http://www.stmarys-ca.edu/node/14690/

Read more about River of Words here
http://www.stmarys-ca.edu/center-for-environmental-literacy/river-of-words

River of Words Website
http://www.riverofwords.org/contest.html

MOOn Moment ~ HOwl Talk

Today the muse is Keiko Amano, her blogs and our exchanges. It came to me at work in a moment. It felt playful and fun. I quickly took a pencil and scribbled quickly on a post-it note in pencil and slipped it into my satchel.

**

All this talk about Howl

       SOund of Haru

Is making the mOOn

       Achoo

Moon dust everywhere.

       Aroo, Owwooo,

Ow, ow, ow, Aroo.

       MOOn.

Process ~ Introverted Saturday, Coffee, Books

Yesterday was a wonderfully introverted day. I woke and wrote my “morning pages,” made a cup of coffee and settled into reading blogs, and then I knew it would be a pure reading day. A day off from school work, which I too am enjoying, but it was nice to take a break.

I visited with a friend the previous day and we’re both reading Haruki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. He had mentioned a week prior that he started to read it and was really enjoying it. I told him that I had read a few of Murakami’s short story’s and had wanted to read one of his novels, but hadn’t gotten around to it. Talking about it with him, I got exited, and I wasn’t already committed to any one book, so I checked it out from the library. When we met yesterday for coffee, I was only 67 pages into it and he was already at page 200, so I was able to give my impressions so far and we talked only up to the point I had read. It’s an interesting story, with many strange coincidences. I wish that I knew how it read in the original Japanese because I’m imagining that there are some additional nuances that probably don’t translate over. It’s just a hunch. Nevertheless, I am enjoying the ride—and it does feel very much like an adventure with many messages embedded within the connecting story’s.

I made more progress yesterday on The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, but I found that I needed a break from the story. I decided to revisit a book called, Books that Changed the World. Because of a conversation I had, I decided to read the chapter on Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams. And then I pulled out the slender, A Primer of Freudian Psychology. I was specifically interested in re-reading about the Ego and how it works together with the Id and the Superego. I feel that the term Ego is often taken out of its original context and is often used to point out the negative aspect of our personalities. It’s true that if the Id, Ego, and Superego are not working in harmony, things can grow out of control, but on the whole I feel the concept of Ego is misused. That’s just my opinion and I’ve thought of exploring this separately with examples.

I suppose my mind was taking advantage of having a day of choices. I peeked into a couple other books: Ten Theories of Human Nature. I immediately went to the section on Plato and randomly read a few paragraphs on his theory of forms, which I have always found fascinating. I enjoy the process of taking small bits and digesting them, inviting them into my consciousness to see how they will meet with other writings I enjoy, or even with how I go about my days. Some things I can only take in small doses. Next I took a look at The Inner West: An Introduction to the Hidden Wisdom of the West. I jumped to certain parts and began reading. I jumped around, got lured into a few, but never stayed too long in any one part.

Was it the combination of this conversation over coffee and reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, that had me begin pulling these different books out? The last one I pulled and decided to read where I left off months ago, was a novel by Jostein Gaarder called The Solitaire Mystery. It seemed in my mind to go along with the good strangeness of Murakami’s novel. I learned that there is a Japanese word for this called “Myo.” I first learned about this word in Lydia Minatoya’s novel, The Strangeness of Beauty. There is a passage in her novel where she describes this word, “myo”, as “The art of creating ‘strange beauty.’” I began this one in July, but I have the bookmark in it, ready to come back to it. It is a novel to be absorbed and one that I want to savor.

When my friend and I were talking about literature, I was ashamed to say that I have not read any Steinbeck. He was required reading in high school, but I didn’t enjoy high school, and literature and reading hadn’t yet entered my life in a significant way. It was not something I had any interest in. When I did start reading, it seized me, but I chose to read what I wanted and for some reason I had it in my mind that I would read European writers because I felt they would have a depth to them that matched what I was capable of feeling inside. Even if I could not relate to the specific experiences, I would be able to connect to the feelings of loneliness, isolation, and whatever deep dark feelings these characters experienced. I bypassed many American writers until I began taking more English courses. As the years have gone on, I have picked up books with the intention of hopefully one day actually reading them. I liked having them, so if a flash came, I could go to the shelves and get what I wanted. And so yesterday, I knew I had picked up a Steinbeck book, but I couldn’t remember which one. I went to the shelf and found The Pearl. Because I was on a reading buzz yesterday, I took it to my reading spot, and began reading. It’s a slim book of only 118 pages. I was immediately hooked with the writing, the characters, the story. And a bonus for me was that it took place in the fishing village of Nayarit, Mexico, where my grandmother was born. It softened my heart immediately and made me want to read the story that much more. I didn’t want to finish it in one setting, so I set it aside, knowing that some time today or tomorrow I would finish it. It’s a sad story really. The subject manner is indeed timeless, relevant. If I were an English teacher, this would be a novel I’d like to teach. It may not seem to have a whole lot going on, but I feel that what it does offer is something that we should never lose sight of, and I will leave it at that.

This morning, I continued on with Murakami’s novel and it’s getting more interesting with each chapter. I then went to my shelf again and scanned it. Another shame: I’ve never read any Jack London! So, I pulled The Call of the Wild and Selected Stories and decided I would try to read a little from it today. Since he was born in San Francisco, near enough to the area where I live, I feel that I should become acquainted with him. I don’t like the word should, but in this case it feels appropriate. Not only that, as a person that loves nature and animals, I think I will appreciate his writing very much.

And so, tomorrow, I won’t have as much leisure time when I go back to work and the school week begins again. It sure does make one appreciate spending a day immersed in all sorts of books. I didn’t leave the house all day yesterday. I almost did because I wanted fresh tamales from the market. I resisted though—didn’t want to break my flow. I was able to find things to eat, even though I need to go grocery shopping. That could have posed a real problem.

Today, though, I will venture out and breathe in the fresh air and enjoy the after effects of visiting so many worlds yesterday.

River of Peace

Two swords cross
through the center of
a lotus blossom
Four cranes, paper pinwheels
Moon in Libra
Soft green light flows
the color of peacock feathers
mixed with white, fading up
into soft yellow sunshine

Two angels suspended from the edges
of the sword’s handles.
Two smaller swords,
one at top, one at bottom,
both pointing upward. At the tip
of the top, the moon sits—a sliver.
At bottom, the scales of Libra,
a perfect union. Peace.

**

Inspired from today’s Tarot card: 2 Swords: Peace. I looked deeply at the image, closed my eyes, breathed deeply, opened my eyes, and described how I visually see the card.

Ode to Teachers: The Traditional, non-traditional, and everyone in between

When did I learn to fly?

They say that, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” I know that’s not true. These words ring in my ears. The words sting, bur into the soul, seep the life out of you. Yes, the words hurt. However, the words can also be turned into kindling, spark a light—to say in turn, “Your words are not true!” No, I am not stupid, Mrs. H. Just because I’m quiet, just because my classmate whom I’m partnered with also doesn’t understand this grammar crap, does not mean we are stupid. Shame on you, Mrs. H, to look me in the eyes, and with the coldest tone ask, “What…are you stupid?” But of course, this is high school—what seems now eons ago. I had other concerns, inner turmoil, and was too timid to stick up for myself.

It didn’t get much better. It was a long slow process. My first junior college course was a disaster. I remember you well, Mrs. M. When we met to discuss my paper during class and you said with a nonchalant air, “I don’t know…This essay—It sounds like you were on something.” I look at you in shock. Am I hearing you right? True that I didn’t follow the assignment exactly. I was exploring myself. I was writing about my experience, my feelings, inspired by my explorations of the Eastern traditions. “Ah…,”you say, “now I understand. My sister’s into that and I can never understand her letters to me. But this is really off topic, and it’s all over the place. It’s a “D” but I gave you a “C.” I suggest you drop the class.

Why didn’t I quit? No one really encouraged me. I don’t know exactly, but I didn’t give up. There were more discouraging words at different times, but I kept on. I knew it wasn’t all their fault. I knew I wasn’t up to par. Grammar was still a chore and I wasn’t writing complete or organized thoughts. I kept enrolling in English courses and studying on my own, determined to succeed. And at the same time, I dropped many courses when I couldn’t handle the anxiety of speaking in class. It made the road that much longer. But I have no regrets.

When I first felt like I was flying, it was in Mr. Gustavson’s English writing development course for folks like me who still needed help with writing college level papers. We kept journals. “Write everything, don’t hold back,” he told us. I wrote every bloody thing down, but this time, I wrote about my days, about the mundane. I didn’t hold back. I surprised myself. I remember one day he was standing up in front of the class reading examples anonymously. I was listening intently and then I heard familiar musings. He’s reading my journal. I felt the heat rise on my face. I was startled to hear my words flow out of his mouth and when he finished he said, “Now does it sound like she’s having trouble getting her words out?” I can’t even describe how good it made me feel to hear myself up there through him, to actually hear something positive instead of the usual unconstructive criticism. It was a small moment and one that I cherish. It felt like I was getting there.

And then I continued flying in Mr. Hurley’s Freshman English class. Looking back, He was one of the biggest inspirations on my road—for the love of language, writing, reading. He was a kind teacher, very passionate about teaching itself and passionate about the students. In addition to the comments he made on our papers, he would attach a little grid of the different elements of the essay and he would put a check mark next to where our writing fell in that grid, and if need be, he’d add a few more comments. I loved this. I could really see where I needed to focus my attention. I was still on my way, making the small climb. I got a “C” in his class, but more important, I felt like I was in a constructive and supportive environment. I even had to interview someone for one of my papers, which was very scary for me at the time. During an exercise where Mr. Hurley had us pick a few quotes that really stood out for us to discuss. This is one from Susan Faludi that has remained with me: “My barracuda blurbs belie my timorous demeanor.” The cadence and potency of these words—they have become a sort of mantra for me.

I began improving steadily and could not get enough English courses. One last fond flight is from a journalism course on writing the feature story. The instructor started us out with reading two articles about teaching and then she wanted us to write a comparison/contrast reaction. She posted all of the student’s responses without names and wanted us to comment on what we liked and didn’t like. There were a few students who left comments under my paper that said, “I’d like to write like this.” I was in utter amazement and felt such joy. I do remember being absorbed in the assignment, being passionate, letting go, and finally editing and cleaning it up best I could. Even though this wasn’t graded and was just a warm up, I still wanted to do my best in my way, and that’s probably what the students reacted to. However, little did we know this was an exercise in how not to write a feature. After all the students had reacted to our essays, the instructor chimed in and said that while most of these essays were fine in their own right, they were not acceptable for feature writing and she proceeded to tell us why. And so the class began. It was a valuable course, and at times I felt like quitting because it was a different style of writing for me, but I relished in the challenge.

There are so many more positive experiences I’ve had since Mrs. H and Mrs. M. that put the hurtful ones into perspective. And quite honestly, if I didn’t have the negative experiences, I don’t know if I would be here today: Appreciative; both humbled and lifted; passionate about language and expressing myself in a way that is sometimes messy and sometimes neat, but always with passion.

No, I did not forget, but I forgive the hurtful words. I’m still flying, though, still trying to figure out exactly why God put me here. I’m still trying to find new ways to come out of my comfort zone, while respecting my introverted nature. I dream of one day inspiring and encouraging on a large scale, which in my world, will be a small scale. I’d like to provide a safe place, to provide a nurturing and supportive environment that allows for self-exploration, builds self-esteem and helps people find the confidence within themselves to keep turning the sometimes hurtful outer and inner words into gold.

Creation

We come into this world as artists, creators, and how we express that is for us to find out. It could be in how we organize an event, handle a customer crisis, write, draw, read, cook, tend house, farm—the list goes on. Life is art; art is life.

Yesterday, in particular, I felt on fire. So much racing through me. I continue to feel the inspiration and encouragement; and to find ways to remember to see the world with fresh eyes. I feel the nudges of the universe in a way like never before, or perhaps it’s the same, but now I’m listening more. I feel as though I am giving birth, birth to myself, birth to something that has always been—is a part of where I come from—from this earth, a series of connections, large and small, always a new page, always “emptying the cup” seeing the cycles and then allowing them to fade and then discovering them again.

All of this fire, made me think of a long lost memory of my real father and how he made me an easel when I was a little girl. I didn’t get to use it much. We lived apart. I had another father too. I was upset when my mother told him to take it down, take it apart. No easel. Why? Why! No! I cried. He wasn’t happy about it either. He was an artist, a fine cabinet maker. He would make me wooden dolls with block heads, but they were so beautiful, unique. He made a large crib, dollhouse, high chair. The only gift I kept because of circumstance is a treasure chest he made for me and here it stays, and when I open it, it still has that fresh wood smell that I love so much, and a flush of memory rises.

Ours was a complicated family story—to be saved for another place, another time—I’ll never quite understand, but I know that the easel he made with love, with his hands, my hands—that this drive in me to create in quiet and loud ways has always been there, and sometimes it disappears. I had never really made the connection. I see it now, and I also feel how it transcends all memory, into a larger memory beyond myself and my world.

To connect with that spark, that glow. It never burns out. The fire needs tending, keep blowing on it and see the sparks, hear the crackle. Know that it will never go out. It may need to recede, but it is always there: The drive to create and connect with the great beyond.