I’d rather stay at home all day—part of the day. If I could have my way…after I’ve written and read until I’m filled and satisfied, I’d hop in the car and drive, drive down the long tree lined road without a destination and stop when I was ready. I would find a small café, grab a sandwich and an iced tea. I would watch the ice melt, the cubes jingle in the glass after each sip, lifting the cold glass to my lips. I would open my notebook, inhale the hot pastrami warming in the oven before it was placed between two slices of onion bagel. I can smell the onions and the pastrami. I would look out the window, watch the people walk by. I would sit there with my pen in hand staring out the window, lose myself—and after some time has gone by, between bites and sips, I would begin writing, jotting anything that came to my mind and when I was full, when I was satisfied I would take a break and I’d do it all over again. In my reverie, I wouldn’t go to work at my regular job. It wouldn’t exist. I would be working doing something I love and I would make a living doing it. One day I hope to actualize this dream. The dream will have to sustain me.
It’s a moody week of ups and downs for no apparent reason. There are moments of happiness and moments of sadness. I believe the hormone fairy is about due for the cyclic visit and that always adds to my moods. I’ve lost some motivation for cooking and cleaning; although, I did prepare a pork tenderloin with a delicious rub the other night. I haven’t felt inspired to cook much of anything. Tonight though I have the desire to prepare a beef stir-fry—beef sirloin strips soaked in soy sauce, sautéed with green onions, garlic, bell pepper, mushrooms, and tomatoes, over a bed of rice. I don’t cook red meat often, but my body is craving the iron.
I overslept this morning. I’m feeling clumsy. I’m in internal cleansing mode. I’ll feel better. The day will be. Plans for camping have been postponed. It may be best. Now I will be able to attend the writer’s group meeting. The four pieces that I chose to submit for July to the group are all pulled from my blog, from the beginnings: Two poems and Two short personal essays. What’s interesting for me to observe is that I feel more nervous than when I posted them here for the first time. I will have to face people in the flesh and listen to their critiques. It definitely adds a very different element than hearing comments on the page alone. I hope that my emotions don’t get the best of me. I don’t mean it in a critical way. But even one comment from a woman in person about how she really liked something I had expressed, my closing lines—I started tearing up because of the tone in her voice. I could tell she connected with it. She understood.
The two personal essays I submitted are very personal and I only hope that my emotions don’t get the better of me. Even when I read one of my essays over, I became emotional. It sometimes takes me by surprise. I’m an emotional creature and this feels very different. I can’t hide my tears or laughter behind the screen. I will be naked, but I know I will be safe. Writers understand these things.
Naked on the page.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
A Car in Neutral
Today I feel a bit like a car in neutral—at least when I first started feeling like a car this morning, that’s how I felt, then I started thinking, maybe I’m really a car in park. I prefer neutral because there’s movement. In park, I don’t go anywhere, until I move the lever, but see I feel like the lever is stuck. I’m having moments of feeling like the gears aren’t working. After today, perhaps even after I’ve gotten this out, I will be able to move ever so slightly.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Welcome, Grey Day
When I woke up this morning, I looked out the window and was not expecting to see a light gray sheet pulled across the sky. It’s been hot these past few days, blue skies and playful clouds puttering around, changing shape, mingling with the sun. I poured my cup of decaf coffee, came and sat down, and thought to myself it couldn’t be…I heard the sound of car wheels riding on wet pavement. I stood to look out the window and it was indeed raining. Rain in July, right in the middle of a California summer.
Summertime was always my favorite season. That’s changed over time. I’ve grown to welcome the gray skies, the cooler, rain drenched days. We haven’t actually seen that much rain this season. But those gray skies…
I find solace in the grey.
Cool air against a backdrop
Summertime was always my favorite season. That’s changed over time. I’ve grown to welcome the gray skies, the cooler, rain drenched days. We haven’t actually seen that much rain this season. But those gray skies…
I find solace in the grey.
Cool air against a backdrop
of grey and white
shakes me alive.
Hot cloudless days,
drowsy and heavy
with heat curled around,
push me down.
Cool, grey
cloud filled days snap me to attention,
make me see things differently,
colors and shapes and thoughts,
that I don’t see on summer days
in quite the same way,
blue jay,
wheat colored grass,
eucalyptus,
fuchsia blossoms burst…
splash color on the grey canvas
splashes of thought—
grey day.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Miscellaneous Tidbits: Number day, Hitting Delete, and Poetry
I look forward to Friday the 13ths. Well, I don’t know if I look forward to them so much as I like when they happen. I welcome them. I’m superstitious about some things, but not Friday the 13th (knock-on-wood). So happy Friday the 13th to you!
Today is a number day: 7-13-12.
Hmm…what sort of number day is it? 13 and 12 look strong and odd together at first. Seven is one of my favorite numbers for some reason and seeing seven and 13 next to each other makes me smile. In fact, 13 looks like a smiley clown and twelve is a one with a two that decided not to be a question mark. 7, 13 and 12—a circus ring of numbers with seven as the ringmaster, while12 can turn into any animal he wants. He can shape shift. I see an elephant, no wait…a tiger…hold on…I see a seal with a red ruffled collar around his neck and he’s standing on his flippers and he’s dancing around and making his seal noises that sound like a fish barking and his whiskers shake and his body wiggles and he smiles to us, a happy circus seal.
**
Yesterday I hit delete. I know another who does this and I’m sure there are many others that do it and don’t talk about it. I don’t often find myself pushing the delete button. Many times though, I’ve thought about it and almost did. Something about yesterday made me do it. I had already written my blog and I didn’t realize I was going to write another and later when I reread what I wrote, I just wasn’t satisfied. I went back and forth in my mind about deleting: To Delete or To Not Delete? That was my question. After reading the first paragraph on my short second blog, I decided it was too rushed. Not quite right. I logged on and I did hit delete.
I think I’ve only ever completely deleted one or two blogs. No biggie. I see where I need to rework the deleted piece, to slow down; and one word in particular was bothering me. I decided it wasn’t necessary. I’d like to post the blog eventuall because it’s a memory—a food memory and I’d like to be able to look back.
It felt good to hit delete and it felt good knowing that I could come back to the piece because I didn’t hit delete on my computer.
Enough about delete.
**
I forgot how difficult poetry is to critique. Poetry can be so personal and sometimes it can mean something to the speaker that the reader will get a sense of but will not be able to enter completely. And a reader brings what they can, different experiences relate back in different ways.
Poetry can take longer to critique because there is so much there bottled into spaces of all sizes—and sizes can be deceiving. One small tiny poem can carry so much weight. With poetry every word counts even more, we move along—taken somewhere, immersed in a place or person, open to feelings. Who’s to say what is right or wrong? But of course it’s not about right or wrong, it’s sharing the experience of the poem as a reader and what I bring; it’s about what details I may be missing and noting that, what words are out of place; what feelings I feel after reaching the end; and how many times do I want to go back and keep reading? There are always questions. Sometimes I want more, even if it’s not meant to be. In some cases it can be more obvious; in other cases, it’s those fine details or lack of that you try to comb through and figure out what’s working and what’s not. And sometimes the poem is fine as it is.
There are so many ways a poem can express itself. Old schools, new schools, contemporary, rhyming, free form, etc. Just writing about this has brought a poem out of me.
**
Like a tunnel
suspended in space
grounded by gravity,
poetry shoots out—swoosh, bang,
rains
into outer space,
twisting and turning,
reaching to the stars,
planets,
the shining moon—
You
Me
&
You
**
Poetry is a wonderful mystery. I will always be in awe of what it can do, what it can pull out of each one of us.
**
Happy Day!
Today is a number day: 7-13-12.
Hmm…what sort of number day is it? 13 and 12 look strong and odd together at first. Seven is one of my favorite numbers for some reason and seeing seven and 13 next to each other makes me smile. In fact, 13 looks like a smiley clown and twelve is a one with a two that decided not to be a question mark. 7, 13 and 12—a circus ring of numbers with seven as the ringmaster, while12 can turn into any animal he wants. He can shape shift. I see an elephant, no wait…a tiger…hold on…I see a seal with a red ruffled collar around his neck and he’s standing on his flippers and he’s dancing around and making his seal noises that sound like a fish barking and his whiskers shake and his body wiggles and he smiles to us, a happy circus seal.
**
Yesterday I hit delete. I know another who does this and I’m sure there are many others that do it and don’t talk about it. I don’t often find myself pushing the delete button. Many times though, I’ve thought about it and almost did. Something about yesterday made me do it. I had already written my blog and I didn’t realize I was going to write another and later when I reread what I wrote, I just wasn’t satisfied. I went back and forth in my mind about deleting: To Delete or To Not Delete? That was my question. After reading the first paragraph on my short second blog, I decided it was too rushed. Not quite right. I logged on and I did hit delete.
I think I’ve only ever completely deleted one or two blogs. No biggie. I see where I need to rework the deleted piece, to slow down; and one word in particular was bothering me. I decided it wasn’t necessary. I’d like to post the blog eventuall because it’s a memory—a food memory and I’d like to be able to look back.
It felt good to hit delete and it felt good knowing that I could come back to the piece because I didn’t hit delete on my computer.
Enough about delete.
**
I forgot how difficult poetry is to critique. Poetry can be so personal and sometimes it can mean something to the speaker that the reader will get a sense of but will not be able to enter completely. And a reader brings what they can, different experiences relate back in different ways.
Poetry can take longer to critique because there is so much there bottled into spaces of all sizes—and sizes can be deceiving. One small tiny poem can carry so much weight. With poetry every word counts even more, we move along—taken somewhere, immersed in a place or person, open to feelings. Who’s to say what is right or wrong? But of course it’s not about right or wrong, it’s sharing the experience of the poem as a reader and what I bring; it’s about what details I may be missing and noting that, what words are out of place; what feelings I feel after reaching the end; and how many times do I want to go back and keep reading? There are always questions. Sometimes I want more, even if it’s not meant to be. In some cases it can be more obvious; in other cases, it’s those fine details or lack of that you try to comb through and figure out what’s working and what’s not. And sometimes the poem is fine as it is.
There are so many ways a poem can express itself. Old schools, new schools, contemporary, rhyming, free form, etc. Just writing about this has brought a poem out of me.
**
Like a tunnel
suspended in space
grounded by gravity,
poetry shoots out—swoosh, bang,
rains
into outer space,
twisting and turning,
reaching to the stars,
planets,
the shining moon—
You
Me
&
You
**
Poetry is a wonderful mystery. I will always be in awe of what it can do, what it can pull out of each one of us.
**
Happy Day!
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Human Balance Sheet & The Heart
Driving home from accounting class a few weeks back, I was thinking about the accounting equation and I was saying to myself assets and liabilities, assets and liabilities, assets minus liabilities equals owner’s equity. And then I remembered a class: The Metaphysical Heart. One of the books we used was The Heartmath Solution by Doc Childre and Howard Martin with Donna Beech. I was trying to remember because I had a remnant of a recollection of there being a sort of human balance sheet in the book. I no longer had the book, so I checked it out from the library to see if what I saw in my memory was there or if I had seen it somewhere else instead.
That led me to back to my heart, and of bringing a sense of equanimity to my interactions and reactions, sometimes taking workplace comments personally. I turned to my heart—heart intelligence as the authors refer to it. Without much thought as though it was second nature, I would revive my heart intelligence and take it to work with me to aid me in those moments when I might go on the defensive because I’ve taken something too personally.
Since my first recollection those weeks back, it has been a ritual that when I am about six feet from opening the door to work, I imagine that my heart is in a beautiful silver protective cage. As I get closer to the door, I open the latch, allowing my heart to be my guide. I have to admit that this has helped me greatly. By bringing focus to my heart and acting from a place of love and understanding, I have been going about my work day’s much lighter, and not taking things personally and having a sort of protective love barrier. It seems I may be doing a modified version of Heart Lock-In.
Though the techniques of Heartmath can be found in other areas, such as religion, new age thinking, common sense even, I find that the Heartmath techniques offer a perspective that can only reinforce what we may already know intuitively and there are facts in the book for those that need their facts. I always try to keep compassion close by my side, along with understanding and openness, but recently it has helped me to bring my attention to my heart and to allow my responses to come from there in a more mindful and intentional way.
One day this week, I forgot to visualize the latch opening to release my heart before walking through the door. As the day progressed, I began feeling a bit stressed and it was then that I remembered that I hadn’t opened the latch—and then in those moments, I set my mind’s eye on the beautiful home of my heart and opened the latch to release her.
There are many tools to be collected and to be added to our toolboxes and this is one that my accounting class brought me back to.
The section in the book, “Becoming Our Own Accountants,” shows us to take stock of our thoughts and emotional responses, determining which are assets and which are deficits. The page shows an “Asset/Deficit Balance Sheet” where you enter your assets and deficits and tally them up to see if you are somewhat in balance or if you may have too many items listed under deficits.
Under assets you “list the positive events, conversations, and interactions of a specific time. List as many assets as you can think of, feeling appreciation for each asset as you go. Also list ongoing assets in your life—overall quality of friends, family, living and/or working environment, etc. (Notice how conscious you were of these assets during the period).”
Under deficits you “list issues, conflicts, and events that were negative or draining during that same period” (pg. 97).
Most of us may carry our human balance sheets around in our minds and may not need to go through this exercise, and for some, it may be a useful exercise and show us that we need to bring in more assets to balance out our deficits so we don’t wither away due to emotional stress and imbalance.
One of the key points at the end of this chapter is that, “by using your heart as your compass, you can see more clearly which direction to go to stop self-defeating behavior. If you take just one mental or emotional habit that really bothers or drains you and apply heart intelligence to it, you’ll see a noticeable difference in your life” (pg. 101).
Back in class, those seven or eight years ago, my project was on applying love—heart intelligence—in the workplace because I was having those same issues of taking things personally and not knowing how to deal with the boss’s sometimes offhanded personality, which would leave me feeling drained and upset. We had to break out into groups to discuss our projects and when I complained of my issues, one of the group members looked to me and said, “You have a choice in how you react.” It silenced me and I knew she was right and I thanked her. There was something in her tone, her tough but caring words that got through to me. It nudged me to accept my role in the equation, to realize that I had a choice to make. The first was to stop playing the role of victim. The second was either I quit, or if I stayed—if I liked my job enough—I would need to find a way to change my reactions. I still have my buttons and there have been moments when I have failed and my reactions got the best of me.
And yet, it is comforting to come full circle, taking an accounting class that brings me back to Heartmath; still the same job, with my same boss, still having our few moments, yet 98% of the time, all is well. I have found cycling back to Heartmath to be very valuable in maintaining my overall equilibrium—a tool in my toolbox that needed dusting off because it can be used anytime, anywhere—an asset to combine with the other assets on my human balance sheet.
**
The first link below is very helpful in summarizing the Heartmath philosophy and introducing the techniques.
Heartmath – Summary of Heartmath and Techniques
http://www.pbs.org/bodyandsoul/203/heartmath.htm
http://www.heartmath.org/
That led me to back to my heart, and of bringing a sense of equanimity to my interactions and reactions, sometimes taking workplace comments personally. I turned to my heart—heart intelligence as the authors refer to it. Without much thought as though it was second nature, I would revive my heart intelligence and take it to work with me to aid me in those moments when I might go on the defensive because I’ve taken something too personally.
Since my first recollection those weeks back, it has been a ritual that when I am about six feet from opening the door to work, I imagine that my heart is in a beautiful silver protective cage. As I get closer to the door, I open the latch, allowing my heart to be my guide. I have to admit that this has helped me greatly. By bringing focus to my heart and acting from a place of love and understanding, I have been going about my work day’s much lighter, and not taking things personally and having a sort of protective love barrier. It seems I may be doing a modified version of Heart Lock-In.
Though the techniques of Heartmath can be found in other areas, such as religion, new age thinking, common sense even, I find that the Heartmath techniques offer a perspective that can only reinforce what we may already know intuitively and there are facts in the book for those that need their facts. I always try to keep compassion close by my side, along with understanding and openness, but recently it has helped me to bring my attention to my heart and to allow my responses to come from there in a more mindful and intentional way.
One day this week, I forgot to visualize the latch opening to release my heart before walking through the door. As the day progressed, I began feeling a bit stressed and it was then that I remembered that I hadn’t opened the latch—and then in those moments, I set my mind’s eye on the beautiful home of my heart and opened the latch to release her.
There are many tools to be collected and to be added to our toolboxes and this is one that my accounting class brought me back to.
The section in the book, “Becoming Our Own Accountants,” shows us to take stock of our thoughts and emotional responses, determining which are assets and which are deficits. The page shows an “Asset/Deficit Balance Sheet” where you enter your assets and deficits and tally them up to see if you are somewhat in balance or if you may have too many items listed under deficits.
Under assets you “list the positive events, conversations, and interactions of a specific time. List as many assets as you can think of, feeling appreciation for each asset as you go. Also list ongoing assets in your life—overall quality of friends, family, living and/or working environment, etc. (Notice how conscious you were of these assets during the period).”
Under deficits you “list issues, conflicts, and events that were negative or draining during that same period” (pg. 97).
Most of us may carry our human balance sheets around in our minds and may not need to go through this exercise, and for some, it may be a useful exercise and show us that we need to bring in more assets to balance out our deficits so we don’t wither away due to emotional stress and imbalance.
One of the key points at the end of this chapter is that, “by using your heart as your compass, you can see more clearly which direction to go to stop self-defeating behavior. If you take just one mental or emotional habit that really bothers or drains you and apply heart intelligence to it, you’ll see a noticeable difference in your life” (pg. 101).
Back in class, those seven or eight years ago, my project was on applying love—heart intelligence—in the workplace because I was having those same issues of taking things personally and not knowing how to deal with the boss’s sometimes offhanded personality, which would leave me feeling drained and upset. We had to break out into groups to discuss our projects and when I complained of my issues, one of the group members looked to me and said, “You have a choice in how you react.” It silenced me and I knew she was right and I thanked her. There was something in her tone, her tough but caring words that got through to me. It nudged me to accept my role in the equation, to realize that I had a choice to make. The first was to stop playing the role of victim. The second was either I quit, or if I stayed—if I liked my job enough—I would need to find a way to change my reactions. I still have my buttons and there have been moments when I have failed and my reactions got the best of me.
And yet, it is comforting to come full circle, taking an accounting class that brings me back to Heartmath; still the same job, with my same boss, still having our few moments, yet 98% of the time, all is well. I have found cycling back to Heartmath to be very valuable in maintaining my overall equilibrium—a tool in my toolbox that needed dusting off because it can be used anytime, anywhere—an asset to combine with the other assets on my human balance sheet.
**
The first link below is very helpful in summarizing the Heartmath philosophy and introducing the techniques.
Heartmath – Summary of Heartmath and Techniques
http://www.pbs.org/bodyandsoul/203/heartmath.htm
http://www.heartmath.org/
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
The Grass and More Reflecting on Writing
“The Grass is
always greener
where you
water it.”
From idea-sandbox.com (napkin wisdom)
I came across this blog at work when I was looking for ideas to infuse into our bi-monthly team meetings. This quote is from the blog’s most recent post and I was drawn to the optimism of this familiar quote turned on its side: Productive, self-responsible action. I shared the quote with someone, they the witty one who finds the bleak humor in situations and what this person said to me is, “What if the grass gets peed on?” I thought to myself of course you would ask that. I replied back, “Keep watering.”
Today I am on an early schedule. Still need to complete my personal morning pages. I always get excited when a new and interesting class is upon me and I have been searching about on Amazon at the different short story writing books. I already have my texts for the class, but this is where the excitement comes in and then in the writer’s group I am also energized because each writer brings something different to the group. It has forced me to want to be able to learn the craft even better and before my course begins so that my feedback is more useful. I found a few interesting books and saw one that I had when I took another creative writing course. I had let the book go, but I found myself clicking “add to cart.” I wanted to revisit that particular book: What If? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers by Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter. I was also drawn to Writing in General and the Short Story in Particular by L. Rust Hills. What If was not available for Kindle and I decided that although Writing in General was, I simply wanted the paper copy, so it’s on order. I was also curious about the micro-story collections and flash fiction collections. I think I’ll wait on those for now.
I was thinking back on my past creative writing course the other day and how I have saved the stories. What I noticed by remembering is that I was able to tell fictional stories based on fact. I was actually able to write several short stories and let myself go. One story though, as I recall, verged on all fact wrapped up in fiction, whereas the others had small emotional moments disguised, made into something different.
I look forward to the short story writing class because it seems I am still hesitant about how to do it, even though I did it. Does that make any sense at all? I believe that having a guide and new examples, and drawing on my storehouse of emotional moments, it will eventually all come together. I also still need to let go. I must admit when I wrote a couple of the short stories, one in particular was partially inspired by one of my self-portrait paintings. The painting was infused with feeling and on that night I had the painting with me down on the floor—and the element that I needed to let go completely was a couple glasses of wine and I wrote with intensity. I sense that I may enjoy a couple more glasses of wine during the upcoming short story writing class. I suppose there isn’t anything wrong with that. I will try with and without. I know many writers drink. Drink, wine, cigarettes, coffee. Don’t they all go together sometimes?
There is one story that I was pleased with. I won’t use it in the short story class because the idea is to produce new material. I can revisit it at some point if I decide I want to and present it to the writer’s group. I am so exited that I’m practically jumping inside of myself. Writing is my bliss; the learning and discovery along the way is never ending—just as it should be.
This morning’s music is Latin Lounge from the Putumayo World Music collection. It sweeps me away to a sensual and rhythmic place. It is a splendid way to begin the day.
Happy watering and creating—happy writing!
Monday, July 9, 2012
Climbing A Tree
About a month back we went on a short hike. A break from the noise, quiet and vast views was just what I needed.
Corn colored grass glistened with the sun’s rays, swayed in the wind, calling for me to run through and fall into its soft cushion.
The views are always spectacular from up high. I can see why birds and crows always find themselves on the uppermost part of a tree or building. It’s the perfect lookout and it feels liberating, close enough to everything, yet in solitude amongst the clatter.
On our way back down the hill, I stopped at the oak trees and took some photos and then I got the bug to climb up the tree and sit in the crevice that you see here. My significant other said he could push me up by my bum, while I leapt up to get hold of the trunk. I said, no, no. I don’t want to go up that way. I’d rather climb it from the fallen branch on the backside. It looked easy enough. However, when I started to amble up the large trunk, I realized that I could still fall and I had to steady myself. It wasn’t quite as easy as it looked. I took my time. It wouldn’t have been a long fall, but it wouldn’t have felt good either and may have knocked the wind out of me. Who knows, I could have sprained a wrist. I went slowly, straddling the wide trunk, and then bringing my feet up the center once I’d found my balance. I was nervous, but I kept going on all fours, hugging the tree until I reached the spot. I had to negotiate a large clump of dried branches as I climbed over a large branch in my way. And then I made it.
My childhood home had a large pine tree on the side of the house. I used to love climbing to the crook and sit there for a bit. I was more daring in my younger years. I would swing and climb. I especially enjoyed climbing onto the chimney of our house and up to the roof. I jumped off the roof a few times. My older boy cousin was probably the instigator. We’d play with toy guns and go up to my grandparent’s, and again we’d find our way atop a roof; this time, though it was the roof of the little house my grandfather had built to store tools, antique furniture, and other odds and ends.
I was a bit of a tomboy growing up and at the same time I loved my dolls and play oven and other girl things. And mom dressed me up in frilly dresses and she also dressed me in horrid boy suits. She may have only done this once or twice. I was humiliated going to school in a boy suit.
I still have an adventurous side. I’m more careful now because I’m not as flexile as I used to be and I’m mindful of the creeks and crunches in my bones. I’m glad I climbed the tree that day, while I still can.
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