siouxsiepoetuncensored

unnerving

2012-01-30T14:45:00.000-08:00

i'm sitting in the waiting room waiting for my kid to be set free from her cleaning appointment. why do all dentist offices have that weird smell, not entirely even sure how to describe it. but it's part what imagine to be antiseptic of some sort, it's got that weird sterile smell to it, part scorched tooth, or bone as the case may be. a really gross combination that one must become desensitized to because i can't imagine working around that smell all day and actually smelling it.

so i'm sitting there, head buried in a book, trying to block out the news which is blaring in the waiting room. i don't want to see the wars, or the killings, i don't want to know there are predators out there--because honestly, it doesn't make my life any easier, it just fills me full of something close to dread at the human condition and the state we find ourselves in.

so, i turn up my ipod and blast yoga music in my ears to offset some of the negative vibe generated by the news. this is a strange solution, i know. especially since i'm using my daughters handmedown earbuds, only one of which works, fortunately it's the right one which houses the control mechanism. so i stick my finger in my other ear to block out what sounds like a lug wrench and air compressor, as if the indy 500 had a pitstop in the backroom of this office. i can hear all kinds of powertools going, and i am imagining horrible things taking place back there. the finger doesn't work for long, so i put my head on my ear and try to press down my ear. again, not a viable solution.

so, i resign to one moderately blaring earbud and trying to focus on the words on the page in front of me.

block out the images of the man drilling in the head of some person i don't know. let alone the fact that my child is behind those doors getting probed. i don't know why suddenly i'm so sensitive to her and the environment.

when she finally comes out, she mentions the drilling sounds, how they creeped her out and she kept trying, just like me, on the other side of the wall to block them out.

sometimes, i think we are so connected to those we love, we can't help but feel their pain. their discomfort. their distress. i wish i could save her from it, but there is no way. we must surrender to the probe and drill sometimes in order to stave off what would otherwise be great harm, eventually.

she asked me about her wisdom teeth, if they would need to come out. and i felt a twinge in me. there's another thing i can't protect her from. reminds me of my dad who began crying on the phone when i was in labor, just hours before i would deliver my only child.

i wish i could save you from it.

he said.

i had no idea what he meant then.

but i do now.

pace thyself

2012-01-24T18:12:00.000-08:00

beginning a new semester is exhilarating. i love the students i'm working with. i love the subjects i'm teaching. what more could i ask for. it is as if somehow my life has become the life i wanted. so many years i've been looking to this place. i walk around now and just smile.

i went hiking saturday with a group of women and at one point when we started out i just hollered out,

it's a beautiful day!

because it is. they all are. even the ones that are not snow encrusted. even the average rainy day, or the muddy slogging cold day. they are all beautiful days.

i'm grateful to be able to help so many young minds grow. watching people's worlds enlarge is highly recommended. i hope i never lose this joy of being with a classroom full of students. i hope this semester continues to be one of mutual regard. today two of my former students leaned in my doorway as i was teaching and waved at me. i just smiled and greeted them by name. i've seen a few others in the hall. we have little catch up sessions. it is so good to know these people. so good to see them grow.

i still don't know how any of this plays out. how i will make ends meet someday. what is going to come of this venture. but i don't need to know today. i just have to show up in class and be present to the students i am working with. that is all that is expected of me. there is not mystery of the universe to unravel, no great dilemma to solve. just one more class, one more day of teaching. the rest will settle itself in due time.

i am blessed. i am grateful. i am, as always these days, looking forward to work tomorrow. it is what i am supposed to be doing with my life. when you find your road. enjoy it. i never knew how good life could be until now. even the upsets, the heart breaks, the trials, even those seem far more manageable because i'm right where i'm supposed to be in my life.

i wish this for you too my friends. wherever you are. may you pursue your bliss each day.

i want to write more poems. i haven't been productive lately, but that has never stopped me before. but i feel the backbuilding going on and know it is just a matter of time before the spigot turns on and the poems come pouring out. i will be ready. i live my life in a state of readiness for the next poem.

slip sliding away

2012-01-21T16:38:00.001-08:00

it was so worth it to get out and go to yoga this morning. there were only two of us there with sophie, fresh from her trip to turkey. she got on the floor beside me at one point and helped me find my first unassisted half shoulder stand. now i know how to do it, and i could never figure it out before. sometimes just seeing it from different angles helps. that and having someone right there baby stepping you through the pose.

she lifted my shirt and looked at my tattoo and said,

i'll have to show you mine.

so before we left class i got to see her gorgeous hip to hip tattoo with a lotus in the very center. truly beautiful.

i've been thinking about my next one. where to put it, what it should be, when. these are all important questions. nothing rash, nothing trendy. just something that is profoundly significant to me. but what.

until i can answer those questions, i wait. rather impatiently at times, but i do wait. sometimes years pass. and that's okay. i can wait. i have learned how.

i've found myself again, i was at the bottom of a hot salted and oiled tub. it seems i must take to water to find myself at times. and then i cried. water begets water. but it's all going to be all right. i will get a massive infusion of beauty tomorrow.

until then, i trust. i rest. i remember who i am.

when she gone

2012-01-21T14:15:00.000-08:00

something about when my kid goes away, not sure what it is. but i could best the devil in a duel at the moment. i'm trying just to breathe, to relax. did my dishes, that always has a centering zen effect on me. lit some candles, burning some incense. not sure what i need to do, maybe just write.

things are always complicated. moreso when you have a teenager who plans her own getaways with her friends and i refuse to get involved in the planning. my own worst enemy there, but at some point they have to learn how to navigate their own lives without mothers hen pecking circles around them.

we sat by the side of the road one evening as i was getting ready to see her off on a trip upstate and asked,

why am i letting you do this?

because you trust my judgment,

she replied.

right.

and i do. that is my comfort. my kid has always been solid. sometimes she gets flustered, i am part of the problem, but i've shown her mostly how to get around on trains and such by herself. last time we flew home from cali, i walked behind her and didn't help her at all. she had to ask for help from strangers like i wasn't there. she MUST learn how to get around on her own in this life.

but i sometimes would be more comfortable being there beside her. tucking her in at night. she is still my baby. she will always be my baby.

and in so many ways, she is so much better than i am, and was at her age. she is stronger, wiser, far more intelligent. i trust her more than myself sometimes, and she says,

i'm the responsible one here,

when we are deciding what to do.

it's not that i defer to her judgment, but she has proven, again and again to be wise beyond her years. so when i pull the mom card on her, she defers and when it goes awry as sometimes it does i remind her to make me listen. she has sound judgment. truly.

but she is still my baby.

i still miss her when she gone.

and tonight, i have to trust her to the goodness of the universe. to release her to spread her wings. and watch the horizon for her flight home.

young mines

2012-01-19T17:54:00.000-08:00

fifty or so. writers. i have two groups and i can't tell you how exciting the prospect of influencing young writers is to me. my whole life has been lived in character on page. i am most comfortable there. it is a world i understand. though the effect that world has on the three dimensional world is sometimes beyond my grasp (or even caring), i still am awed by the power of words.

i believe that we are given a task to complete on this earth. lucky woman to stumble upon the path and begin the journey down it. i feel my path has been unfolding me to this place since i can remember, everything, every last instance has been a joy in this journey. yes, even when i'm besieged by a group of writers. i said to a couple friends today,

this is a process i initiated, i must see it through.

how will it end

it's a mystery.

i believe this. finding the road and meeting your companions for a portion of said journey is comfort but it is also cause for growth. growth is always painful. but only by defending my work, by trusting my gut, by staying true to my style am i able to write the works that are imbued with power and ignite a room with passion. i keep asking this of words and words keep delivering. even when i doubt, the words themselves have a life of their own and rise to the occasion.

i love words. i love writing. i love teaching writing. i love teaching reading. that is my third group of young writers, though this group is once removed from the direct process of words through their own fingertips. the flow is going the other direction. i have to learn how to invigorate this process for the young readers in my charge. i want to have the confidence and skill with the readers that i have with the writers. this is a process of time. of trial and error. this will be a most excellent semester, i can already feel it.

and i trust. it will all be well. i know it.

sometimes i think the path finds us. and i, for one, am grateful to be found. at last.

more better

2012-01-13T08:57:00.001-08:00

i just had the conversation with a friend, we talked about the things that are going on, she said,

i feel good things are coming.

yes,

i replied.

but maybe not the way i expect them.

which means, i have to release my expectations, yet again. this seems to be the story of my life. that i have something new, something i aspire to, something i dream about, and while i invest my time and energy in pursuit of that dream, not so much pursuit as much as observation. let me rephrase: i invest my time and energy in observation of the dreams that light up my heart. by observation i mean, it's like a bird watcher sits, binocs at the ready, waiting with delight and wonder to identify what will appear. and who knows what will appear. who can ever know. the birdwatcher has done the hard work of positioning herself where the odds are high that she will see something grand, costa rica, the sea shore, a mountain top, depending on what one chooses to observe.

bird every bird

is the mantra of those birders i have accompanied on eagle watches. we eagerly scan the trees and rivers, the skies and valleys in search of that which we have come to see. this, then, is no different.

i realized yesterday that i too believe good is coming. what i don't know is the manner in which it will appear. if i have my heart set on seeing it in one particular way, a job, a person, an acquisition, a certain amount in my checking account. if i expect any of these to reflect what i seek, i may miss the joy of the thing appearing from some place unexpected. thus, expecting not to only see eagles, we bird every bird. so the snowy white owl that was perched on a pier piling in piermont would have been missed if we hadn't been open to seeing other wonders. unexpected wonders.

true, i needed a guide, but i have many. and last night, as the tears welled up in my eyes, she whispered to me,

there is something better coming.

it didn't cut as deeply as it could, not realizing the dream in the way i wanted, now i must return again to trust. it is my safe haven. my source. i trust good things are on their way. will i recognize them when they arrive. only if i empty myself of expectation.

suffering

2012-01-07T14:55:00.000-08:00

it's such a classic theme. one with which i am intimately acquainted. it came to me the other day in conversation with a friend that the ideas we cling to, even the good ones, are the source of our suffering. this is no great revelation.

marriage.
security.
success.
relationship.

what idea do i have to let go of now. all of them. it's not easy. sometimes, i feel that old familiar pang and i have to remind myself, it's not what i want. to suffer in lieu of being present. because ultimately, nothing has changed. the only thing that causes me pain is that my idea, my ideals are not being met. i'm not able to withstand the burden of expectation.

when i reconcile this, the moment doesn't seem so bad. it feels perfect, actually. even though things are still not necessarily going the way i want, they are, in fact, going the way they must. i trust this.

so i ask myself again tonight, what do i really want, some unrealized idea, some fantasy, some dream, illusion. or do i want to trust and stay present in the moment.

i had another realization as i was navigating the city. there are obstacles everywhere. even en route to the city, before you get there, the way is fraught with peril.

or is it.

is not the pessimistic outlook the same as the optimistic in the sense that both are unrealized. there are always at least two roads. which will you choose. for me, i have moments when i see clearly the optimistic moment. the joy of being. the reality that i am calling into existence goodness when i choose the good road.

good has such moral connotations. i do not mean to imply that one way is necessarily good v bad. that is not what i'm saying at all. by the good road i mean, we can walk in trust and openness or not. the good road, for me, is the road of openness. delighting in the trials and tribulations the momentary confusions, the doubts and misgivings that life presents us all with. because i've come to understand it is all good. even the bad, and by bad i mean, that which thwarts my expectation. thwarted expectation is a good thing, it reminds me there is still work to be done. another mile or so to go. we've not yet arrived.

welcome

2012-01-03T08:16:00.000-08:00

i have decided on my new year's resolution. it is, welcome new friends.

i can be about as hospitable as an arid desert for a fern given the right circumstance. but, i am trying to change that this year. i will trust those who come into my life are meant to be there and welcome them.

how will this translate to real life, i don't really know. i am going to try a mental shift first. to determine to welcome others. that is my angle on it.

the thing about resolutions is, they can't be impossible, but they really set the tone for the coming year. i wanted mine to be optimistically challenging. to make a game of something i don't necessarily excel at. i can be friendly when i want to be, but usually people have to navigate the brier patch before they reach the friendly patch. very pisces.

this year, will try to engage others in dialogue and make them feel at ease. perhaps, the less i focus on myself, the more outwardly welcoming i am, the easier it will be for them to navigate the brier patch. because if i think that will automatically be gone, i'm just f-f-f-foolin' myself. it will take a process of time for me to change the way that i relate naturally. that process begins now.

i have noticed i don't walk up to people hand outstretched and say my name. this is a courteous, professional greeting and i must adopt it. i tend to go silent when in a group of new people and i will try, earnestly try, to engage in the conversation. mostly when i'm with a new crowd, i will answer questions if asked, but i don't feel the need to dominate the conversation. if someone chimes in and cuts me off, i let them have the floor. i don't need the floor. ever.

this results in my being silent a lot of the time.

mostly because i'm okay with not saying what i think aloud. i don't have any felt need to do that. but i've come to understand that engaging people, drawing them out, is not easier when i'm silent for long periods. because then i ride that silence to shutdown and that has to change.

so, outstretched hand, warm greeting, gentle inquiry and response.

at least that's what i'm gonna try. who knows if it will work.

better late

2011-12-31T07:47:00.000-08:00

so i am compiling my works for a reading in nyc on jan 5, let me take a moment to plug that gig:

this thursday, january 5, 6-8pm, at les petite versailles in the east village, i will be giving a reading. it is an outdoor art installation, which is heated and quite cozy i'm told.

anywhoo, i'm preparing my work, and reading the pieces aloud for my first timed reading (this is my standard practice before a reading).

it comes to me that the way i read my poems is not how they appear on the page.

the lightbulb finally flickers and illuminates, i need to make my work look like i read it.

i tell this brilliant idea to my poet friend jacque who is visiting from baton rouge, and she says,

i told you that last year.

:D

well, friends, i am nothing if not stubborn. she said,

you wouldn't listen.

i said,

i get it now.

she just shook her head. i changed the subject. fortunately the night provided many diversions.

so that is the first phase of revision for me, breaking lines and using space to convey to the reader how my works sound as i read them aloud.

change is slow, change is hard. but i am listening. even if it takes me a full year to see the merit of an argument, i don't claim to be speedy in how i apply what i hear, i only promise to listen. and someday, to change.

lucky me if you are sitting with me when i have that realization.

lucky me if you can say,

i told you that a year ago.

it proves that i have friends who accept my many flaws and trust the process with me. i am grateful for such a band of poets and ne'er do wells. though they're not such a bad bunch as all that.

contending with shadows

2011-12-23T08:51:00.000-08:00

it has come time for me to face my work again. to turn a hard cold eye to it, and attempt to fashion it into something publishable. those words seem strange to me because i don't view poetry that way, a product of manufacture. that, perhaps is my greatest liability (i have many).

having recently been told in the most brutal way that i need to revisit my manuscript, i am now faced with the task of doing so. and so i shall.

sometimes, change comes that is unexpected. we grow through much pain, but we grow. that is the task before me now, to not shy away from the pain of growth, but to

breathe into it,

as sophie says,

surrender to the screaming hip.

i have no more foresight at this juncture of my life than i have had at any previous. i only know how to trust. i said last night,

there are two doors.

what's on the other side

i don't know.

you see, i never know. none of us have that luxury.

i had a thought last night that i haven't had in a great while. that i wished some hawk was still circling overhead, looking out for me. that was then though.

how to use my winter break. i had thought to escape, to run to the hills and be alone for a while, but i may stay and reckon with shadows. with the darker nature of my life. dig out, as it were, the piles of papers under my desk. dust off the manuscript that has been sheathed since the dogpile. and dogpile it was. a most unlovely public flogging of an event.

but i'm still standing.

what does the future hold.

i do not know. but i trust.

awakenings

2011-12-17T05:05:00.000-08:00

my love told me to watch this movie, an old movie, with robert de niro and robin williams. it struck me as the kind of movie that screams wake up and live your life.

i was comforted by the fact that i do feel i live my life. that i'm paying attention. that i'm feeling it. could i do more. of course, everyone can. but in terms of loving those in my life, i certainly do that.

in each of my classes this semester i would get images of the faces of those who sit before me and feel an obligation to them, to do right by them. and i tried to engage them. to respond to that calling.

as one class ended thursday, i got a hug, a few,

hope to see you agains,

one,

i hope you're teaching my next class,

and it was nice to know that there was mutual regard. the backward glance over the shoulder of a young person is significant.

i spent the better part of my semester sitting across the table from the kids in my writing course. the way i teach i engage them and their writing one on one. i look into their eyes. i listen to them. i read their words and ask,

what are you trying to say.

by explaining it to me, i can usually help them navigate their way there. it's the ones who don't know what they are trying to say that i have the most difficulty helping cross that cavernous void of wordlessness.

one young man would arrive late, fall asleep in class, and was generally out of sync. but when i found out why, i couldn't help but respond to him. he worked the night shift, then slept for a couple hours, then attended classes all day. he was trying to change his stars.

more than once, as i can see his eyes before me now, did i sit with him and say,

tell me.

and he did. he spoke softly.

i'm not entirely sure why people enter our lives.

a woman i know very well uses this phrase which i've tried to incorporate into my repertoire,

an abundant exchange of energy.

what does that mean. i'm not entirely sure. in a moment by moment exchange it could be thirty cents for the copier or twenty dollars for a cd, or my book for yours, or just presence. attending to one another's lives in whatever context we might find ourselves.

looking back over the semester i wonder if i served them well. i'd like to think i did the best i could. that i genuinely showed up. i trust that when one person actually engages others are obliged to or leave. the weight of actual presence has that repelling factor to it. if i can't show up for you, i won't. i will leave. that is how i experience it anyway. so when another does persist. slogs through the mundane to meet for an abundant exchange of energy, the other must reconcile that presence. or walk away.

walking away is one way to deal with it. but i hope to engage those eyes again next semester. the questioning, the bored, the delighted.

and i trust those that stay will meet me with their presence.

for an abundant exchange of energy.

trust into it

2011-12-15T07:44:00.000-08:00

yes, i've a pile of dishes and need to shower, i just got in from yoga and have to go give a final to a class. but that phrase just slipped out of my noodle and i had to push pause.

last night's yoga class with sophie was divine. i couldn't get the easiest things right, because my mind was cluttered from the day, a good day, albeit, but there was a lot going on. i didn't find the bodywork so challenging though, it was more the mind work.

this morning, sophie teaches an am class which is the twin of the pm class. i had trouble getting up, bed was warm, dreams were intriguing, but i drug myself there and found my mind in it, my body, not so much.

sometimes when we're in a deep stretch sophie will say,

breathe into it.

let the breath take you deeper.

i try. yoga has the ability to make one realize what a rigid frame develops over the years. i'm still locked up in many ways, but find that if i just breathe and relax, i can slip deeper into a pose.

so my dear friend is struggling. i told her,

trust into it.

that is the phrase that got me.

it is pretty much how i live my life. when i breathe and trust, i can slip deeper into presence. into now.

huzzah!

2011-12-14T10:22:00.000-08:00

sometimes good things happen. i'm grateful for everything, but the good things are really nice. sometimes, most times, they are also very scary. what happens when we finally start getting what we want. there are no more excuses. it's time to step up. then you begin to realize, this is a lot of work, being happy. at least that is what i've realized.

wait, wha--

exactly. i've found that desire fulfilled is not just joy. it is also work. it takes a lot of energy to do the thing you do. the good thing is, that thing generates enough umph that you continue to feel it worthwhile. after all it is what you wanted to do, right.

if it do not, then perhaps the work is about realizing what you thought you wanted wasn't really what you wanted. the reconciliation of dreams and ideals to reality. everyone goes through it.

so, no reconciling here, i'm getting what i asked for. it's wonderful. it's work.

i'm rolling up my sleeves and diving in joyously. though sometimes i tremble, that is part of the learning curve. that is part of the deal. just because it's a wish fulfilled, doesn't mean it's going to be a free ride (can i use any more cliches).

i'm grateful. that's all. just plain old fashioned grateful.

separate self

2011-12-05T12:23:00.001-08:00

i've come to the stunning paradox that we are individuals, some would say,

alone till we die,

yet in the buddhist texts, at least, we are trying to stop separating self from other. yet, the paradox--i am alone, and in relationship, be it intimate or otherwise, i am together in my aloneness.

this idea, this reality, made me realize that i've never overcome the separateness in my past relationships. never even gave it a thought. it was how we operated. i retreated to my corner, he to his, or she to hers, depending. only now, do i find the piercing eyes of my other pressing in, even when i am most unlovely, reminding me not to let it take me out.

don't forget who you are,

she says.

who am i. really.

there are moments i think i know. and moments i'm certain i do not. this weekend was a mixed bag of reaction and observation. at least i was able to stay present in my sucktastic moments, and by that presence to observe what has come instinctively to me my entire life.

in short, to run. pack up, take off, head for the hills. and if i can't get bodily away, to wall myself in, typically with silence, an averted glance. so many defenses. it was hard to see through them, until finally, i just kept watching and found some words to describe what exactly was going on.

i came across this passage in everyday zen:

if we truly want to see fundamental unity, not just once in a while, but most of the time--which is what the religious life is--then our primary practice has to be with what Menzan Zenji (a Soto Zen scholar and teacher) calls the "barrier of emotion-thought." He means that when something seems to threaten us, we react. The minute we react a barrier has come up and our vision is clouded. Since most of us react about every five minutes, it's obvious that most of the time life is clouded over for us. We are caught within our own selves, we're caught in this barrier.

forget for a moment, the threatening initiation of this defense. consider only, as i was forced to, the barrier. i said at one point,

i'm walled in and can't get out.

because i could no more force myself to see beyond the barrier than a fish can live on land. it just wasn't happening. so i stayed with it. i languished. it wasn't wallowing, i wasn't berating myself, i was just watching things going through my head, hearing the past chime in, the future, for me is easier to keep out, i tend to be very now, but even the past wasn't so painful as it had been. that could be considered triumph if i hadn't had the awfulness of the present moment to contend with.

what i came to understand through the course of that most difficult night, was that sometimes, other will press in. sometimes, other will want to engage, even see you through the mindfields. :) i like that word. it felt a lot like that this weekend. like i was navigating my past, my habits, my defaults.

perhaps, having navigated them, and mind you, i've come to no resolution about the insult (or perceived threat), i have merely begun to be released from the stranglehold of my coping mechanisms. will i do better next time. i sure hope so. but we'll see. karma, threat, growth, all have their uncomfortable moments. my boss has said,

if you're not uncomfortable, you're not growing.

well folks, i'm growing. that's all i can say.

unsupported

2011-11-29T16:14:00.000-08:00

it occurred to me while i was napping this afternoon that the majority of the word unsupported is supported. i aspire to be unsupported, to attain that, somehow, but i realize it is a complex matrix of support which leads to moments of un.

today in yoga, i was in bridge position, laying flat on my back with my knees bent, arms flat to my sides pressing into the mat. the first time we went up, i could feel the urge to go into a full backbend. so, without hesitation, i did. i flipped my arms back over my shoulders and up she went. i didn't stay there long. it was my first unassisted backbend of my entire life, so, i thought it best to take it slow.

i spent a bit of time this weekend draped backwards over a pilates ball. rolling back and forth, first my feet losing touch with the ground then my hands. something about this practice made me want to do the full backbend. and so i did.

my friends remind me to take care of myself, to reach out when i need to and ask for support. i'm not always the best at saying,

spot me.

but i think they can see when i'm floundering.

after we devoured my bestie's scrumptious persian turkey stew with walnuts and pomegranate, served with decadent home made cranberry sauce over persian rice, i began to slump in my chair. she sent me directly to bed with my partner accompanying me and the instructions,

do whatever it takes to make her fall asleep.

the mandated nap ended, and i settled into the couch between my loved ones. i've been working a lot these past weeks, but i'm in a new job, with many demands, and i'm trying to keep a roof over mine and my daughter's heads. sometimes it feels like the weight of the world.

but it is a delightful feeling, making ones own way in the world. attaining those un moments. i realize, they are within grasp only after i've been fully supported by life, by love, by the universe. the un moments are not where any of us live. they are the moments of the small child bouncing on the trampoline, the high flying moments of wonder. all that is required is a trampoline to propel one to such heights, and wonder ensues.

i feel a bit like that in my life at the moment. a lot more joy than i've ever known. a lot more presence and goodness. i'm still learning how to write about it.

seems i have about five readings fleshing out through the spring and i'm looking forward to them. reading is definitely my bliss. the moment of wonder entirely. the un moment.

in the meantime, i manage the city every weekend, sometimes finding myself surrounded by those i love most.

supported.

floor me

2011-10-14T13:53:00.001-07:00

next week, we won't even get off the floor,

sophie said, as if it was some kind of consolation for the upright twisting and turning she was putting us through.

true enough, we stayed on our mats the entire time. but she twisted our guts till they felt like they would shoot out our nostrils. i wonder if everyone else feels like a rusty folding chair threatening to snap. or is it just me.

though i am stretching deeper, seeing progress.

my mind has been a whirling dervish of late and i only wish it was to rapturous effect. but not so much. so today, as i fitfully woke from my fitful sleep, i found my way to nurture me, a hot salted bath with oils, lit candles and silence. just looking out the window at the trees.

i'm grateful,

that was all i said in that moment, i listed off everything, even the things that might not seem such a gift, but in reality they are, i'm grateful for it all.

i then, soaked and oiled, went and enjoyed a nice cup of japanese tea on the porch with my neighbor. i asked how he keeps his calm peaceful demeanor. he enlightened me.

positive mental attitude. after i learned that, i was never the same.

yes,

i told him about the internal climate.

we sat in the haze of a moderate fall day and spoke to the neighbors passing by, the landlord stopped to feed the cats, another neighbor brought me an article about teaching she thought might interest me.

it seemed the world converged and smiled upon that brief spot in the sun today.

and when it ended, i came inside and waded through the pile of dishes, found my way to the library, and retrieved my child to convey her to stage crew. she's there now, every day for a month or so, building a set for the coming play.

when her chosen school club was cancelled, i ordered her to join

something, anything,

and this is what she came up with. she said to me last night,

i'm glad i joined. it's fun.

i'm glad she joined too. it makes my heart happy to see her making her way in the world. to know she is making choices that will better her.

the rain is letting up, i was sitting out on the porch with the other neighbor who sits the evening shift, until the rains started drenching us. we ran inside, to our respective caves, and i'm certain we'll wander out again. i don't let a lot of people in, close to me, to witness my life.

they seem me come and go, they offer kindness, which i'm grateful to receive, and today, i realized, i need them. they are my neighbors. never really known my neighbors, till now. it's nice.

temple

2011-10-06T12:10:00.000-07:00

i walked into yoga with sophie today, it was lovely, she's so kind. i said to her,

i really enjoy your class.

i don't often speak to her because i can be mostly shy particularly around people i really like. go figure.

and she said,

thank you.

i went on to tell her,

it feels like.

and i paused while i thought about it.

temple.

she smiled. and we walked inside.

today has been a tough day. but not unseasonably tough, just tough in that i am learning new lessons, trying my wings. tottering on a very high wire and am not sure i know how to get down.

sophie had us in eagle pose at one point and we corkscrewed our arms and legs, then she had us hinge at the waist while we stood on one foot and sight our prey.

go after what you want, the eagle has no enemies.

when you spot your prey,

she said,

unfurl your wings and take it.

it was a beautiful lesson i needed to live today.

i am learning a great deal. wanting to perform the tasks at hand and broaden my repertoire. so yesterday when asked if i wanted to go to the beach, i said,

yes.

i knew it would involve stripping and throwing myself in the water, but i did it anyway. the water was freezing. i needed to do that, experience it.

sometimes it is easy to stay home, stay safe, stay out of harm's way. but lately life has been calling me to grow. this growth involves pain, i believe all growth involves pain.

pain is not always the enemy.

we tweaked into pidgeon pose, a prone position pose where your leg, let's say your left leg draws up toward your chest, and your knee goes toward your left wrist, and your ankle toward your right wrist. your right leg is outstreched behind you with toes flat on the mat, then you rest your body, hips balanced evenly over your splayed body. sophie said,

surrender to the screaming hip.

that is what it felt like. i have to, on occasion, surrender. my mind doesn't know what is best for me in most instances, but my instinct, that core of my being, does. i am not always the quickest at interpreting these signs, and i have to depend heavily on trust. trust that there is some plan. some way things work out for the highest possible good for all involved.

i am trying to learn and grow. i can ask only for the strength of will and mind to be open to new ideas, to suggestions, to keep surrendering to the screaming hip and staying with what will ultimately better me.

i will say this, i saw marked progress in my life today. in a way that i could not have measured by other than adversity. that is the boon of unexpected turbulence. you get to ride it out, to learn how to navigate through stormy weather, and to find, that the sun rises and sets, the clouds break and goodness does prevail. eventually.

hello jello

2011-09-30T14:51:00.001-07:00

last night's yoga class was subbed by john. john is amazingly athletic. when we were standing outside one woman asked me if i knew what he was like,

he's athletic

i said.

how do you teach athletic yoga

she asked.

you'll see,

i said. and left it at that. went and tucked myself into my favorite dark corner and stretched out.

as we were limping and gimping toward the door after class, i passed her and said,

see what i mean.

yes,

she replied and laughed.

at one point during class when john was putting us through the pasta maker of a routine he dreamed up, i said,

i never thought i'd be so glad to go into plank.

i hate plank. it is hard. but after he is through with his vinyasa torture, plank feels like a walk in the park.

i attempted crow, but was more like hopping baby chick than crow. my pigeon was more lopsided than ever, and he came up and gently moved my lower back so my hips were centered and floating. it was a graceful adjustment. he doesn't adjust much, but by that point in class, i was oozing all over the mat and completely out of form.

it was good though. i came home tired of mind and body.

sometimes that is what is needed most.

good for who

2011-09-28T17:02:00.000-07:00

tonight sophie says,

doesn't that feel good

as we are twisted in some pretzel the likes of which this body has never seen or been before. i let out a laughing gasp, it was all i could muster, and the rest of the class snickered. my body felt like it was going to snap from the tension, but i just tried to breathe and stay with it.

at one point she even said we could put our leg behind our head if we wanted. wanted isn't exactly the word i'd use. again, i laughed. she said,

i've seen someone put both legs behind their head.

i am grateful to just make it through a class and be in proper form, the flexibility will come, is coming. but, like all good things, it takes time.

her classes are packed, except the night classes, so i'm going to do the night classes. i got nothing going on at night anyway. no problem there. plus, i get all my obligations out of the way in the harsh light of day. that works for me.

my life has fallen into a particular cadence that i'm beginning to let myself enjoy. i have to trust this is really, truly my life. that there is no turbulence up ahead, the captain has turned off the seatbelt sign and i am free to move about the cabin.

the wonderful thing is, i have the people around me that i love. my friendships are solid. my family is healthy. i couldn't ask for more. i am not asking for more. i'm just grateful.

there is so much coming up, very soon, that i need to establish some rhythm to my life now. now is my chance to find my stride. if i don't, i am not sure how i'll manage. i haven't yet found that flamenco class, but i'm sure it's there, someone will know where to send me. they always do.

the thing about it is, we don't need to know the path until we are ready to embark upon it. i may not yet be ready, but then again, i may.

i've spent a lot of time of late finishing books, purging excess from my life, cleaning my apartment. i'm beginning to feel some semblance of peace in my life. nothing weighing me down. trying to just feel that. to experience it. to know that this is really my life. i'm grateful to not have to struggle in the ways i did in the past, i want to never forget those times. they keep me humble. and today, as i was talking to my mom i realized, i was once the thorn in someone else's side that may be stuck in mine. leave it at that.

yes, it all comes around and goes around.

today dr. clarissa pinkola estes reminded me again of my true language. symbology. i had forgotten. sometimes i have to retrace my steps to be reminded of what would otherwise lie fallow.

i am grateful for this reminder. life is, in fact, in deed, in graciousness, good. it always has been. i just get to experience a little bit of it and hope to be able to share this joy, this peace, this wonder. it is uncharted territory for me. i can't wait to explore.

say what

2011-09-23T14:29:00.000-07:00

what is there to say when good things actually start happening. i am sitting here giddy, i've finally stopped whooping and hollering about the news. it's just so wonderful.

i was just phoned, while i stood in line at the library, and told the news. that was where i let the first whoop slip out. the librarian trying to encourage me to shut up and get off the phone, as i just kept right on beaming and gushing.

please hang up the phone,

she said, though she was already done processing my haul.

i just got into a poetry master class in the city, it's a major deal.

congratulations,

she said. these librarians have seen the stages of my life, the growing of my child, the loss of my long hair, the marriage that ended in divorce, they knew when i was homeschooling and carted away crates of books at a time. and now, they know i have just finished my masters and got my dream job.

it's almost like family, except she just wanted me to shut up and leave.

i am going to have to learn how to write about the good stuff.

believe again

2011-09-21T17:17:00.001-07:00

it seems i keep coming to this place, where i can divorce myself of my heartfelt beliefs or i can hold fast. cling to them as a morning glory does a chain link fence, climbing ever higher, ascending the neighboring tree and sending out a cascade of nurturing blooms, so hummingbirds dart about in the heights, and fat black bees, all crawl in to nectar full bellies and pollen laden legs.

so much beauty.

as i walked home from yoga tonight, in the dark, remembering there is a gorging bear in the area, he frequents the dumpster just outside my front door, imagine it's a black bear, i remembered he was in there, crackling in the underbrush, seeing me, while i could not see him. not only was it dark, i'd left my glasses at home. don't need glasses for yoga. or a phone. so i'm walking in the dark, and a firefly lights up. reminding me of the simple beauty of darkness.

and i went to the garden middday, the garden i've only seen at night, with her. we walked the rows of roses and sat by the fountain, but there was one large white blossom, i could tell it was a nightbloomer. something unafraid of darkness. and i wondered who pollinates it, who delights in its nectar.

so many different flowers that i couldn't see during the night, i could see during the day. i looked into the face of one flower that had a blossom as big as my head. it was gorgeous. that nature just does that. creates beauty for no real reason other than to be lovely.

so tonight sophie was gentle with us, but twisted us to pretzels, which was what i needed, because my back, even now has begun aching again, and i'm not entirely sure why. i realized when i went to cali for a month and didn't do any yoga that i was essentially my worst enemy. now i'm back and not doing as much as i could, getting used to this teaching schedule and all the activities of late, i just haven't made it my priority. but i need to.

so i believe we are here for a reason, in this life, not another. with the people who are surrounding us at this time. i must believe there is a reason and that as our lives unfold, like a beautiful garden in its own right, we will ultimately compliment each other, and learn to live beside one another in beauty.

i believe this. i strive to this end.

and when someone is less than attractive, when i am less than attractive, i try to remember the fallow season comes, the garden must be turned and planted again. the seeds lay low in the darkness, until the fullness of time. and the garden blooms again.

winter is coming. and it will be well. a time of joy and prosperity.

i believe this.

the weight of nothing

2011-09-17T07:24:00.000-07:00

much has changed since last i wrote. literally. i have avoided page and pen in favor of eyes open heart open mind open. there was a lot going on. there still is, but i will attempt to find my way back to word. to that end, i have applied for a master class in the city. hopefully, i will be working on my poetry thesis for the next academic year in preparation for its subsequent publication. that is the plan. in conjunction with that, i will find a flamenco teacher and learn how to dance flamenco. there is one class but it butts right up against the thesis class and i lack the ability to teleport, but i know that when i am ready for it, i will find it. that is how my life works. i step out, the stone appears. not before i need it, not even before i extend my leg, just as i'm about to shift my weight to nothing.

then, the stone, as if it had been there all along, and of course it had, rises to meet my foot, to carry my weight, to further me along in my journey.

yoga was good today, vinyasa has been a challenge for me, but i'm finding i enjoy it more and more. i'm even knowing what comes next. i think that's part of it, not feeling like a complete heel, but moving with the flow. it makes one feel some kind of progress has taken place. and of course, it has.

we did this standing up, lift your right leg up and yoga lock your big toe, then extend your leg straight out while holding your toe with your thumb and index finger. then bow to your knee. a balance pose, i fell out of once, but i so enjoy the new positions. mostly i was able to angle down to the knee, but i haven't fully got the flat chest to thigh flexibility yet. someday.

this summer in california, when my mind was learning how to focus on the moment, in spite of the headlines (my own personal headlines, not the news, i don't watch the news), i had been applying for every job conceivable. trying to market myself. i'm not good at marketing myself. so, one day i applied for about a hundred jobs with this quick apply thing and it was so rediculous that i started laughing and i quit chasing after jobs. i just knew that i would have a job when i came back. i had written down what i needed in a job and was trusting that i would get it.

this is where the mind wanted to buck and spin wildly out of control. i cried some, i doubted some, i trusted more. i wrote a list of what i wanted in a job. pay rate, being able to take my daughter to her bus stop every morning, driving distance, dress code. i am never gonna be a dress to the nines kinda gal. as i said once long ago, i'm maybe a five, maybe that's pushing it. but never a nine.

so, i come home to an interview. i get through the preliminaries of the interview process and get bogged down in the references part. it's amazing how i have to take the SAT and pass with a score of 600 or better in the writing and reading sections, and the references are what held me up. the lady said,

do you want time to study,

i said,

no, let's just get the test over with.

either i was going to pass or not. true to form, i took the test, passed, and was ready for the next stage. well, life happens. one of my references never phoned in.

in the meantime, a friend told me about a job posting she had seen and i applied, post haste before taking the girls to a concert in central park. panic at the disco, incase you're wondering. the concert was lovely, and i knew i was going to get a call. i woke up tuesday morning and said to my lover,

i'm going to get a call today and i'm going to get the job.

sure enough, later that day i got the phone call.

let me tell you what we need,

she said.

the class starts tomorrow.

fine!

i said,

i'm so excited.

and i went in for an interview. she liked me so much she gave me two courses in stead of the usual one. she said,

i can tell you can handle it.

i said,

anything you need. i am available.

that's good to hear,

she said. and proceeded over the course of the next couple days to give me substitute jobs and an additional semester class. so instead of just one class, i have three. i hope for a fourth as things are still being ironed out in our department.

i am now an adjunct professor of english and teaching three classes. it's a wonder. a joy. i love it. it is my dream job. the kids (i know they are college aged adults, but i still call them kids), the kids are delightful. i can demystify the english language, the writing process and i can help them achieve their goals.

all told, i applied for the job on thursday, interviewed the following tuesday, and was teaching wednesday morning. that is how my life happens. without exception. i found i needed to withdraw my application at the tutoring gig (where i had to pass the SAT) and resign at the two papers i had been writing for, it was too much running around and i need to focus on my career now. i get to focus on my career now. that is the joy of it. i am in the door. miraculously.

what i could have met with dread during the summer, the thought of this time in my life, has become the best time of my life. dread wouldn't have prepared me for this season, only trust. only peace. i am grateful for this season, for the harvest that has come from the years of toil. that i have grown up.

what have i done

2011-08-08T13:50:00.001-07:00

today has been one of those, wtf days. i called a friend and cried,

my life is ridiculous.

she said,

no it's not.

and proceeded to list the ways in which my life, in fact, matters very much.

this, is how friends have kept me afloat my entire life. when i'm foundering on the rocks, certain of imminent doom, my friends, my loved ones, say,

no, look. just there, help is on the way.

their eyes can see where i have lost the vision. they remember my course when the navigation has failed me and i no longer remember what the journey was about.

i get on a train in a few short hours, and meet up with another friend, someone who has brightened my life with her love. i will rest in her arms, and spend the night in her home, and trust the balm of affection to soothe me. weary am i.

there are a lot of things for me to figure out, some of them i am told to just walk away from. and i will, i am trying. but in the meantime, i stack the stones i've gathered along the path, and they seem like nothing. that is, until my friends come along and stack their stones with mine, and that amounts to something. together, i am reminded of who i am. who they are. why we are together for this journey. and it begins to make sense again.

trust is what it amounts to.

trust that help is on the way.

beach!

2011-08-02T07:18:00.000-07:00

since last week's impromptu beach trip went so well, we're off to the beach again, sans stuff. we'll return home hungry and tired and that will be good for everyone.

my daughter is here now, so it will be nice to see her out and about at the beach, there are some tidepool caves i've yet to explore and i hope to get to that today. i need an adventure.

i'm reading a book called, a secret sadness, which has proven to be very enlightening.

there are a lot of things that i'm trying to change in my life at the moment. not trying, so much as, believing will change. my relationship patterns are on that list.

the thing about relationships is, they are complex. they involved people. there is no mold or copy you can follow, you just have to follow your heart. at least i know how to do that. but i would like to establish different patterns in that heart response than i've been inclined to follow in the past. i'm ready for my life to change.

so, i'm ingesting a lot of information here, which is good. i haven't had time to read for leisure in about three years. i am making up for lost time. still wading through thoughts without a thinker, which is also an excellent book.

my sister bought this book at my behest and i hope to read it before i leave. it looks like something that would interest me.

plus i still have one more from the library of my own that i have yet to make a serious dent in. but this is the joy of vacation, much time to read.

the weather out here has been lovely, last week after tuesday it was too cool to go to the beach, we were wearing sweaters. but it has warmed up again and so, off we go. my mom visits tomorrow. that will be nice, hopefully she will have my aunt in tow.

my nee is up, time to get moving into my day.

thank you

2011-08-01T09:57:00.000-07:00

i say it alot. i mean it. i'm grateful for everything. for the love of friends, for the kindness of strangers. for the bump in the road that makes me pay more attention because my mind wandered.

so i'm finding myself in a place where i look to the multiplicitous effects of gratitude. the a few loaves and fishes points in the road where we must share what we have and trust what we need will be shared in turn.

that is always the trick, not hoarding. not amassing stuff.

i am acutely aware of this place, this crossroads in my life, the tin can outstretched and me holding my last coin. do i drop it in or hoard it.

sometimes i drop it in, sometimes i don't. but i always get the chance to face the can again. to make the choice.

times like now make me wonder if this kind of feeling, this kind of angst in my life is what fuels my writing. do i need trials to write. is it part of my process. is that gritty sadness all i will ever write about. i hope not. i want to progress. to change my stars.

the only way i can conceive of doing this is to be grateful for what i've got. the bad and good stuff. the lonely nights and the overabundant days. they are where i'm at today. and so, when i drop into bed bone weary, and rise before i want to, i trust it is for a reason. there is a point to this dance.

i don't understand it. i don't pretend to.

but i come again to the point of letting go. of resisting the urge to cling.

there are poems i must write, but i've never been the kind of writer who formulates a plan. and so, i've watched through my days for the whispered words in my ear, listened for the glimpse of a poem, but none has come.

i understand in some ways i have been afraid of what will come and that has never been the case before. i have always let myself just go with it. but i'm not going with it anymore. trying to change my life. but maybe that's the problem. i'm focusing on it too much and getting lost in the process of change.

i have sat down with my journal a couple times. jotted down a few things, nothing poetic, just my thoughts. but it's nice to not have to force myself to poetry. poetry must be allowed to come of its own accord. poetry must flow. no grasping. and these are the moments i wonder if i'll ever write again.

i know i will. i look at this last book and remember when it was just a title in my mind. i told her the name of it and she said,

yes.

i told her the name of this next book and she said,

wow.

it will come. and i will be grateful when it does.

on tap

2011-07-30T10:00:00.000-07:00

big family picnic today, we're slowly pulling it together to eventually make an appearance. how long that appearance will last is the question. i imagine we'll have an enjoyable time once we get there, if we ever get there. and my nephew is packing a thousand water balloons just to keep things interesting.

i haven't seen my closest family in three years, haven't seen everyone else in at least ten, maybe longer. probably my wedding which was fifteen maybe sixteen years ago now, i forget.

how life goes by, we change and grow. i'm grateful for this, in some ways it's an opportunity for a new beginning.

i told my girl, after bickering with her a bit last night that i probably had one more time of threatening to ship her back to her dad before she got over it. she said,

no you won't, you missed me too much.

the bummer is, i wore a necklace of hers with venus symbols and i lost it at the airport when i went to get her. i'm was so bummed about this, and fixated on it, because i was going to return it to her and checked my purse (i took it off at secruity) and it wasn't there. so picking up my kid cost me a necklace, but she didn't care.

don't worry about it,

she said. i hadn't asked to wear the necklace and then i went and lost it. my bare neck still pains me, but i have her. i woke up early and just watched her sleeping for a while.

it is so good to have her here with me again. my heart is whole again. my heart is whole.

so for two more weeks, i am going to be here, with my family, with my girl. friends plan on visiting and since so much has changed in my life, i'm pretty locked into being at the mercy of visitors. my one friend is coming in from arizona to spend a weekend here and i told her i would spend as much time with her as she'd like, and she said,

all of it.

so, hopefully, we'll have a lot of time to connect. she is the one i belly danced for in arizona on her fortieth birthday. what a riot that was.

my best friend from high school lives out here and i will hopefully get to see her too. another friend from college, a masseuse, whom i may or may not see, lives so near it kills me not to see her. but as i said, life has changed the way things are going down out here.

it's all good. i'm grateful. staying in the moment. being with those i'm with and loving them the best i can.

it has been a hard road getting here, but today it seemed okay. like it was all, every bit of it, going to work out.

it always does.

au naturale

2011-07-28T08:57:00.001-07:00

so i've been communicating with someone who expressed an interest in getting to know me and when her list of requirements included

waxes eyebrows

i flatly said,

um, so not me.

it's interesting the kinds of things that repel or attract people. i don't understand it. but i do understand fussing over my eyebrows has never been part of my schtick. and it never will be. not for anyone.

believe me, i have enough hair to tame without finding places to meddle. lovely visual, ha.

anyway, life is too short to have to maintain imposed standards. i feel that way about writing too. i think that is why residency was such a challenge for me. but, at least, i finally got to show my stuff. i got to stand up there and do what i do, and was told i

brought down the house.

this pleases me.

this is a picture of me before my reading, i wore my daughter's knee high converse to feel her near. she will be here tomorrow. so excited!

but now in real life, i have to figure out how to navigate my path. i've chosen the path of most resistance, and, well, no one is to blame but me. but i don't know that i would ever have been able to choose differently. it is who i am. i swim up stream. bottom line.

and finally, a picture of me after graduating. i'm coming to the conclusion, life is not an mfa program. which is a joyous and sad conclusion. i didn't think i would miss having to jump through hoops. the imposed community. the total lack of self-navigation. but i'm coming to appreciate the freedom the program being over has given me. i can do as i will. sink or swim. it is time for me to chart my own course, navigate by my own stars.

i am free. and always have been.

internal weather

2011-07-27T11:16:00.000-07:00

i'm reading a book called awakening the buddha within. it is profound. today i read about how we create our own internal climate and stress, tension, and fear. these are all things we do to ourselves.

huge revelation.

i had known that about stress, but i had never made the connection with tension and fear. though i think fear can be reactionary at some level and so am not completely sold on the idea of fear being entirely self-induced, though i do lean more toward believing it than not.

went to the beach yesterday, we needed a change of scenery, so we loaded up the car and kids and spent a delightful day at the beach, impromptu. not carrying a lot of crap, not staying overlong, but just long enough for everyone to get hungry, burnt and tired. all of us got burned, yes, even me. i, who never burn.

anyway, it was wonderful.

today, we've spent the day cleaning the house, everyone, even the three year old twins were sweeping and dusting, all hands on deck and the place looks pretty good. so now it's on to other projects, sewing, job apps, that sort of thing. the way i start my day anymore, i spend a lot of time applying for jobs. my dear aquarian best friend breaks it down for me,

it's a numbers game. just do it, don't get emotionally involved.

i'm pisces, hello. everything involves emotion for me.

but maybe that is my problem. i'm trying to be less emotionalistic, yet, more in tune. tough line to walk.

today is a great day, particularly compared to the past week. one of the things my sister and i realized is that the way we approach things, look at trials has a lot to do with where the head is at. the emotions follow the head.

just got this picture of myself with my group of poets and it was a delightful residency with respect to the chemistry of our critique group. we got along well. not perfectly, but nothing too dramatic.

and of course, in retrospect, it was marvelous.

i look forward to the next phase of my life beginning. but for now, in two days my daughter will arrive and my heart will be whole.

after that, i will enjoy my last two weeks here and then begin to figure out what to do next.

at home in new york, who knows what will happen. i look forward to the unfolding mystery.

ill tidings

2011-07-25T08:07:00.000-07:00

the morning carries with it some unfavorable news. news which can send me reeling into realms of the heart and mind that are scary at best, but my task today is, to remain in today. to believe it will be well. that which i need is coming to me.

i am trying to let go of things that must be released. trying to ground myself in the moment, in this day. but i admit, it's terrifying.

so, i will feel the abject terror of it, and move forward.

i have no answers. that is the bottom line. as much as i try to formulate answers, they do not mean anything when i can finally articulate them.

so, my task then. be present. enjoy the moment. let tomorrow settle itself. that is all that can be done at times like these.

and i must remind myself my daughter arrives friday. that is cause for celebration. she's been away too long. it was a necessary absence, but i am ready for her return.

it will be well,
i believe this.

riddle me this

2011-07-23T08:21:00.000-07:00

in the mysterious way life works, things are still plugging along. i try not to succumb to the swirl of confusion about me. i try to just keep steady. this morning, it feels manageable. i'm grateful for this.

i'm not sure if it is because i'm uprooted at the moment, visiting the place where i originated, or what, but i'm sorely lacking in comfort. and i'm trying to abide in the midst of that. comfort can be a distraction too.

so i take a deep breath, try to do something other than pay attention to the whirring of my mind, and be present to those around me. i love them. i never see them, i need to check in.

my aunt and mom came to visit yesterday. it was such a surprise seeing my aunt, i even snapped a picture. she who does not let others take her picture, didn't balk too much at me capturing her. through the years all we have is an arm, or back, rarely a posed shot. this was hardly a posed shot, but i was bound and determined to get one. and i did.

it was as if i was looking at myself years down the road. she is darker skinned than i, and i held her when we said hello. it was nice to be together again. she was a fixture in my life until i married.

my mom is my mom. i love her. she was generous when i showed her the latest poem i'd written about our childhood which includes some images of her. she didn't scold me, she just laughed. i was grateful for that. i really expected a scolding. but i wouldn't have let it change a thing, i think she knows that by now. i just needed her to know it was there. i'm not into hiding things. and so it was the first thing i did, show her the poem.

my professor, and everyone else, really like that poem. they say, you're taking risks,

i told her.

she just listened.

i was glad they were here. glad they came to see me.

i spent a bit of time alone on thursday, walking down laguna beach. i needed the quiet, the alone time to clear my head. i have a lot to process at the moment. i saw three dolphins playing in the surf off the shore, and the boogey boarders were having a blast. the waves were crashing pretty strong, so i only went in about three times to cool down and continued my sojourn south.

i would like to say i know what is coming and how. i would like to say a lot of things. but they just aren't true. i am as uninformed as the next guy. we are all just sojourners here. and i think the goal is to enjoy the journey.

and while i whittle down the days until my daughter's arrival, i try to focus on the tasks at hand. to be present. i haven't done so well. i've been troubled. but i will try again today.

and it will be well.

how will it

it's a mystery.

better day

2011-07-21T09:53:00.000-07:00

yesterday is over, thankfully. i had to endure it. it was a very long day.

sometimes the lows must, wait, always the lows must be endured like turbulence in a plane. there is no option to get out of turbulence, you must ride it out.

and so i did.

today, i sat in the garden with my sister and she read to me. a hawk landed on the wire and the chickens and ducks, scrambled behind us for safety. we watched the hawk circle and scare up a few crows.

after turning and watering the compost, i did the dishes, made breakfast and now i'm ready to go to the beach. to be delivered to the shores of the pacific where i will wander lonely as a cloud. it will settle me. i can talk with my grams there.

and when the tide recedes, i get a glimpse of her, of something familiar. the scampering sandpipers, the crying gulls. the glint of the sun on the ocean.

when the waters lick the shore, i play at their edge, am reminded of so many things that come and go. reminded how to let go. to be still in a moment while everything shifts around.

i find myself amidst wildly shifting sands, more along the lines of a sandstorm in the sahara, but maybe that's just my perception. i am trying to remember to ground, to still, to center myself.

but today, i could use a hand from nature. cleo bunny has been incredible therapy for me. she licks me when i hold her. the chickens lay down on their bellies around my feet as i sat with them yesterday. it made me smile, that even though i feel my energy is erratic at the moment, that these peaceful creatures could come stave off some of my errant energy.

seeing my mom tomorrow. i hope i can keep from telling her my girl is coming. i want it to be a surprise. but i also want to share that joy with her, that my girl is coming to california.

yesterday was a big day for me, in that i made a lot of personal decisions that i hope will manifest goodness. i had this free falling feeling after the choices were made, but there is no turning back, no stopping the descent when one begins the journey down to the underworld.

the fall has stopped, but the terrain has changed, and i seek to navigate by my own compass.

om mani padme hum

sounds in the inner chambers of my heart at the moment.

it will be well. it will all be well.

i trust this.

betting hedges

2011-07-20T10:29:00.001-07:00

hedging bets, whatever. i'm not into it. i'd rather end up with my own issues at the end of following my instict than to lure someone or something along to make me safe, to keep me safe. to try to attain safety, which, i've come to discover, is not a static thing. safety is more of a state of being.

a line in one of my poems says it best,

i can wait out the storm in the safety of myself.

yes, that's it. much as i hate quoting myself, sometimes i've already said what i'm trying to say, no point in trying to reframe it in words.

but i'm feeling the urge, the need to write again, and that's good. writing grounds me.

i want what others want, i just don't want it in the way they do. i've had the family, the marriage, the child. now i need to find peace, peace which includes a place for my child. she is a part of me, a large part of me. there is no peace for me without her.

she has been away from me for about a month, or it will be just over when she arrives in california to be here with me for my last two weeks. i spent every free cent i had to secure her arrival, but i would do it again in a heartbeat. i missed her, it was as if i was inhabiting two coasts. the heart cannot be so divided for long.

i am counting down the days till her arrival. and she was going to be brave,

to stick it out,

as she put it. but i said,

no, come. we all want to see you.

and when i called her and told her she was flying out next friday, she let out a

whoo hoo!

which made me happy. i could hear her joy.

her dad must resign himself to this fact, as she is a young lady now, and her cousins, teenagers, are going to be more interesting to her than being home with a parent. sadly.

it's not about what we want so much anymore, though, i'm grateful she's coming to me. that my heart will be housed under the same roof again. it's about what is best for her. i am reminded of this, in so many of the choices i've been presented with of late, this has been my utmost consideration, however it has looked.

one of my friends gave me a stern talking to about not prioritizing her, but she is all i prioritize. i think of nothing else but her, when she is under someone else's watchful eye, i relax my stance for awhile. single parents are not often afforded the luxury of inattention. so when i have the chance, i relish it.

i have lived fully in her absence. though i live fully in her presence, i'm glad, so grateful she is coming to be with me.

she is what matters.

and i trust that which needs to happen, will.

now to find a real job.

obliging cleo

2011-07-19T09:39:00.000-07:00

after finishing residency with an amazing reading, i returned home to send my sister back to cali and get my life sorted out for my return.

my reading ended up being as i expected, while i messed up twice, it didn't halt me, i just kept plugging along. ultimately, the reading was about me and my girl, our journey these past two years. leaving my ex. it was well received and many people told me it was amazing. my readings are like that though, it was nice to be present in a moment of time so completely. i owned that room while i was reading and this has been my experience with each of my readings. time halts, i inhabit the words, they are my soul sent out to a group of people. when i was introduced, my professor quoted c.s. lewis, which i found quite fitting. she spoke of soul, which was refreshing. she made me cry. i composed myself and went up to read.

i'm still collecting myself, so i'm sure i'll have a better story to tell at some point. right now, i'm just sharing some pictures.

this poster was at the airport when i was making my connection in dfw, it made me smile. and have a drink! though while i was nursing my mango margarita and texting friends, my flight changed gates, so i went to the gate and there was no flight. i ambled over to where it was taking off, and made it to cali. grateful.

this burger is worth the trip across country! too bad these are only available out here, they are amazing.
i am now in cali, with my sister and her beautiful family. after passing out at 5pm and waking up at 5am

my sister's children are delightful. the twins are bright and beautiful. a bit shy yet, but that will change. her pets have begun to accept my presence, and i'm grateful for the rest. i am trying to lure my daughter out to california, i miss her so. i hope she chooses to make the journey. my entire family wants to see her. and some part of me is missing when she's gone. i wish her here, more than anything. another month without her seems insufferable. unthinkable. it is why i opted to be away rather than home crazy from her absence. i hope she comes to join me. i hope.

as if intuiting my need for touch, companionship of sorts, cleo the bunny lit upon me and sat with me for about two hours. she calmed me, and reminded me, as only creatures can, that it will be well. that life must move forward. and i was grateful for her trust. that she could sit with me a stranger, it was our first meeting. that she could sleep and let me love her.

gotta go, cupcakes!

sake for me

2011-07-15T04:20:00.000-07:00

after downing most of a giant bottle of sake last night, i got through the reading okay. no major breakdowns. a few tears. but friends helped me through. i got some disconcerting news and am trying not to let it sideline me. life happens. every day.

today, i read. but first the three hour workshop where we'll focus on a poem from each of the poets. this can sometimes be brutal. i have been fortunate in that it has not exacted a bloody toll of my confidence. i have been pleasantly surprised that the prof has given me props for my stylistic choices.

why don't you use question marks,

she asked.

i think it is a prose convention. why is the question mark there question mark,

i replied.

whereas in poetry, if i say a question word, what, it is understood that it is a question.

fair enough. you're making rules.

she said.

the bottom line for me now is consistency. i have been told to use more spaces to indicate pauses and breaks and such. i know i need better control over the pacing of my poems and i told them that.

it's very hard,

i said,

to remove all punctuation from poems.

so today, after eight days of workshops and classes, being around writers and crying myself to sleep, i take the podium and show what i've got. of course i'm excited about this. i'm a natural reader. a literary exhibitionist.

i told one woman when we first arrived that i hadn't prepared for my lecture and she, being a public speaking teacher, unbeknownst to me at the time, after my lecture said,

you did prepare.

i told her,

i should have said, i didn't prepare in the manner in which others prepare.

you wounded me,

she said.

i'm sorry.

but we're good now. she's a poet who will likely remain in my life by the sheer forcefulness of her presence. i need bulldoggish people like that who won't scatter at the first sign of my needing space. because i need a lot of space.

i can see that about you,

she said,

that you need to be left alone.

then yesterday, my poetry professor said,

suzanne is being coy. she wants the reader to get it, she hopes the reader will get it but if the reader doesn't get it she won't change a thing. right suzanne?

i laughed,

of course!

i don't know what will come of this. i don't know how it works out. where i will end up. what job is coming to me. but i'm ready to launch out.

and when i saw another poet, ready to quit, two days left in the program, it helped me feel like i am not a lone. not a complete basket case for struggling through this as i have. each residency has been a struggle for me, this one no less. the writing part this time has been joyous.

today we do kissing cobras, a poem of mine that i know could stand some tweaking.

how will it go

i don't know. it's a mystery.

but i trust it will be well. and when i take the podium this afternoon, i know it will be well.

not everyone knows

2011-07-14T03:18:00.000-07:00

i fall apart at night. that i break down and cry, have this entire week. i hope it's not my new normal, because i'm getting tired of it. i have avoided a public show by simply staying in my dorm room and crying. it's pathetic, really.

last night i braved a reading, and the tears just burst out of me like some water main broke. one fiction writer turned to me and asked,

are you okay?

yes,

i replied.

and kept trying to soak up tears that would not stop.

sometimes the tears must come. we're almost through with this process, just a couple more days to navigate. my graduate reading tomorrow. the details of the journey to california will occupy the forefront of my mind, blessed tedium.

i have tried to be honest with myself, and for the most part, i think i have been. hence, the tears.

i've written a few poems. more will come.

but for now, i smile as most people don't know what's going on. the ones who ask nod their heads as i reply. mostly, i'm asked during the day when i'm composed.

then, i can string some words together. not cry.

but the poems in workshop now turn to the matter which is most affecting me and i have to face it. during the day. with all my poet friends looking on.

if i stay silent and breathe, i can probably stave off the tears for the most part. i did yesterday, when the critique of my first poem of this set was met with wonder.

i remember when i wrote it. how wonderful it was.

how wonderful it was.

strangely familiar

2011-07-11T05:12:00.001-07:00

i find myself in dorms i used to know in another capacity, and i'm grateful for the comfort of my sister with me. i'm consciously disconnecting from this place, transitioning on to the next phase of my life, but trying not to opt out of being here completely. though it is tempting.

tears always come to me here, the presence of so many people, the conversations, the evaluation of works, of workshops, of schedules. last night was no different. and my sister reports my wimpering in my sleep.

that's how i was feeling,

i replied.

it is time to move forward. in every sense.

yesterday, walking with my sister through the field, she said, as i'm clamboring loudly through the grass,

stop! look!

and i stopped short, one leg up in the air, and began turning my head to get a glimpse of whatever it was she was gawking at.

not thirty feet in front of us, on a bench we were sitting on the day before, sat a hawk. one foot up, completely relaxed. i recognized the speckled plumage as that of a youngster, he must have recently fledged because he was nonplussed by our presence. as if he didn't yet know how terrible humans are, or can be. and i am grateful for that gentle unknowing.

in that way, i hope he knew us, that we were not to be feared, because we weren't.

so we snapped a few pictures of him, and edged closer, then sat in front of him and watched.

ultimately he flew off. and we went to get our lunch. on the way back we searched but could not find him. so we sat on the bench he had occupied.

i saw a hawk flutter in the trees and we watched it fly down to the grass behind us. then we noticed the fledgie on the ground. wings agape, tail feathers spread. the momma hawk seemed to be nudging it to get it to fly.

it's hurt,

my sister said.

no, let's just watch. we don't want to spook her or she'll abandon him.

so we watched him resist her persistent nudging. we could just imagine her motherly internal dialogue,

FLY ALREADY, there are people watching.

but fledgie preferred to run into the bushes than fly. he even lolled onto his side a couple times when she came at him. he was not going to move.

ultimately, he did move. they both flew some, but we sat with the fledgie for hours. HOURS.

he rested in a tree, and we perched on the grass beneath him. we couldn't get very good pictures because they blend in so well. but there we were, less than thirty feet from one hawk, on occasion two.

it was the kind of safari i needed to rejuvenate me.

and then, ultimately, we came back to the dorms. where i cried. and read. and slept. and wimpered through the night.

but i'm awake now. it's all okay. everything is going to be okay.

i believe this.

objective five

2011-07-08T21:47:00.000-07:00

having finally finished my graduate lecture, and in spite of my av presentation being lost in translation, literally, i had a few celebratory drinks. my sister went home with my ex, and i fell asleep early. now it's past midnight and i'm awake. not wide awake, just awake.

life last week versus life this week. night and day.

each moment i seem to have a new realization of what a horrible job packing i did. some of what i thought i packed for residency is packed for cali, which only further complicates things. but yesterday was fun. tiring, but fun.

back up to objective three, returning the rental car. my pony, it seems has finally succumbed to some serious issues, and is in the shop getting a transmission rebuild. i had to race around and figure out how to get my sister from newark airport, how to get us to boston, how to get us home again, while having my pony serviced back in ny. it has been non stop.

life was distilled down to a list of objectives. objective one. get to newark. objective two, get to massachusets. objective three, return rental car. it was the only way i could manage what was beginning to feel like chaos.

then my sister and i walk around boston and i don't realize how tired i will be, until i have to stay up until 11pm preparing for my lecture, then wake up at 5:30 am, and continue preparing. but my lecture went real well, those who attended said they were glad they did. i hope to have gifted these writers with something they can use.

i feel as if there is now a respite, that the whirlwind which has carried me will settle for a few days. i have no particular agenda, no list of things to do, until friday when i have my graduate reading. what to read is settled, i just have to time it.

tomorrow starts the round of workshops in earnest, we had a rare free day from workshops since our prof will be arriving saturday. i'm grateful for that. though there are so many of us graduating, and the pressure is off, so it's nice being here. i'm finding connections to a lot of people i haven't had so much luck getting to know until now.

objective five, may or may not have been my graduate lecture. but it is done now. i am mostly recovered from the exhaustion of getting here, and soon, i'll drift off to sleep again only to awake and reenter residency life in heart and mind.

but for now, in the stillness of my dorm room, i realize what the exhaustion has masked and i'm grateful for it all.

what's this

2011-06-28T13:04:00.000-07:00

there is a feeling i'm trying to sit with, something i don't like and don't want to entertain, but it's on my plate, it's staring in my eyes. and i'm trying not to flinch.

sometimes i lose the path, can't see for the fog, am wandering. this, perhaps, is one of those times. and i just have to ride it out.

i'm accomplishing tasks, but it's not the tasks i'm talking about. it's the abiding peace i lack.

i sat at the mechanics today, i risked missing yoga to go get my oil change, and miss yoga i did. i've missed a lot of yoga lately, and i'm feeling it. not just physically, but spiritually.

i sat there, reading a book and trying to be present to the wait at the mechanic's. i needed to take care of my car just as i need to take care of my mind and body. so, i tried to just breathe and be patient. that was tough and i jumped the gun once and told the guy,

it's done.

it wasn't. he didn't get irritated, i was grateful.

i went back to sitting and waiting, trying not to complain. trying to just be at peace with where i was at. i don't think one needs a cathedral or a particular setting to enter into a spiritual transaction. i think those are everywhere to be had. the trick is, realizing it.

so i settled back into the ergonomic metal bench and tried to mind my posture. something i thought i was very good about, but realize, since yoga, that i don't have good posture--or great posture. i'm not slouching, but i'm not elongating either. so i stretched my heart up toward the ceiling and felt the curve of my back receive the metal support of the bench and sat there focusing on the words which were also telling me to focus on the moment.

the signs are everywhere, yet i keep trying other roads, different paths. i don't know what it will take to wake me up. i thought i was awake, but now i wonder.

much is ready to change in my life. i'm on a great precipice, and the time is nearing for me to launch out. this is the birth canal. these are scary times in one sense, in that i'm leaving the comfort of a womb i've known, and entering a world unknown. in the best scenario there will be a guide, some motherly figure to ease the transition. but i don't know who that could possibly be. or are some birth canals leading to places where we are unassisted. that can't be right. i think we get the help we need.

today as i walked to the river, greggy, the cat followed me. he rubs up against me as i sit, and i take great comfort from this. i'm not the best cat owner, not the best mom, not the best anything. but i am here, present to the awful and the joyous. alive and free. experimenting and growing. it is the best i can do.

my girl is gone and that is disconcerting to me, but i know these separations, all separations are necessary.

i am trying not to long for reunion but to welcome the discomfort of absence, it helps me to realize what i have when it is in my arms.

so teetering i go, on shaky feet, but going nonetheless. i am trusting that i will know what to do next. that the universe will make a way and provide. with the abandon and openness of a child, i sit with this discomfort and try not to turn away.

hack job

2011-06-17T04:42:00.000-07:00

it was ill conceived, perhaps, but then again, what isn't. i don't live my life in a contemplative way in the sense that i ponder the outcome of things. because one can never know the outcome of things. one can project an outcome, but i just dive in and see what happens.

so i finally convince my kid i can do as good or better a job cutting her hair as the hairstylist we've been to twice trying to get it right.

i didn't use good scissors, we were on the front porch and it was dark, these are not indicators of success.

but we were laughing, loud. i had to stop cutting many times because it was so funny. the neighbor pulled in and said,

you aren't allowed to have that much fun.

and we just kept laughing. (she trusts me, poor child.)

what she wanted was a hairstyle she saw in anime. and so, i knew i could do it, those styles are drawn jagged anyway, so why not, i figured, if nothing else, it will be jagged.

she finally let me do it, last night, and then when we came inside in the light (note to self: don't cut hair in the dark), she was saying,

fix it!

because it was, um, uneven. she was laughing when she said this, mind you, if nothing else she has as strange a sense of humor as i do. i love that kid.

well, i did fix it, and i said,

it will be fine. the difference between a bad hair cut and a good hair cut is two weeks. it will be fine.

that is how i live my life, the it will be fine mantra.

and mind you, i didn't cut her hair because i lacked the funds, i have taken her to more salons in the past year than i care to mention, and spent more money on extensions and color, cuts and styling, than i ever spent on myself at that age. seriously!

but what i noticed was the stylist lacked a certain bravado.

i've got bravado in spades, what i lack is the ability to style.

but it's a cartoon drawing hair cut, i mean, come on. bravado is required.

so i chopped off her hair at the hairline, and jutted severely down to the front. which is what she wanted all along.

i was mildly concerned when she hopped in the shower, but i just knew it would work out.

and this morning, when she woke up, her hair was fine. it looked great.

i straightened it for her, and off she went to school, sporting her new hack job.

i should probably buy a pair of shears.

fly

2011-06-16T07:49:00.000-07:00

sophie reminds me to fly. she says,

in our culture it's all about the bottom line, but i want you to open your arms, open your heart and look up. we don't do this enough anymore. people used to throw their arms up to celebrate or receive.

and it occurred to me, she's right.

i got the image of a child throwing their arms up to be lifted either to a place of safety or joy, depending on the situation.

so we stand and she says,

find your shiva foot, grab your toes and extend your arms to the side. fly!

i can do balance poses with relative ease, and this one felt marvelous. it was truly something to extend the crown of the head to the sky and the arms out, including one leg, all while balanced on one foot. the trick is, sophie says,

to fly. not to think of the ground at all because we're not grounding, we're flying.

and fly we do.

i have my body back. now what will i do with it. i feel present to my life. to my child. to my friends in a way i have not experienced before. and each day is full of wonder.

even when the mail comes, and news arrives, i do not fear. i know it will be well.

i am excited for my sister to come to me and to spend over a month with her, but i'm trying to be here in my home, with my people that i love until then. it is so easy to wish it away, to be lost in what will be. but i refuse.

there are moments here, happening now that will not come again. i know this. i must stay in this moment of time.

even the uncertainties, the doubts, they are my teachers. i sit with them and try to attend to their lessons.

be open to everything,

she said.

and i am, i am trying to be, even when it doesn't seem that way.

so i've imposed an isolation of sorts on myself of late. and i'm ready to move out of it. there is much i need to accomplish and i can't do anything from a cocoon. i must emerge. i must fly. sophie is right.

and sometimes, when i'm in yoga, and the patchouli wafts, i am reminded that it is the scent of my liberation.

the scent vendor was not at her usual spot and i have to replenish my stock. also lost my jingly anklet last time i went to the city, i hope whomever finds it wears it with as much joy as i did. it's strange being silent and not jingling my way through my days. but in time, another will come to me, and i will sound again.

i believe everything happens for a reason.

and so, today when i stood, wings spread, chest hailing the heavens i knew everything would be all right. and when i, like a child throw my arms up in joy or for release, i will be lifted up. carried. in that utter surrender only a child knows.

the surrender of a bird upon wings.

come back to me

2011-06-14T10:33:00.000-07:00

reunion is a beautiful thing. but sometimes the reality of it is a bit awkward. and i've just experienced it on the smallest scale. but i am grateful for reunion whenever it comes. may it come again. and again.

my cat, i have a few, though they chose me, not i them. the cat that loves me most, the one who nuzzles up to me and sleeps beside me, the one that claimed me early on as his own, had walked with me to the bus stop to get nee. he got a bit scared on the way as it was far (to them) and new. they had never left the safe haven of the farm before. and i had them strolling down our lovely tree covered lane toward the busy highway.

i noticed geenie, that's what i call him, had gone off into the woods to wait for our return after spooking.

i was mildly concerned, but i didn't think he'd be brave enough to venture off alone again. he was so timid on that first walk. whereas greggy, the girl cat who walks with me all the way across the two bridges and to the busy road to wait for nee, walks with me down to the river, and is quite brave all things considered. greggy yowls the entire way and back sometimes, at least she did early on.

but i look back and there greggy is, or she is zigzagging between my legs threatening to trip me up.

i love these cats, they tend my soul in so many ways. but when spring came they were loaded with ticks. so i didn't let them back in the house. i'm brave but not a fool. they didn't like this, though the weather was fine enough. i think they had grown accustomed to sprawling out in front of the heater, they don't realize the heater is not on anymore. and i guess my place is safe for them too.

i understand why they want in. it saddens me that i can't explain to them why i want them out for the time being.

they are ferrel. they belong out.

so, geenie goes timidly with greggy and i to get nee that one day and i see him come out of the woods as we return. my heart sank because greggy always hid by the river if he was hiding, he never went into the woods.

i have since seen greggy in the woods, which also makes my heart sink, but they are themselves and will do as they must. the great lesson of letting go.

so, today, after weeks of not seeing geenie and deciding, though hoping he had found a home with someone else because he is a loving cat. nee walks outside and says,

geenie is back!

i wanted to celebrate right there and then, but couldn't i had to get nee to the bus stop. so i popped open a can of food (which is a cat's way of celebrating i guess) and drove off with nee.

geenie looked skittish and thin. lankier than when last i saw him, but he's growing into his cat self. he let me pet him, but seemed nervous.

i came home, put out more food, geenie was thin (and ate it all) and set about doing what i had to do.

when i finally landed home after laundromat and groceries (ah the life i live is divine, believe me, i'm grateful for the means to do laundry and get groceries), i pulled a chair out on to the porch and sat down. geenie came closer and rubbed my legs. i picked up his long thin body (he was alway solid before, the biggest of the bunch, his thinness is testament only to his being lost i think).

and i found myself wondering if there wasn't someone who loves him now. someone who got attached to him as i had. that someone is looking out their window with a sunken heart and saying,

where did he go?

i know that feeling too well.

so i lay him in my lap and he settled down after a moment, stretching his claws out on my legs and driving his claws gently into my leg as i rubbed his head. when i'd say,

i missed you,

he would turn his beautiful head around and look me in the eye as if to say,

i missed you too.

until i picked him up, we were tentative with each other. i guess that is how it is at reunion. there is a renegotiation of sorts that must take place. the one must ask the other,

do i still belong with you, to you? is there still a place for me.

i kept saying, in his absence,

i don't need him to be happy with me, i just want him to be happy.

i hated to think of him having been a meal for something bigger and toothier, but it was a possibility. there are a lot of things living in the woods.

i spent more time than i care to acknowledge thinking about him in his absence. wondering if he would return.

and today, he did.

slogging through

2011-06-11T18:59:00.001-07:00

it's been a strange week for me. one thick with forest to hack through. i've been slogging away at it, growing weary, trying to keep my chin up, wondering what the hell is going on.

then today, i'm in yoga and the instructor comes up behind me as we are doing triangle pose, and she mirrors me while we're looking in a mirror. she reaches around my torsoe and says,

stitch the ribs together, elongate the trunk,

and uses her other hand to turn my hip out completely, all this while she's flush up against me. we sidebend together into the pose. she has her arms completely around me, holding me in the form with the most gentle pressure.

needless to say, i'm lovin yoga.

she grabs my uppermost thumb, still mirroring me, mind you, and elongates it. she's taller than me, so this is easy for her.

and i'm just there, enjoying the right positioning of things.

it's easy to get lazy. to let the leg roll out or do things that take the pressure off. i'm finding when someone comes along and tweaks my body into that perfect form, the difference is amazing. not to mention, enjoyable.

i know i turn everything into this touchfest, but what is life, really?

a bunch of people thrown together trying to find their way. so we bump up against each other along the way, it helps. in a lot of ways it helps.

so, i'm lost in my thoughts, trying to draw my focus into yoga, and we're about halfway through when the triangle pose happens, and i realize, we do the best we can. it is all we can do.

i'm slogging through the forest of my mind, trying to see daylight and have no clue if i'm progressing. marion woodman, when asked by her analysands how they were doing, replied,

i don't know. i'm making the journey with you.

that's what i'm finding most of late, that my companions have as little perspective as i. which is how it is supposed to be.

i must be mindful of this alone, that i keep trusting. keep believing. keep moving forward for the doors will open at the right time, i need only walk through.

does it always feel that easy? no. i just said it didn't. i'm slogging through.

but sometimes. i get glimpses of where i'm headed.

and those moments, those mountaintop moments are divine.

gifts

2011-06-09T17:46:00.000-07:00

tonight i had a new yoga teacher. like all the rest, she kicked my ass. but something different happened. her vibe is very strong and i was weeping at the end of class. it was powerful. i had a realization that i am grateful for. i rushed home to tell my girl who made me wonder why i rushed home. it was such an overwhelming feeling of being cared for. of loving her.

i irritated her earlier in the day. she shouldn't be surprised by this, i am human. i do annoying things. so when i got home from yoga i apologized and said,

i'm annoying, what can i say. but everyone is annoying sometimes.

yeah.

she replied. then pulled out her eighth grade dc trip picture and we talked about her friends and school.

i don't know whether it is the solitude of today, or what happened, but i broke wide open in yoga tonight.

there are concerns, issues on my plate that i have not discussed with anyone. and in savasana i got a terrible image. which i faced, and released. it is all i can do. trust.

then i came to understand, the way she, my girl, blindly trusts me to care for her, to provide what she needs. that is the way we all are. some of us are more actively engaged in bringing home the bacon, but ultimately, every job, every dollar, every bill is a gift. a circle. we give, we get. sometimes there is disparity, but mostly, it is all how it should be. at least that is the conclusion i am coming to.

i look around my tiny apartment and i have considered perhaps a larger one, but ultimately, i have everything i need. the only thing i concern myself about is how it looks to others. that should be the least of my concerns. i don't have a lifestyle of maintaining things. no lawns, no houses, nothing.

i understand that means i own nothing, but there is little i want to own at this point. i want my people to be happy, to be content, to find joy. i realized tonight, i can do nothing for them. for any of them. i can't keep one of them alive if i wanted to. they are all in the keeping of the universe. and i must entrust them to it.

and so tonight, tears streaming down my face, i released them all again, every one i love. to the trust and care, the providence and grace of the universe. goodness breathe upon them. abundance fill their days. joy lighten their burdens. these are my people whom i love. i can do nothing for them. i understand that. save give them my love. that is all i have to offer. but that love alone cannot do a single thing for them. i am powerless.

and so, i revel in my abject poverty, my powerlessness, and release it all to trust.

and i drove away not concerned about the things that were on my mind earlier, i drove away from yoga knowing, it is all a gift. every last bit of it. every moment we're here breathing and being together.

and i am grateful.

love

2011-06-08T17:36:00.001-07:00

it's such a complicated word. idea. many people have many different ideas of what it means. who has the right answer. is there a right answer.

i sat by the river tonight, who was not as quiet as yesterday, it had a lot to say. and as i drove there, i could hear something that sounded like wisdom. i don't know if you hear things the way i do, or if it is peculiar to me.

there comes a point where i can no longer tell you i love you. i cannot convince you if i try. i can only let you find it in your heart, your mind, your soul, that i love you. believe that love.

now this thought led to another,

then, when you believe it, trust it, my love, that is, i am free again to say it.

what does all that mean. of course i am not entirely sure, but i've no need for certainty before i believe a thing to be true. it is a lot like life that way.

meanwhile, in the background, one of my all time favorite movies, out of africa is playing. now there is another model of love. something that intrigues me.

i want to stop myself from writing now because i feel a poem coming on. i don't write poems here. but it is, again, consciously subconscious.

the river then, darkening as the sun set. the cat i call greggy walked with me to the river and instead of keeping her distance, she rubbed up against me as i dangled my feet in the water, i took her in my arms a couple times but she's never been the cuddling type. she finally sprawled out on a large boulder beside me and meowed. this time, only once or twice. last time she accompanied me, she meowed in time the entire length of my stay there. it was painful. but she's braver now. trusting more perhaps.

and i could see the breeze rustling through the leaves. a calm and quiet was beginning to settle into the dusk. the heat had finally let up. and the warm rocks offset the coolness of the river. when i pulled my feet out and sat embracing my knees like they do in pictures of aboriginals in foreign countries, everything felt right. felt good.

i have trust.

i believe that the next door to open will be the one i need to walk through, and it will open at the moment it is to open. until that moment, i must stay in the present and tend to what has need of me.

i cleaned my apartment today, how the energy changes when neglect is swept away, and haste has been set in order. started the day at the laundromat and then hid out from the unbearable heat outside. i took a nap and retrieved my child from the bus stop. then arranged the things that i've been overlooking. all this to the soothing sounds of favorite movies playing in the background.

i have spent a lot of time in silence of late. i keep the ringer on my phone off as much as possible, and only look when i want to, i was beginning to feel a lot like pavlov's dog and had to break that habit.

tonight in yoga i did a full shoulder stand. it was lovely. sophie said

next week we'll do headstands,

and i laughed. she said,

really.

i probably laughed last week when she said we'd do shoulder stands. it's amazing how when you take it slow and in steps the poses seem to reveal themselves.

i stepped out of a few balance poses and, well, i just tried to get back into them, no worries. it happens. i think it's more about trying than about perfection. there is no perfection anyway.

i'm ready for bed. tired of body, peaceful of mind.

tell me a story,

she said.

and there's my poem again, rearing its head. i will sleep on it and let it come from the halfshell, fully formed.

living poetry

2011-06-06T06:52:00.000-07:00

the poetry intensive was lovely, i kept going awol but i think that's the only way i can manage these functions now. spent three hours sunday morning walking the beach, it was like visiting an old friend. and it gave me a poem. when i read the poem to the group there was a gasp out of one woman and surprise by others, though i'm told it is a familiar union, the image that i used. but it was the act of doing it, the way one starts out on a sunday morning, fresh from bed, showers, lands at the beach and removes shoes. the water is chilly so i kept my flip flops on for about a half hour, then carried them, as shoes should be in hand at beaches. the image began to present itself early into my walk, as the walk progressed, it got fuller, cleaner. i interacted with the image. took photos. found myself conversing with the image and finally shouting,

i got it, i got it.

i don't know if somewhere someone knows what is to be written. but when i finally caught on, the images began to fall into place in my mind. i wasn't thinking about a poem per se, i could just feel images lining up, falling into a particular cadence.

it was, perhaps the most conscious my subconscious process has been, ever. maybe that is where i'm headed now. to a complete consciousness, because i can see poems overlaying my days, like an architect's sketches. i see all kinds of possibility. but none of it is complete, or even concrete at that point. i just see an overlay, like webbing, from scenes, images, words. to something that looks like a poem.

when i turned around to make it back to my car sunday, i wasn't sure i could write that poem. that i would capture it. this is always the question. the issue at hand. it's one thing to see a poem, to hear it, to know it's waiting but another thing entirely to catch it living on the page. to elicit gasps from women.

so i'm approaching my car, i notice how my body began to veer away from the shoreline and toward the seawall stairs by my vehicle. in this realignment, i found the final line of my poem. it redirected my gaze and the images continued to play out before me, life happening, and i heard what would be the final line.

someone asked me once,

did you write about it yet

no,

i said,

it's all words and images to me. i don't have enough distance from it yet.

perhaps it's because that was referencing interactions between people, which seem to take more perspective to make sense of. this, though, was no less important, but the immediacy, the presence. i was walking in that poem. living that poem as it was being written in my mind, and was able to go home and capture it on the page.

i don't understand how it works or why. i'm just grateful, every day, that i get to do this.

i thought when poetry was so much in my mind that i was living poetry, but now, this is something utterly new.

and i went back to the retreat, and wrote it down. called my best friend and said,

i don't know if i got it, i think i got it.

and after i read it, she was silent.

no poetry critiques, no commentary.

and i knew, i got it.

edge or ego

2011-06-02T13:53:00.000-07:00

sophie stopped herself short when she was talking about going to the edge in yoga. i wish she would have continued speaking, those are always the words i want to hear, the ones not said. my nature, i guess. so today when i saw her i mentioned how i appreciated what she was saying.

she went on,

breathe (imagine everything in a heavily eurpoean accent, like there are ds where none exist).

when you get to the edge,

she said.

transformation is possible. why do we come for yoga lessons. to gain strength and flexibility at first, maybe. then you realize it is much more.

will you be gone,

i asked. i had overheard her talking last week. the dates overlap mine somewhat, i had hoped considerably, but she will be gone a month longer than i. which bums me out.

she will come. she is very good.

she reassured me.

i realize that these women are really affecting me, helping me deal with the many things on my plate. helping me find my breath, reconnect with my body.

yoga is a conversation between your mind and your body,

sophie says.

i looked down at my foot today and it wasn't nearly as bulbous as it has been recently. this is cause for celebration. i have a long way yet to go.

so the ego comes in,

sophie says,

when you're holding a position not because it's your edge, but because everyone else is

and there is some pride involved.

this is just ego,

she says,

not transformation.

i am trying to learn when to let go.

yet i'm finding i can release and breathe and fall deeper into a stretch, today was hamstrings. provided i'm in the right position, i can sink and lift and stretch farther than i thought possible.

i enjoy the openness of a backbend. can i do it very far or very long, no. but something about opening oneself completely. i didn't think i could find my heels until today, which was probably the fifth time i've done the pose, and each time swung my arms around, flailed them about, unable to connect with my heels.

yet today, when i sank back into the bend, touching heels, it was quite a moment. i get images in my head of limbs snapping off because the stretches are so deep and awkward at times, but i don't think anyone's limbs have snapped off lately, though often mine feel as if they will.

i think when i go to my sister's i will try to keep up this practice of five times a week yoga. it won't be the same not in a class, but it's not the class that i'm after. it's the centering. the silence. the release. ultimately, this changes my body. and my mind.

that is why i take yoga lessons.

passageways

2011-06-02T03:32:00.001-07:00

i just read the last packet of my final semester. i will miss my mentor terribly. she saved the program for me. saved it. her critique is invaluable to me because she knows how to push me without damaging what i'm after. she has a very socratic method, which i find intensely appealing. i try to model myself after her in that regard now.

there is so much coming, but let me stay in this moment for a while. i realize how rushed and harried i've been, and i'm trying to change that. to learn to linger. i've always been a lingerer but now, there seem to be many more lingerworthy moments coming in rapid succession. the bath last night. pool side with my bestie yesterday. memorial day's long hot embrace. stay there, for a moment.

poetry intensive this weekend, see, i've already ventured out of that moment initial moment of my packet.

i don't know that poetry is meant to explicate everything for the reader. to lay down a linear thread, i think that is the job of prose. poetry is more jagged terrain and drop offs than that. though i understand, the reader must get some enjoyment out of it too, but i trust when the poem comes, it comes as it is meant to come. this is the premise of my process. it is hard for me then to clip a line, to alter a sequence to suit anyone. this is my limitation perhaps. but i can't understand poetry by committee. even the best committees around. poetry is utterly personal. intimate. the choices made there are not without some meaning. though not necessarily linear and progressive in terms of a narrative.

this perspective has always been my liability. it is why i entrust my works to no one. though i do believe the time is coming for me to publish, or, more exactly, to allow another to publish my works. that is a huge trust for me. it has to be someone to whom i'd willingly defer. those people simply aren't around every corner.

i will read the poems critiqued to the poets who have been writing with me, and hearing me for the past five years now. such time has passed. we have all changed. grown. there are conversations i have to have, that i know are coming, which will be difficult. i see it down the road coming my way, and i know i won't avoid it.

i'm looking forward to the long drive up, to clear my head. marion woodman speaking to me of the conscious feminine, understanding how far i've come. time has been gracious with me. it has brought me love, poems, life, health, and strength. and i am reminded of so many things she said to me before i was free. so many things i yearned for in that captivity i once called a marriage.

i'm not down on marriage per se, i'm down on my marriage. i am still trying to finalize that end, but in the meantime, i'm moving on. trusting. who can know what is to come until it has been.

you can't take your garbage with you,

woodman says.

and i remember when we moved out to new york, how i wanted to be done with it all, to let many of our possessions go, not tuck them away into a workshop. i knew the day would come when i would have to return to texas and bury the dead left rotting above ground.

that day is nearly upon us. this summer looks to be the time for my sojourn back. driving back through tennessee and remembering where i came from.

dreams

2011-05-31T17:19:00.001-07:00

i just had an unsettling one. sometimes i wake up and try to rationalize it. but when it involves the ones i love it's hard.

think about something else then, this doesn't address the issue. but dreams are just that, dreams, right. why give them any weight.

it's not me who weights the dream with meaning, it is the dream itself does that. when i wake with a heaving chest, though i wasn't so bad this time, heart racing, it's hard to ignore that. to say,

it was just a dream.

sometimes i just have to cry. to tell someone about it.

stress dreams,

she called them once. i try to remind myself of this.

but i don't feel stressed, not in the slightest, so what does the dream represent. some underlying fear, some inherent doubt i have yet to acknowledge. perhaps.

am i weighting it too heavily, perhaps, but as i said, it's the dream itself that gives it substance.

yoga was tough today. i was physically tired, but the work was full of forward bends and lunges, to the point of feeling like my body would end up in a heap. at least i made it through the class, last week, was a different story.

i'd like to say i got some spiritual meaning out of today's yoga class but all i got was shaking legs and a trembling body. it feels good to push myself, i can feel my body changing. but that is the difference between this and the other teachers, she is bodycentric. it's not a bad thing, it merely is.

i wonder what i would be if i ever taught yoga.

trying to figure out how to move forward from this place in my life.

all feels well, i had a genuine sense of well being today, before that dream episode. and it gives me pause. what is happening different. i'm watching a rather violent hbo series out of sheer boredom, i admit it. watching before i go to sleep. i should probably spend more time at the river. didn't even make it there today.

i'm thinking about my sister and feeling torn in my life, wanting to be near her now, but knowing i am here. this is where i live. i want to protect her, take care of her. shelter her for a bit.

so i'm going to spend an entire month with her, soon. it feels far away. i can only trust the universe to provide what she needs. to send the help she requires. to breathe life into her and strengthen her. i can only love her from afar.

i must remember not to be so far in my thoughts, to reach out to her and remind her she is loved, and safe. she is a powerful woman.

head stand

2011-05-27T05:51:00.000-07:00

i went back to sophie's class last night because i was out of sorts. i needed to find my center again as i'd been thrown off. this time when we did the headstand preparation, i went ahead and lifted my legs into the headstand, with sophie spotting me, i was in a head stand for about 30 seconds, then got all wobbly and let myself down. but i did it. it was wonderful.

i'm awful, just atrocious at following direction, but maybe this will help. some of it is instinctive, you have to know where to go, what to do, i get all caught up in the words sometimes, and i'm grateful i'm learning the names of poses, and beginning to recognize the flow.

i didn't get into the writer's conference i'd hoped to attend in la. and while that saddens me, everything has a purpose. there is a reason for everything. so, i will still enjoy myself and move forward.

my work is getting stronger, though i am hesitant to share it with many people at this point because it is so close to the bone. lately, only my sister has been seeing any of it. and my best friend hearing it. she tells me to change this or that, i told her

she's quite the poetry critic now.

when she balks at yet another session of poetry reading i remind her,

it's in the fine print of our best friend contract, you have to be subjected to my work.

then you have to listen to my critique,

she replies.

i liked it better when she was ignorant these things and had no opinion. sometimes that's easier. though having someone argue with me about my work is probably good for me. i can see where i deliberately did or do something.

but, beggars can't be choosers. i would like to find some kindred community as at the moment i'm feeling isolated artistically. though i have had experiences i wouldn't trade, the rush of poems that come from the conversations i have with a dear friend. it's all still there, i just want to share it, willingly with others.

how does that happen?

i don't know.

so i kept having to breathe deep and still my mind yesterday because my baby needed to see the doctor. i don't know what it is about me and doctors but i get freaked out.

so yoga. then sophie led us through a quiet meditation at the end which helped tremendously. i felt lost before i arrived, and when i left, felt myself again.

it doesn't hurt too that she walks over and helps me get into position. we don't talk much, but she is whom i would model myself after if i could. there are not many people i can say that about.

she closes the session with,

when you are in the place of light, of love, of truth in yourself, and i am in the place of light, of love, of truth in myself, then we are one.

i love that. so true.

mat work

2011-05-26T10:24:00.001-07:00

that's probably not what it's called, technically, but i make up names for things.

so this morning's yoga was wonderful. we stayed on the floor and did a lot of stretching and balancing from the ground. at one point we got on our foreheads and put our knees on the back of our arms in preparation for the head stand. i did it, held it and was solid. sophie walks over,

can you put up one leg.

no.

i laughed and let myself down. i know my limitations.

it's curious because i'm not the most flexible person in the room, nor am i the most adept at yoga. but the really hard shit comes easily to me. the simple stuff, flat back, following direction (:D) very difficult.

sophie talks a lot about the spirituality of yoga and this pleases me. i'm utilitarian by nature. i want my actions to be meaningful.

she helped me find my breath today too, which was huge. it was probably the first time i felt in slight awareness of my breath and able to begin to control it.

so i've put away the winter clothes, finally. and now i'm all ready for spring. still haven't finished the cleaning to do today, but it's been incredibly productive so far. when i clean my girl comes in the door and dances. it's so cute to see, like the energy of the place changes when things are in order. it probably does.

i'm excited about the coming weeks. the next month is full of little details before graduation. then i'm gone for a long vacation. i can't wait. i haven't had a vacation in ages. eons.

i plan to vegemetate regularly.

blessed mundane

2011-05-26T04:29:00.001-07:00

today i will lose myself in the quotidian mysteries. tending the home the way i once did, years ago.

yoga with sophie will help me focus, she has a way of ushering in light. i can't explain it. she's not easier than the physical girl, she's just got a different approach. and she always says,

beautiful, thank you.

she plays yoga music and i'm able to lose myself in her class.

though one time, because she's european, she said,

put your hands on your shin.

i was on one leg with the other outstretched balancing, and put my hands under my chin and smiled, because i didn't realize she said,

shin.

i heard chin.

these things make me laugh inside. i'm such a dork.

last night was nee's spring concert, the end of her middle school music journey, essentially. the music was okay, i must say, i enjoyed my kid's performance best, but that's to be expected. i tried to be patient through it, but was grateful when it was over.

my girl closes her eyes when she sings. she gets very serious and deep inside herself. she wants to be a singer now. i have told her to play that guitar she begged me to buy. she is currently dabbling in piano, but i think the guitar is important for a singer. don't know what she'll do.

and when it comes to languages, the child is teaching herself japanese but they won't let her in a mandarin chinese class, because at the high school they don't offer level one classes in any language except spanish. sigh. so she's stuck in spanish for the rest of her time in high school. i understand, i didn't like it either. spanish was a pain. it's a useful language though, so hopefully it will sink in a bit.

the air has gone cool, but my girl tells me it will warm up considerably today.

yesterday was beautiful. my bestie and i went for a walk, ran a few errands, and sat on her porch. we've worked so hard the past week, trying to find some balance of rest and finishing the remainder of the tasks we've set before us is a challenge.

today is one of those days when tasks will present themselves and i will give myself over to them. grateful for the opportunity to meet the needs of my child. to be in this life another beautiful day.

steady girl

2011-05-24T08:25:00.001-07:00

i am trying to get a handle on my energy level which is all over the charts and not in good ways. it feels as though someone just broke pool and the balls are skittering all over the field of felt in my chest.

are you okay,

the yoga teacher asked.

yes, i'm just tired.

i replied from child's pose. we were not doing anything horribly strenuous, but my body felt like a folding chair that would snap shut at any moment.

so i stepped out of the position and sank to the ground. stretched my arms as far as they could go and sank my head into my knees. my lower back felt as tight as my budget (har har!)

when i got back into it, i was wobbly, but still able to do one leg parallel position. i think because she starts with such long stretches of deep squats, and i'm beat already, that i just couldn't be graceful today. though coming out of the parallel leg and transitioning into tree was quite smooth.

but even in forward bend my legs quivered, and my body felt like a souffle ready to collapse.

i'm home trying to eat and ground myself. perhaps that is my problem, i've eaten too little and asked too much of my body for about a week now. i don't like to eat when i don't feel hungry, and i don't get that hunger pang thing too readily, so i have to start eating as a matter of choice, rather than necessity.

it's an interesting dilemma, because food is enjoyable, we need it to live. but i don't want to eat when i'm not hungry, and perhaps it's what i'm eating. i must rethink my diet. transform my life.

today i have to work, for myself, but still work.

but first, a hot bath. hot cup of chai with soy. some rest. then i will be ready.

find your breath

2011-05-17T05:20:00.001-07:00

the sound of the rain, the moist air, the cool breeze. it's delightful.

i have a jam packed week, and today is just getting started. i have a new writing gig which will take me into new jersey and i find this exciting. the assignment is much the same as what i'm doing in new york, but i'm looking forward to what will develop with my new ventures.

my nee leaves tomorrow for a few days and i will be busily packing and helping my bestie move. she says i

calm her down.

i'm glad. i just don't see what there is to worry about. ever. curiously though, she has the same effect on me. when my center is revving up to intolerable levels, i can go sit with her and cry, or laugh, or just be silent. i think that is what companionship does. it absorbs errant energy. transforms it into something useful, or at least, tolerable. this is, perhaps the only gift i have to give my people. that i can be present to them. and love them.

i've started reading a new book on buddhism called the dawn of tantra. i would like to get it on my first pass through, but likely won't. i can be a dullard. but i keep reading because i know there is much there for me. even if i can't make logical sense of it yet. i found myself quoting the book repeatedly last night, and it makes me wonder if this detached reading style of mine isn't something in itself. i don't pretend to know, and this is a style of reading where i don't contemplate the words, i just inhale them. as breath comes in and leaves the lungs, serving its purpose, so does words.

i guess because i'm so deep in words already, i would drown in them if i anchored myself too closely to the words of another. let's be clear. i am awash of words as the world is awash of rain at the moment, or at least the world outside my window. myopia in action folks, the world outside my window is all that exists. but in some ways it is true.

the deep soaking rain, that will refill the rivers and cause levels to rise, that is the way words work with me too. they come, a deluge at times. and i can only stand in the midst of them and soak them up.

yesterday i wrote a poem, and it was delightful.

my bestie beside me, forced to listen, to first hearings usually, commented on how i did this or that. then said,

but that's not a poem.

i've come to understand my style is very much about the relationships of my life. the seeming insignificance of a glance, the power of words, spoken and written. my works are the way i convey my world and what is and isn't a poem by a particular definition does not interest me.

i have generated this critique before. usually at the workshop table, three hours long, ten days in a row. the larger discussion would be, what is a poem. that discussion has never yet been had. i have never been witness to it. far easier, i think, to level critique than to explore the ramifications of said critique. dropping bombs. literary bombs, but bombs nonetheless.

i will go now, try to find myself in my life and prepare for the tasks which will present themselves. i'm excited though tempered by an excess of thought. yoga this morning will hopefully help that.

today's teacher is very physical. she demands a lot of the body. she is intrepid. last week we met eyes. and i smiled. but i don't have the warmth toward her that i do toward the more spiritually inclined instructor of midweek, sophie. though all the instructors are excellent, there is a spiritual component that speaks to me. but i'm deeply in need of being in touch with my body. today's instructor will help with that. she will demand of me what i would not demand of myself. and i will give it. it is why we go to these classes, to be pushed to a higher level. it is why we keep showing up for the challenge, because it reminds us that we can do more than we think we can.

when i most want to quit, i breathe in, and focus. exhale slowly.

the breath is the hardest part of yoga for me. i am unable, as yet, to conjoin the movements with the exhalations and inhalations. perhaps this will come as i get more familiar with poses. as i find my center and move from it, through it, to it.

perhaps if i just start noticing it during the other parts of the day, i will be able to find it during yoga.

listening to one of my favorite audio books, zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance, and pirsig says,

being a sloppy thinker six days a week will not produce focused thought on the seventh. but if you try to focus on the seventh, perhaps the following six days will be less sloppy.

so, in a sense, today is my seventh day. i will focus on my breathing.

perhaps then i will find my breath

cave paintings

2011-05-16T05:39:00.000-07:00

do you know what it's like,

i asked.

she listened.

like my mind is a cave and you've painted and carved images all over it. i have to look out through my eyes and not stay in my head.

she's there. she knows she's there. i know she's there. i try to do the things that need be done. tend to what needs my attention. and sometimes, we connect.

relationally, i've come a long way. i don't need traditional anything anymore. not even commitment. i don't really want it. but this living in a new way comes with uncertainty. it comes with a high trust quotient. trust who, you ask. myself. that i will know what to do when it's time to do it.

so i go climb mountains, and meet new people and see new sights, because i need beauty. i need to be embraced by beauty.

sometimes i can explain it. sometimes i can't.

and i live so far from the world of places and things. i walk in a presence i have never experienced before. because it is the only place i am safe.

and when she comes to me, and i open my arms again, my mind is free. my heart is free. she is free. it's something.

i have come from a very far country, it has been an arduous journey. but i would do it all again.

all of it.

yoga toes

2011-05-12T13:07:00.002-07:00

we were sitting in washington park when i slipped my foot out of my platform flip flop and spread my toes out, we were both looking at my feet, i said,

hello foot.

don't know why, i just do these things.

you have yoga toes,

she said.

i looked at her not having a clue what she meant.

it took me a long time to get my toes to spread out like that. i heard a teacher once say that your life will change when you can spread your toes.

how will my life change,

i looked askew at them spread out before me.

i wonder how my life will change.

i described to her my daughter, who at eighteen months thought it perfectly normal to carry a ball point pen in her pony tail, that is where i sheathed mine, more often than not. and when said ball point, or crayon, fell to the ground, she would not bend at the waist to retrieve it, she would reach her foot toward it and use her toes.

she is so my child.

i said the first time i saw her do that.

i stopped short of describing my poem prehensile toes, because the story got the point across. i use my toes like fingers.

so today, as i spread my toes out wide on my yoga mat, she had us lift them up into the air. then touch down the pinkie toe only. then add only the big toe. i never knew i could do that, or i knew but it had never been asked of me to do that. so the class let out a collective

oooohhh

when we all discovered simultaneously how easy it is to arch your toes. a bit of childlike wonder. like we'd never known what we could do with our own bodies.

i want my body back,

was my saying before i rejoined the gym. this foot injury has taken its toll but it's time for it to stop. the downward spiral is over. time to build strength and stamina. to get my body back.

so far this week, i've attended three classes and will do a fourth tonight. i'm not sure if you can do too much yoga, but i'm going to do it as much as i can because i feel strong and balanced when i do it. a feeling i need to remind me that my body is mine. it has always been mine.

when one sustains an injury that must be accommodated, it's a bit of a mindfuck. somehow there is a limitation, whether one objects or not. a limitation exists. i do not live by limitation, i live by possibility. for months on end this foot thing had me sidelined and i couldn't figure out why it took such a toll mentally, let alone the physical part.

of course now i see i most likely wouldn't have passed last semester had i not been sidelined. i'm grateful for the time to focus on what needed my attention most. my life swung into this reprioritization that i had no say in. i just went with it. i didn't ask many questions about it, because i had tasks to accomplish. i can be very mulish when presented with a task.

so when my semester ended, and i was still catering to the foot, months later, even now in some ways i still cater to the foot, i am in yoga trying to expand my repertoire.

vinyasa proved nearly undoable for me because it is so foot aggressive. but i breathed through it and took it very slow. i had to alter my pattern and step into downward dog rather than jump. my foot cannot handle it. but this is a concession. i understand. the goal for me is not to blow out my foot, but to progress to a level where the concessions are limited in number because my foot has regained strength and flexibility. i'm tired of limping and gimping around.

so we sat on the bench wrapped in each other's arms, looking at my toes, and i said,

i wonder how my life will change.

depersonalizing

2011-05-10T06:13:00.000-07:00

it is hard to separate out those things that are a loved ones at times, from things that are mine.

the harder i try to forget, to let go, the tighter the web wraps around my heart and mind. i strangle myself this way.

i would like to say i understand what is transpiring. i don't. nothing new there.

i just hadn't expected it to be so hard.

i keep trying to detach. to cut the cords. sever the connections. but as fast as i slice through them, they mend.

how many heads does the hydra need before i catch on.

they flail about me, i compound my own battle. i don't know how to win this particular battle. to face this particular foe.

it seems i'm going to have to write my way out of this. because when nothing else makes sense, this approach works for me.

i look intently into the face of my foe, study the contours of his face. the way my heart hurts in his presence. and come home, pecking away at the computer, and anchor him to a place in time.

sometimes, the foe is too strong to face head on.

so i wait. as the spider on her web, for the tremor of silk.

then i will seize my catch and in turning it over in my mind.

will find freedom.

reflections

2011-05-08T16:43:00.001-07:00

attended my first tai chi class in probably three years today, could it have been that long.

it was strange in the manner of strange. i'm still reeling from it. and what i've come to understand is this, i saw myself.

sometimes it's easiest to say, this person that. or that person this.

i have no one left to point to except me. in my lucid moments, when i understand, this seems obvious.

but when i'm wallowing in confusion. it's not so easy. far easier, to blame. to say, it's you. when in fact, is has always, only been me.

my quandary, this. i heard a teacher say,

if someone is using guilt against you, it is not them. it is you. your unconscious guilt. they are reflecting the guilt you feel at some level. the things they say do not come from them, they come through them.

mooji

my mind extrapolates this thought out and i'm left spinning.

but then again, that's just me. my reaction to truth.

i've been sitting with myself all day, trying to let go. to breathe. to release my idea of what i needed that tai chi instructor to do for me. ultimately i have decided, she can do nothing for or against me. i have to make the decision myself to return to the class. to face the thing that i reacted so strongly to. to stand there with it and let it unnerve me. to find myself in that place of discomfort. to watch it transform.

i do not think dis ease is to be avoided out of hand. sometimes, it presents itself for a reason.

what reason is this.

i do not know.

as i buried my head in my hands and wept over my divorce that did not come to realization, i understood, this is an opportunity for me to experience heartache amidst a very happy time in my life. so i do not lose the compassion sorrow begets.

have i done well with it.

whose to say. but i have tried to be mindful. to recognize sorrow as a teacher, equal to joy.

it has taken such great courage to embrace joy because it's fleeting. i don't want to lose it or let it go.

but i have no control over it. over any of it.

i must let it all go.

and find myself in the silence.

today this meant, sitting with great dis ease. and not turning away from it.

offering it a cup of tea. and the question,

what do you have to teach me today.

yeowga!

2011-05-07T07:31:00.000-07:00

have been trying out new instructors at my new gym. today's instructor made my entire body feel like jello within ten minutes. i'm not sure if that's a good thing. it's hard for me to feel totally lame, accommodating foot still, and try poses i can't remotely get in to. fell out of a couple today that i was fine with on weds, so i know it has a lot to do with the way it was done. that's no one's fault, just something i understand, which makes me feel better. i would have felt like a loser had this been my first yoga class at this gym, but it wasn't. so i know there is a spectrum. since i can't subscribe to any one class, i will continue to test myself with the spectrum.

tonight is a my chemical romance concert. my daughter and i are going together and i'm excited. when we were standing there watching them last time, i couldn't believe i hadn't wanted to come to either show. sometimes i get lazy. the city seems daunting, and, well, there are lots of reasons. but we were there, ear to ear grins, and saying, what were we thinking. we're suddenly glad we get to go again, it's like a treat.

we're hoping the architects open again, we liked them. the neon trees, for me, not so much, but my girl liked them. that was their last show with mcr, so fortunately, i don't have to see them again.

she's hooked on the concert scene now. just as i was. and i am glad i'm able to support her in that.

it's gotten suddenly chilly the past few days, and it's wonderful. i like to bundle up. to be cozy under blankets. to wear sweaters. then there are pockets of sunshine and i pop on my bathing suit and bask. life is beautiful at the moment.

i'm off to soak in a hot tub. my daily ritual. something about the stillness, the way the water holds and soothes. the layering in of salts and oils, applying masks, and using a fancy bar of soap a dear friend encouraged me to buy. there is something wonderfully restorative about those things in combination.

and when i'm done, my skin steaming, my mind at ease, i will emerge, and rest or wander down to the river, where i'll bask on a rock, until it's time to get ready, or until some other diversion presents itself.

life is good. and what i've come to understand is that when you expect life to be good, the cold cup of orange juice has a particular zing. the warm rice, good company, all these things, matter. when you look for the good, the good can be found. which makes perfect sense since when i look for something to complain about, something always presents itself. i'm looking to rejoice now. to marvel in simplicity and revel in the mundane.

starting with the lighting of candles, and the hot bath.

then, who knows.

estranged still

2011-05-04T06:23:00.000-07:00

i'm trying not to let the fact that i'm not divorced yet throw me into a tailspin.

yesterday proved most difficult, in that while i was being prepped for trial, my attorney got word that the judge had an emergency and had to cancel. i remain an estranged wife. as much as i like that phrase, i don't want to be anyone's wife anymore.

i want to be free.

now i contemplate how to honor the commitments i have while relinquishing my claims to things. it is not possible to hedge bets, to win every game. to even consider this a game. this was a significant life choice that i am trying to unmake. but the aftereffects remain. we have issues to contend with.

at least we're talking now. we are trying to come to terms between us, without the courts. and in the meantime, secure a divorce ourselves.

i don't know what it takes to make two people agree to help one another out.

but i know that harming my ex does not better me. i don't want him crushed, i don't want him to lose anything he wants to keep. i explained a lot of what transpired from my perspective over the past year, and he said,

i'm sorry.

i've never heard those words from him before. never.

it could be false contrition. i am not so naiive to think that everything, particularly in times of duress is so noble.

but i told him yesterday,

i trust you on some level, i married you. but i don't want to make you suffer.

so in this respite, this court mandated respite, he has some work to do. and we will try to agree on how best to parent out child.

and i have cried so many tears, enjoying the sadness that has come to me.

surprised by the sadness that has come to me, why am i sad. i'm not entirely clear on it, the best i can guess is, i had my heart set on being free today. on having a little slip of paper that would include today's date and my liberation.

but then again, i am empowering them too much, aren't i

i am free. i am liberated.

now to settle the property issues. i was willing to walk away once, i still am. so why haggle over it, except that i have a daughter to provide for. a child to keep.

i trust it will be well.

or as i'm fond of saying,

all ends well

how does it

it's a mystery

destress

2011-05-02T13:13:00.000-07:00

i knew this morning a long soak would do me well. but i had things to accomplish. deadlines to meet. important deadlines, not procrastinatable, because i'd put them off for so long. yes, that was completely my bad.

my divorce trial is weds morning. i have not sent one scrap of documentation to my atty, so today, i had to make it so. it was all compiled, i actually forgot about the hearing completely, if they hadn't told me to get on with it, i would have missed the phone appearance, because it just isn't on my radar at the moment. sure i want to be done with this, but i am not thinking about ends, or messy trials. i'm in a very good space of late.

anyway, i was standing at the copy machine, literally having to belly breathe, because i felt so tight. my back like a hunk of wood, a feeling i'm not familiar with, goddess be praised, and so i'm breathing in. and out. deeply. consciously. because i'm not wanting to stress about anything. there is no reason. it was my body on some kind of freak out setting, and i didn't want to freak. everything was okay.

i had contemplated, for a moment, using the copy center closest to me, but i know the guy at the copy center a bit farther away, and i knew if i had any kind of confusion, i'd explode (not that it was close to happening, but i needed to be comfortable and safe in my environment). so i drove myself to the copy guy i know, and the copying of things was frustrating as it can be, but it progressed smoothly because i had minimized the variables. i know the guy, he knows me, we're good.

but i still had mounds of paperwork to organize.

ultimately, i went to the library to sort through the paperwork and not have the distractions of my home, the paperwork sorting went quickly and i was grateful. i saw a friend, again, i was grateful.

the sorting went well, and i made it to the post office, another trial of my stress and patience waved by going to the now familiar though formerly irritating postal worker whom i am choosing to smile at and say hello to. we even chat some now and again. i realize, if i'm giving people the ojos, it's no wonder they are crabby with me.

i smile wide and say,

hello. good morning.

just being nice. though i hate that word. it has taken me a long time to practice this because when i stress i lash out. or used to. so i guess today was a particular triumph on many levels.

so i finally make it back home, after being on the phone with courts in texas and services all over the place. one goof up which tried me was my atty's secretary gave me the bench phone number. so, i called the judge herself, and asked a question. i keep reminding myself, accidents happen. it's not malicious.

went to pick up my nee at the bus stop and was escorted at least partially by four cats, the three little ones and the momma. and the whole way by two, until the second one darted. the cats follow me around. one walked with me down to the river (and has twice accompanied me to the bus stop to see nee off, or pick her up). he was no fun by the river, sat there and yowled the entire time. cut my time short, but it was nice to have company, even impatient, meowing company.

i plopped into a hot tub and lit candles. which is what would have served me this morning, but at least i got to it. and now i'm preparing to go to a public hearing for one of the areas i report on. the day is not yet over.

i think everything is arranged, i will appear by phone on weds, which is quite a coup, though i don't see why they need me to physically be there when i have an attorney representing me.

i need some pampering, so tomorrow i will go to a rockin yoga class, where she will twist me into a pretzel and help me to center.

i'm grateful, for these trials which show how much growth has occurred.
i'm grateful for the trial which will settle the marriage issue at last.

it is all good. every last bit of it.

stranger things

2011-04-28T18:29:00.000-07:00

it's hard to find words for the past two days. they have been unlike any i have ever lived. and i was present to them. the ups, the downs, the inbetweens. i would like this to be my norm, staying with what comes. welcoming those who cross my path and trusting myself to know how to take care of me.

some moments, when the tulips are in fullbloom and the riot of spring is in full swing, it is easy to trust. yesterday was one of those days. today, i had to choose to trust. and so i did. and so i do. even now. mindfully.

there is much yet for me to do. i have a young daughter to shepherd. a slew of poems yet to write.

there is much yet to do. may i do it with the abandon of yesterday, that carried into today. when i chose to believe. i choose to believe in this moment.

i am beginning to believe there are no accidents, no missteps, no wrong turns. only adventures to be had. enjoy them. when sadness comes, weep. in its own way, this is enjoyment of sadness.

i was asked yesterday,

why did you start belly dancing.

and i threw my head back and laughed.

it was the age before sorrow.

i explained to her what i meant, and she looked me in the eyes, stricken, and i said,

it's alright. it wasn't then, but it is now.

you see loves, whenever i have abandoned myself to a moment. to fully embrace the depths of it, the heights of it, the darkness of it, the light, some growth has occurred, without exception.

so even when sadness comes, i open my arms to embrace it.
joy is not the only guest at my table. and when you get to know them, intimately, like any stranger come a callin' they become friends.

when sorrow, who has finally sojourned on, comes again to visit, i will welcome him. for i know him, intimately.

when joy flits off and leaves me as it has so many times before, i will see it as a season, a wintering, when demeter cries, and persephone must be out of sight. spring will come again. so too, joy.

but for now, for now, these curious bedfellows, these delights, these trials.

we are getting to know each other's face and name.

and it is good to have goodness for an extended stay. that is a coveted guest, but i have spent copious amounts of time with sorrow, and understand, this is also a guest who must come, must stay, and in time, only in sorrow's own time, take leave.

i understand this now. and i welcome them all, seasons, friends, lovers.

and i begin to believe, there are no enemies.

only strangers we do not yet comprehend.

hear me, hear me

2011-04-22T13:53:00.001-07:00

it looks like i'm on tap friday night of my final residency. that is when i will be giving my fifteen minute reading. i get to teach my class the first day we are there, nothing like getting things out of the way, then i have two other classes i will commit to going to and i'm free and clear. i may show up for other classes, but i doubt it. i'm just not into it. not even into pretending i'm into it.

when i graduate, i will get my diploma and drive my ass home that night. i don't want to hang around there any longer than i have to. i can't wait to graduate. can't wait.

that will begin the next leg of our heroine's journey. the one in which she sets off for a very long, month long visit to california. she may, in fact, believes, she will be taking in a writer's conference for a week out of that month, but other than that it will be a lot of reconnecting time. for her and her sister. can't. wait.

my graduate lecture on contemplative writing will take place on friday, july 8, 2:45 in Halden Hall Room 139

so if you find yourself in chestnut hill, ma, july 15 at 5:30pm, that's when i'm on tap. reading from my creative thesis, bleed easy. at least i think i'll read from that. i may go another way, but it's a long time off, and we'll probably have a chat before then.

peace.

i could write

2011-04-21T15:35:00.000-07:00

a lot of poems about you,

i said.
don't know that anyone really understands what that means. but when i get someone in my blood, in my veins, in my mind, i have to exorcise them through poetry.

i've come to understand it is just who i am. what i do. i am sure it can be disconcerting to newcomers. who writes poems anymore? who writes love poems? what does any of it matter?

it doesn't really but that is not why one writes poems, for the great weight they will bear. one writes poems because one must. it is all i say to explain it. there is no monetary value, but poetry is the only thing i value. i will continue to do what i do because it is who i am.

and when my mind lights up with the face or name or thought of someone, i will write it down.

a friend said to me,

you must not write anymore poems and share them with anyone.

she meant well, was trying to protect me. but i think it would do me more harm to stop the flow than to deal with the repercussions of my outpouring.

poetry is dangerous. remember that.

i have much still in me. this pleases me to know. that the well has not run dry, not been tapped out by so much talk of craft.

i neglected to mention the craft,

she said.

no worries,

i reassured her,

i don't put any stock in it.

craft is not why i write or even how i write. which reminds me of a lecture i'm listening to which said,

craft is an ad hoc approach to something written, rather than a way to approach writing.

i so agree.

hot jello

2011-04-17T19:32:00.001-07:00

sometimes when i write a poem, i tremble inside. because it is so honest. so much where i'm at. it's frightening to be so honest when the response will be unknown. it's a bit like jello before it's set. very liquid, not much of a solid. but you can't float shit in jello without the hot liquid stage. i'm sure there is some technical term for this.

right now i'm steaming hot jello and i need some time to cool. but what i do is i go back to the poem, i read it aloud to a friend. send it to my faithful poets, and see if i would do the same thing again. generally, i would. even if it were to be the end of something, a relationship. a job. whatever, it is not without me stating my ultimate truth. from that place alone do i advance.

so, i did it again, spilled it all out there, splayed my chest and revealed myself.

and sometimes, it's a bit scary, but not a boogie man scary, just a vulnerable, i must do this kind of scary. like a hermit crab venturing out for a new shell. he's outgrown the last one, has to find a new one. it must be.

i outgrow a lot of shells. that's all i'm saying.

but it is the way of hermit crabs. they don't finally move into one for good. they have to keep looking, it's who they are.

it's who i am.

so i've shuffed off another poem.

and i'm looking to settle into the next. until then, i'm defenseless. but i have learned how to live this way. it is essential to my work. the poems present themselves, even unformed, and i crawl in and live a while with them. get to know them. until they tell me who they are.

and for a while, it feels like home.

and i am safe.

where does sunday find you

2011-04-17T07:21:00.000-07:00

i'm still in my pjs on my best friend's couch. she ran out to do something, and i'm whittling away at the minutia of my life. things that must get done at some point. calendar splayed beside me, poems stewing in my brain, projects to accomplish. it's all there, waiting for me. the thing about it is, it will get done when it gets done. for the moment, i want to sit and write.

i live my life with no expectation. i'm told this is a very evolved way to be. i'm not entirely sure how i maintain it, or how i arrived at it, it just is. i don't try to understand it, i'm just grateful for it.

now if i could stop acting out when i'm angry, since i've recently gotten back in touch with my anger, i'd sure love to find some way to deal healthily with my angry responses. how does one begin to process reaction. i'm not entirely sure. i've tried clipping the blue wires, and the green, the red one must be respected. and that the timer starts counting down again on occasion, troubles me. i've done all i know how to do to disable the destructive features of my life. but there is still that viable connection to anger. at least it's not rage anymore. though i do get hot sometimes, i don't rant like i used to.

trying to drive better too. sometimes, i think the things that happen are wakeup calls. we must heed them. my little fender bender was the universe saying,

pay attention.

so i shall try. to be present to my car, my driving, the way i am to the rest of my life. maybe this, too will help with the irritations i sometimes feel behind the wheel.

being humbled, as i was when i clipped the suv, i kept apologizing and wishing it could have been different. but all told, it was what it needed to be, i guess. i think all that happens is what need happen. for us to grow. to learn. to change.

i'm trying to be a mindful driver. it took a fenderbender for me to realize that.

i did acquire a piece of art this weekend, and it is leaning up against the table, i just can't stop looking at it. i guess that means it was meant to be mine.

the valkyries, warrior horsewomen of norse tradition. this is the kind of thing i want my daughter's eyes to glimpse every day. the kind of thing i want to see. it moves me, beyond words. that is what i call soulful art. one that inspires.

from the editor's desk

2011-04-15T05:32:00.000-07:00

i will spend the day in the editor's chair at the paper i'm freelance reporting for. what a rush. i will be editing the entire tuesday edition, and today is where i begin lining up me duckies.

there is no apprehension about it, just joy. i'm ready for this, i've been ready for this. now i get to do it.

my editor says my work is

great

he's a creative writer too, so we are coming at this thing from the same vantage point. it's exciting.

i was walking to the bus stop yesterday to pick up my girl, and on the way back we noted a small slithering

he had been there who knows how long. it took all his might to get to the edge of the road, i'm sure,
so i bent over and picked him up. his tongue lolling to the side, his entrails slightly protruding, i knew he would not last long. but if anyone could help him, my neighbor could, she owns a snake.

alas, his wounds were fatal. and he took his last breaths in my hands. his little body struggling to breathe. i gave him a cool drink of water before he died, then set him on a rock to bask and make the transition to the next life. my daughter and i drummed and kept vigil beside him.

i imagine she thinks i'm strange, but every one, every thing deserves to not have to die alone.

and so we waited until he had left us, no more craning the broken little jaw, or writhing of his slight tail. he was still. gone cold in spite of the warmth of the rock.

and so, we watched him make the transition. and then we walked away

what was it

2011-04-12T17:17:00.000-07:00

today was strange, but in the manner of strange, it never bothered her much. just that she hopped so lightly from bed, she didn't think she'd be trudging home exhausted.

sometimes we need help, so she made it to the safety of her best friend, together they shared their lives, the mundane stuff. the stuff you everyone is not privy to. it was in those moments of near tedium, that they laughed and entertained each other.

thank you for running around with me,

she said.

it had become their custom, to run errands together. even though it involved a forty five minute drive. the company was worth the effort. late one night after their even had been unexpectedly cancelled, they walked the abandoned aisles of the grocery store. talking, laughing, comparing prices.

sometimes her best friend would get mad,

you're so irritating,

she'd say. our heroine had just picked up a grabber for the geriatric and vertically challenged to reach top shelves and walked over to her best friend and slipped it up under her coat and grabbed what flesh she could. anything to annoy. it was a gift she had. they would fight but not that often, because it was true about them both. they had learned how to be around each other without requiring the other be anyone else.

now if she could just find that in a partner.

of course she can.

of course she will.

she could no longer resist

2011-04-11T18:03:00.000-07:00

they called to her, drew her in with their beauty,
their delicate faces, the gentle slopes of their necks
the fragrance, she breathed in deep
and could not walk away

so finally, she brought them home

the black petunias
three shades of pink begonias
sherbet zinnias and rusty marigold seeds

they raked the water into the dusty water barrel

it's like baking,

her daughter said

as the dry dirt mixed with lifegiving water the three pronged fork stirring the batter

we need more water baby

the watering can refilled, they troweled holes large enough for the root balls

she gently released them from the starter pots and her daughter set them in place, they tucked the root balls into the moistened soil and tamped down with their fingers.

a moment of tenderness in an otherwise distant day of school and work. that they could kneel together around this one planter and enact the sacrament of sowing, was evidence of a turning in their lives.

she mixed the seeds in an amaryllis teacup her neighbor had just presented her with, and her daughter scattered the seeds before they watered again.

to keep the cats at bay, they upturned tomato cages around the tender plantings.

they would bloom, the bees will come, the beauty of spring was irresistible

stranger days

2011-04-10T15:13:00.000-07:00

it's curious, how life happens. i'm not sure i understand it and when i think i'm beginning to, something happens. it all shapeshifts on me and i'm baffled again.

but that's alright, maybe it's better this way. like finding that field of flowers unexpectedly.
maybe that is where the wonder lies, in the unknown. the unknowable.

i have to keep heading in the direction i think i'm supposed to go, but living on the east coast has robbed me my navigational savvy. i used just head opposite the beach and be going east. though that didn't serve me well on some occasions, when it most counted--i guess in terms of onlookers it "mattered"--i say this because once at a powwow, we were all camping together. and everyone pointed their tent doors east. so i plop mine down, not realizing i could just point my door the same direction as everyone else's, so i go west.

the good thing about that was, it worked for me.

maybe that's my direction, opposite of the crowd. whatever that means. though it sounds pretty predictable, and i don't like predictable.

so i sat by the river this morning, had a lovely cup of tea on the porch, and somehow lost my groove midday. though i've just had a hot soak and hope i'll find it again.

what to do, maybe the opposite of what everyone else is doing.

maybe not.

first poems

2011-04-09T05:13:00.000-07:00

after a long dry, or perhaps, in this case, a marathon of creativity--or something akin to creativity--, and jawing about creativity, hear, a master's program. the first poems to come in the clear, on their own (though i did oblige myself to turn them in, so i'm a little ahead of the gun on that one, but i think my being done is more a fact of the matter, than actuality at the moment), are like the first buds of spring.

the delicate crocus, hearty, brave, brightening up the brown fade of winter.

and now, the goldenrod are blooming.

spring is gearing up, the little ones are gestating. (or incubating)

and my mind is, thankfully, doing the same.

after so long, what does one write about. how does one write. i've come from a land where all we speak of is craft. a thing with as much appeal to me as roadkill. though i look, i try to figure out what it is there on the side of the road, and in what state of decomposition it is in. that's about how i feel about talking craft all day. it's nice to be able to identify things to satisfy my morbid curiosity (really, who doesn't look), but it's nice to not have to go scrape it up and find some way to make a living from it.

though i've known a few masters of reworking roadkill, literally, not pertaining to the metaphor above. i don't know what it means to master craft and i don't want to know.

creativity is such a unique experience. the way we set words down, what we're trying to get across.

it's such a personal journey.

which is why, when this poem came, it was nice to hear my friend's sigh.

that exhalation signals the muse is stronger than any program.

craft is for the critics to discuss, dismantle, analyze, but i've never been about that in poetry. it has always been my soul expression. and i'm just grateful, that remains the case.

delighted

2011-04-07T12:46:00.000-07:00

it began to come true, her dreams.
not in any one person, not in any particular way, just little the little things she began to notice and appreciate.

getting up in the morning wasn't a chore.

she waited on the cement guard rail for the bus, and her child smiled at her as they met eyes at the end of the day.

the green was beginning to break through after the long cold wet. the dampened heart. time is upon us for singing birds and blooming flowers.

they stood together talking about which bouquet they liked, and why. she wasn't a spendthrift, but she couldn't justify two bundles of roses, or could she. they couldn't decide so they went to the potted plants,

they're all doomed,

her girl said to her. they laughed.

pretty much anything we choose is doomed,

she replied.

they wandered over to the mismatched bundles of wildflowers, they couldn't decide, they were all so lovely, and ultimately, she got sick of trying to decide and they walked away.

we should come stand in front of the flowers every week, we enjoy them so much.

but they couldn't stand dooming any of them to wilt and fade under her care. though she tried, she over watered the succulents, and didn't water the thirsties. she enjoyed them though, even as they grew limp and faded. she tried to extend their lives.

they're all doomed, that's why i prefer cut flowers. any more time i can give them is a bonus. they're already dead.

kind of morbid approach to the bouquet, but her girl was used to it.

so they return home without the flowers, but grateful.

they walk by the river, through the mossy grasses, talking about the day.

eight hours is a long time to be apart, and that she smiles at me when she comes home, makes me smile back.

it's all good. every last thing.

and she began to understand what it meant to feel good.

she allowed herself to feel it. feeling good is like a butterfly, it can startle away. or be crushed if grasped too tightly. but if you sit quiet enough, for long enough, you will find, there may even be a chance you'll see them break free the cocoon.

she felt that way, like she had just awaken from a long slumber.

and had emerged with the most beautiful wings.

play me

2011-04-07T03:09:00.001-07:00

i don't know how to explain it, why i would even try. but i finally played the hand drum i've been carrying around for years. as i walked to the river, it seemed so excited it played itself. which made me smile.

for an hour, i sat beside the mahwah river with my drum. listening. learning.

always wondering, why did it take a year for me to actually do this. not sure. life happens, i guess.

i remembered all the people who have sat with me beside that river, i have let them go.

i remembered all that has happened to now, and i let it go.

the river is willing to carry anything away.

i watched for my visitor but was surprised only by mayflies. though they are lovely skittering across the water like a shaky foal on spring grasses.

i'm wide awake. busy day.

today i will make time to sit beside the hudson. i'll be just a stone's throw away.

the birds are raucous and bidding me to rise.

life is magical.

she took her by the hand

2011-04-06T10:19:00.000-07:00

we went on our first hike of the season.

nothing strenuous,

i said. they asked if i wanted to try, and i always game for a challenge, said

yes.

four and a half hours later, we emerged bone weary, but laughing about the wonders we had experienced.

we stood atop high point and saw the city.

we perched on rocks above a waterfall, marveling.

on the way up, my girl started complaining and i talked her through it.

i can't let her convince herself she can't do it,

i told the women.

she can do anything.

but four hours later, i was exhausted and trudging up a steep incline.

one of the women got behind my girl and spoke kindly to her.

another one stopped on the path ahead of me and said,

take my hand.

she stood there waiting for my girl to reach her.

we were so tired, all of us, but she stopped and waited. she walked my daughter out of that valley, and i just kept trudging along. so grateful.

there are very few times, as a mother, my tank is completely dry.

that was one of those times. i could not have mustered the umph to get us both out of there, but i didn't have to.

we trudged up the mountain together, and relieved that someone was speaking encouragement to my child, i went ahead and joined the leader.

the woman who had gone behind my girl joined us and said,

she's stronger when she leads.

so when they'd reached the top of the valley, i asked her if she wanted to lead us out.

she said

yes,

my girl lead the ragtag bunch of hikers out of the forest.

and with great relief, we made it to my best friend's house where i promptly passed out on the couch.

i couldn't shake that image though, of someone whom we'd just met, reaching out and saying,

take my hand.

round about midnight

2011-04-04T20:32:00.001-07:00

i wish i were in dreamland now. but here i am, thinking. i'm not the type to just lay there and do nothing, so i am up. processing.

tomorrow is a big day. one thing on tap is a lecture at suny newburgh that is closely related to my master's critical thesis. whether or not the instructor and i hit it off remains to be seen, but i will be there, thesis in hand, just incase.

then, i get to sit in the editor's chair for three days at the paper i'm working with. this is a huge privilege since i'm a newby to journalism, but i'm not a newby to editing. so my editing resume being what i handed to the paper is probably what got me this gig. i'm so grateful.

what do you want next,

she asked.

the smile widened across my face,

i haven't decided yet.

when you do, it will be yours.

a lot of things are happening quickly in my life at the moment. for that i am grateful.

my daughter is strong and happy. for that i am grateful.

my friends are close to me. for that i am grateful.

my family is far away, but know i love them, for that i am grateful.

decide what you want, that is half the battle to getting it. this is something i've come to learn.

i have no expectation for this life. i trust. that is all.

but the possibilities are endless, and i want a little extra to give away. without strings. to gift to strangers, even.

enough to share.

and peace. i always want that.

in the news

2011-03-30T08:10:00.000-07:00

i am hoping my articles come out sooner than later. i have written six of them so far. decided early on that i want to be the fair unbiased type of reporter, not a bloodletter. i'm trying to hear all the voices, not just the resounding ones. perhaps it helps that i'm not a part of that community per se. i'm removed and objective.

trying to land another gig with another paper. if i could get a few of these going, it would be something.

today i had a choice to make, initially i made the wrong one then my mind flooded with the reasons why that is wrong. the cost was potentially too great, unbearable, so i relented and it will take some doing to unmake this choice, some humble pie to eat, but i will eat it and smile.

again, i found a certain flood of peace come over me when i recanted and changed my decision irrevocably. i must correct the situation and move forward. all is right in my world.

i dreamt of a long lost friend last night. someone i haven't seen in my mind's eye for ages. i still couldn't reach him, but i saw him there as clearly as i am seeing these keys, this computer. he was present in my dreams, though much had changed.

sometimes i think, it is enough to know the love you give is never wasted. the love you splurge on others. the love you lavish on yourself, is an investment. though you may never see a tangible return, love given, love entrusted betters the world. i believe this. so now the task is to move forward unjaded.

naturally when one recoils from a loss, it is easier to scar over, to harden after a wound, but it is not for the best. sometimes that scarred flesh can be rehabilitated, the scarred soul can be restored. but sometimes, it gets locked into the downward spiral of hurt and anger. i don't want that anymore.

even when there is someone i love whom i can't be in relationship with, namely any number of members of my family. i love them no less, i simply can't be in relationship with them. bottom line. no judgment. i understand my limitations, and want them to not have to bend or break for me. i can move on. i can move forward. it is all good.

then, in that forward movement, joy comes. peace.

i'm planning a visit back to my homeland. the hardest part for me of being there is that i haven't been able to hold this line. to be who i am today in new york. i revert to type. i don't want to do that anymore. old patterns be damned, i'm evolving.

so i will go back to cali, and break new ground. break new bread. hug the ones i love so dearly but am so far from physically.

we can only do the best we can. i tell my daughter this all the time.

do i make right, selfless decisions always? hardly. i wish.

but one look at my daughter's face and it is all rendered in clarity. the choices we make will be borne out by our children. love them. love yourself. be good to one another.

i believe this.

run toward the roar

2011-03-28T14:29:00.001-07:00

an analogy i heard once always stuck with me. it said, when a lion is stalking prey, the lionesses flank then encircle the creature, while the lion roars. when the lion roars, the creature turns on its heels (as anything hearing a roar would), and runs right into the claws of the waiting lionesses.

the lesson, run toward the roar. toward the very thing that scares you.

sometimes i feel this is all i do. finding aged toothless lions, a shadow of fear, something that incites a reaction by the imagination more than anything. it's as if someone has a cardboard cutout of a lion and a music box recording and is projecting the sound from behind the cutout, and only by approaching this fearsome creature, is one ever clued in to the fact that it's a sham. fear is a sham.

i have come to believe this wholeheartedly. but sometimes, like a moment earlier today, it gripped me and my blood ran cold.
i sat wide eyed and motionless for a moment, then i pursued it. followed the fear to its inevitable demise as a whiff of smoke.

i do not always have this kind of courage. sometimes i run and run myself ragged before stopping to see there is nothing chasing me but my wild imagination. the idea of what could be after me.

crunched my car this weekend. that car has been through it with me. i hate seeing it in the mechanic's lot, out of play for a few days. but my pony is strong and i'm sure will have at least eight more lives. seeing as this is the first time in all our adventures my dear pony has had to be sidelined.

the thing about it is, i got to do everything i planned and so looked forward to because my car kept running. even after i clipped the suv and took out my headlight, my pony kept running. purring even. it loves me.

that's the thing about this life, connections. i'm so connected to people and things, it's as if there is some great energic network of which we are all a part. i'm sure this is the case. anyone can see.

but cars?

the inanimate?

don't know. i don't ask those kinds of questions because they seem absurd. but tell me don't you feel a kindred to some things, even inanimate things? better yet, to creatures? there has been this hangabout vulture, i don't know what he wants, but i've never been so close to a vulture. and so i talk to him. ask him how he's doing. he just walks away. a large bird, and he's probably only an juvenile.

but his ease with himself, his gangly feet and unappealing profile, the blackness of his skin which i admire. he just walks about like he knows something, something i once knew. we all go down to dust i say, we all go down to dust.

and the vulture flies away, and we are safe in pony, and i trust the lion is just a figment of my overactive imagination. i believe and trust. i will not let that go. not even when i am most afraid.

i will stare fear in the eye, and topple over the cardboard cutout, just to get a glimpse of what is really haunting me.

nothing.

happy birthday

2011-03-23T15:41:00.000-07:00

no i haven't forgotten, i just don't hang my head anymore, and that is how you'd like it, i'm sure.

but i just had to say it.

i will be beside you

2011-03-20T19:45:00.000-07:00

a friend writes to me and asks me to stay with her, i promise to be beside her. what else is this life for but to be there for and with those we love. i know i speak of love, and to those who know me, i probably overuse the word, but it's not from an excess of idealism, it's what makes my life mean something. the people.

seems wherever i go, wherever i end up, i find my way, or they find their way to me, these beautiful souls who adorn my life, like so many glimmering stars. the night is nothing without them. i would miss them if they were gone. i got used to not seeing the sun rise and set, but i can still look up, from wherever i am and see the stars. even the moon hides her face at night, but the stars hold fast. in a way that grounds me.

i've been a nomad most of my life. i don't understand the wherefores of what i do or why. i sometimes don't know how people can stand being around me. i walk away when it would be polite to stay, i don't smile when i should, but laugh when it is not appropriate. and yet, those who speak this language of the broken, who exist on fringes and wish upon stars, those people find me, or i find them. however that works.

people are my home, my kindred, my country. i would like a place to know. that i could be there through the years, but it doesn't seem to be the way of it for me. seems i'm like a band of gypsies and i have to get around.

but the dots are connecting, the constellations are defining themselves and i'm beginning to understand the mystery behind what seemed a few smatterings of light in an otherwise dark night. the darkness makes the light possible. the light makes the darkness possible. however that works, i don't pretend to know, but i am grateful, that when i am holed up something glimmering and golden gets through, usually in the form of a friend.

what do my dreams look like

2011-03-18T11:16:00.000-07:00

i've been thinking about it for a very long time, since someone who loved me once asked me to think about it. i haven't forgotten. i'm finishing up my master's and setting out on my own, to a land of clover and honeybees.

i'm organizing my taxes and boy does that suck. but i'm better prepared than i thought i was. if i can get some of it back, great, if not, so be it. but i will try. i started my business this year and made a bit of money, i hope to increase that as the years go on to be my own boss and a name in the industry, if, for nothing else than the quality of my work.

my dreams, i want peace. that's all i've ever wanted. i'm closer to it now than ever. i can feel it brush against my skin and sometimes it stays and i revel in it.

i want certainty, but know this is not possible in this life, so i settle for this, the certainty that trapped is an illusion. there is always a way to move forward, sometimes it requires a season of bondage, a moment of captivity, but there is always freedom in the heart and soul. i have come to know this with every fibre of my being. freedom is a state of mind.

i want independence, and i have it.

i want companionship, and i have it when i want it, which is better than what i had before. i would still like to know there is someone abiding with me, beside me, through all my dark nights, and footlights, that someone is there for me. regardless. i don't know that yet. i look forward to knowing it someday.

i want my girl to be able to do whatever she wants. and for the most part, for what i can manage, she can. the things i cannot get for her, i cannot manage, i explain why and we work it out. life is not a short order situation, some things are worth waiting for. i think she gets this. though i am not so good with delayed gratification, i hope she is learning to live with it. to appreciate it. and sometimes, i think she does.

i want to laugh. loud and hard. till my sides ache. to be with those people who inspire me and delight me. mostly, i am. those are the people i love. but i want only those people around me. and sometimes that is a demand that is not looked up on favorably. there is something to be said for networking and playing nice, but i haven't time in my life for it. when i look around at all i've accomplished, i'm kind of stunned. i've the fewest hours i've ever had since i went back to work about five years ago. and i'm just finding time for things. how did i do it before? i don't know. momentum i guess. and the understanding of those i love.

i want to enjoy life. to love deeply. to live freely.

and so i shall.

hurts so good

2011-03-17T09:35:00.000-07:00

went to my yoga/pilates fusion class yesterday and about two or three minutes into it, i kid you not, my thighs locked up. the rest of the time i was in agony. counting down the minutes, and an hour is a long time to be clock watching and rolling around on the floor in pain.

i'm so out of shape from my time off, and i've got my stamina back to a decent level, i don't have to dive into bed after every outing, sometimes i can be out and about a whole day again, but i can only stand for up to six hours, no more. any more and it wipes me out. that isn't necessarily a bad thing.

it's just time for me to find my bliss in the form of my day job.

i get to order my diploma and submit my graduate lecture description, and this feels like progress. soon, very soon, it will be done. my prof said to me,

you've trusted your life to words and they sing.

the jury is still out on the title poem, but i explained all the reasons for the choices i have made in my poems, and she understands. how that changes anything, i don't know, but i think the fact that one can explain why one made a certain choice is something. i'm grateful for this journey, it has been long and painful, but so much growth is evident. i can articulate the whys of what i do now, not just do the stuff. that's something. not like i want to have to explain myself, i would like the poetry to speak for itself, and i think outside of academia it does, but inside, where i've abandoned all punctuation save the comma, period, Mdash, and apostrophe, it's hard to accept as a stylistic choice. but i've finally got something here, that is bigger than stalking the dead. something i will be proud to publish, whether through a traditional publisher or on my own, i have something here that i think will make it on its own merits.

i've had to let a lot go, but there was one surprise addition. my prof wanted me to include a poem i sent her as an explanation for why i did something in another poem and she said,

include it, it demonstrates your range.

that isn't a bad thing.

the collection is vast, as collections go. i am as pleased with it as if i had only had my hands on it. some would call that stubbornness, but as i told one professor during a workshop,

i'm approaching an ideal in my mind. a vision. and that poem is as close as i can get at the moment.

she replied,

well, you're approaching it at a gallop.

as far as praise goes, i will take that response. i still don't believe poetry is made by committee. that we can alter a poem and end up down the road and around the corner and call that revision. poems are birthed in the soul, this will always be my perspective. they are an expression of spirit. the more i come to understand about poetry, the more i truly believe this.

i am excited for what is to come.

all the shots you take

2011-03-09T04:42:00.000-08:00

again, i'm grateful for metallica. i swear the song shoot me again is my mainstay at times like these.

apparently someone in my life is trying to sabotage me, the thing is, i don't go down without a fight. so i'm swinging back. i try not to go there, but this is personal attack, has nothing to do with anything else.

won't really say more now, except that i'm fighting.

aneeme

2011-03-07T17:03:00.000-08:00

my girl is dragging me to my first anime convention. i imagine it will be full of shrieking teens and i had just better have my ipod fully charged. it's in brooklyn, so i will drive to assure i get home with as much time for shut eye as possible. though i'm sure i'll be a zombie come sunday when i open at six am, having left brooklyn at 10pm the night before. such is life. she tells me i'll be the conference mom, but that's how it goes.

we're taking in two concerts too, her first, which i was dying to go to, my baby's first concert a band i love and she loves, can't wait. and since i couldn't wait i got tickets for a second show in nj, it was iffy whether or not there would be a ticket for me the first time around. so nee and i will go twice, which is pretty cool. i will definitely have to bring ear plugs as prince was loooouuuud and they will be even louder.

my apartment looks like a bomb hit it. i had a packet due today which i turned in on friday because i was sick of looking at it. i'm so glad it is out of my hair. i hope my prof can see my responses are thoughtful and not just outright negation of her critique. there are reasons i do what i do. one poem she wanted me to cut off this list of things i took from my ex because "it would be interesting to end" at another point. but the whole point of the poem, it occurred to me is counting coup. i have to have that list in there. there are so many subtle tribal things that i had to explain, who knows.

i'm debating on sending my book out to a publisher, if they will take it as is, i will let it go, but if they can't i will just continue to self publish.

trying to build up the energy to do the dishes and clean my apt, but it ain't gonna happen tonight. the best i can do is rest and hope i can face the music tomorrow.

i went a very long time without a true day off since jury duty took me to the city both of my days off. though my new boss has shortened my hours considerably, i have to learn how to manage my time, i tend to cocoon a lot. who knows, maybe i need to.

curious bedfellows

2011-03-06T16:51:00.000-08:00

i will admit something i don't say often, because there really is no point in saying it, but i will say it now, and move on. i have no idea what i'm doing. i'm making it up as i go. i find the flow and navigate from there, when i hit still water, i drift and spin in the still cool because the rapids took everything i've got to navigate. i'm in a still moment now. a deep dark cool that allows me to catch my breath and move into tomorrow with ease.

i missed seeing my tats, this has been a long cold winter, so yesterday the sun was out and i sat, tank top clad, in the sun, soaking up the rays. i closed my eyes and let everything, everyone i should say, i love go.

you are free, and you have always been free.

i have to remind myself that i, too, am free. trapped is the illusion, i believe this.

so, i stand at the precipice and wonder where the winds will carry me (to change metaphors). i do the best i know how and hear that resounding yes in my soul, the only yes i follow. i have to not let the fact that my companions dwindle in number then replenish, bother me because it has never been a numbers game. i want true companionship, not masses of noise.

that's one thing i noticed when i was on the train to the city, those with a traveling companion. i'm not sure i will ever have one besides my daughter, but she is the best company i could ask for. i have to remind myself that she, too, is free, and that i have to teach her how to let go.

she has my talent of slipping out without a goodbye and disappearing. we do this, i think it is our nature, to slip away and keep moving.

i want what matters, and i'm mired in the nonessential at the moment, though i have to work, i can't seem to shake free from the job that has become only burden to me. so i do my time, and hope i see the signs marking the exit. i need the first exit possible.

my favorite boss is gone now, she transferred out. i have been having these what are you going to do with your life conversations, and while they are very motivating, you don't know how many people i've helped leave my life, i miss them. and so, my comfort is gone. we keep in touch, sure, but there is something to being physically present to a person. to seeing their eyes and feeling their energy.

i don't really know how to describe it. i'm tired of the unknown, yet that is where i have chosen to live my life. sometimes i envy those people who are from somewhere. a woman in jury duty mentioned that she'd lived in her home her entire life. i can't even conceive of that concept. the longest i've lived in one home is seven years, in my entire life, seven years.

so, my task at the moment is to settle down. to let my roots sink in. to be here. to let these people, whomever they are, whomever they will be, know me. and to know them.

we do not choose our neighbors, nor those we love. but we can give them access.

i have to remember not to close the world out as i sometimes do when i get uncertain. but to press on, to move forward, to keep going because there is something just around the bend, a curious incident that will change my life for the better, and i can't wait to know what that is. i've been waiting so long.

let it come.

happy birthday grams

2011-03-04T10:44:00.000-08:00

i don't stop and think about it anymore, i wouldn't have today, but my sister mentioned she was going to the beach to visit my grams. now i have to write about it.

i spent the better part of the past three days in the company of a grandma who was very much like my own. she even scared away some guys she said wanted to rob me. she gave them the ojos, while i was shopping in chinatown for my girl's bday. she lectured me on being alert and looking at people who are around. she is so sweet. i hadn't thought i'd miss her, but i do. i don't have too many people who fight for me like that. who just take me under their wing and chase off a couple of bad guys. i looked at her and said,

you are my guardian angel.

and she smiled. probably thought i was crazy.

i met her because the first day of jury duty i wanted to sit by someone who smelled good. she had a look about her that said, i smell good. so i sat by her, and we talked a bit the first few hours of that first day.

i had no idea if i'd ever see her again, but when i arrived for my next stint at jury duty, there she was in the ladies room washing her hands beside me. and i said,

hi, i met you at the assembly room,

and smiled. she acknowledged me.

then we had to sign in by number, so we all lined up and i got a whiff of her again, and said,

you still smell good.

:) and smiled. she probably thought i was nuts. i think i may be sometimes. who says that shit to people?

anyway, she sat by me every chance after that, and we were two whole days on our asses in court waiting to be called for the selection process, and so when we could we would talk. we had lunch together, we bought candy and met to walk around at breaks.

she's back in the bronx now, and i'm back in my little apartment, my tiny, feels so much like home and mine i love it apartment. with the photo of my grams and grandpa looking down on me, that i have to admit, i miss her. this is not news. everyone who knows me, knows this. but i don't often stop anymore on her birthday, or the anniversary of her death to say it.

but i'm saying it now, i miss her.

happy birthday gramsy. wherever you are, i hope you're still dancing.

restless

2011-02-28T08:30:00.000-08:00

this weekend was a blur and though i try not to be exhausted this opening after a week of closing schedule takes its toll. not much can be done about that, but i've slept a bit and feel human again.

considering a lot of revisions on my work and that is taxing in itself. it's not that the revisions are so major, many of them i even agree with and accept, it's just the poem that is slated for a major overhaul is one that i am deeply connected to. i am told to change it for the program and do what i want later. would it were so simple for me.

the thing about poetry is, it's not prose. so when i'm told to strengthen my verb (which is a phrase i am borrowing from a past critique) and then in the space of the same poem told that i am relying too heavily on verbs i wonder which words to focus on. fewer strong verbs is i guess the answer, but again, were it that simple i'd have done it.

there is a redundancy that i use, a way i reiterate. nothing. nada. zilch. like that. i say the same thing in a different way. when someone asks me to cut the nada and zilch, i flinch a bit because while the words may be the same, in the same vein, it is the repetition i'm after. i am told that a prosaic consideration is not to use unnecessary words, but this is poetry. is poetry bound to the same rules as prose? i believe not. that is my dilemma. if i'm doing something for a sound device, as i notice when i alter a verb in a line from dangling to dangle, the sound of the line changes. the cadence changes. i try to explain this, but i talk mostly with prose writers and they look at me.

just as when the fonts on the page are not doing what they could, i balk. i have this one word with accents and the accents in the chosen font disrupt the visual impact of the word. slightly mauling the word, so, to me, this is a font issue and cause for concern. a new font considered. if i use a sanserif i can fit an entire poem on a page in this particular font. however, if i go with my mainstay serif, the poem extends a foot on a second page. in a thesis when page count rules, this seems to be an easy solution, go with the sanserif to get in the pages. to preserve the layout of the poem, because when a poem kicks onto a second page, i prefer to lay it out on facing pages, so the poem is still on one visual field. (i know, i'm such a dork)

poetry, my friends, is art. we use words and negative space to create the visual impact.

so, the issue remains, preserve the page number though the sanserif font alters the look of an accented word or keep searching for a serif font that works.

i am going to first try a different font for the accented passage in question. fortunately, it is an epigraph and can be set in a separate font, though i do not go for any more than three fonts in a book, this would be my third font.

all i want is a clean poetic line. an image that is presented on the page the way i see it. and a font that lends itself to the poem.

these are the nerdy considerations on my mind of late. they are pressing. i had a flash of insight last night, as i had put together my poetry collection in a particular way the best i could. the final three poems were remnants and i wasn't sure how to exit the book. so last night i get this flash and had to jump out of bed to see if it is what i did with those poems, how i ordered them because the overall theme of the book is addressed, summed up, if you will, in these concluding poems. lightning strike, if i can pull it off (and if it passes my prof's muster), and sure enough, i had them in that order. sigh of relief, off to bed.

my dreams were troubling, stress dreams a friend calls them.

though i have very little to stress about, she laughs as the line falls from her fingers, i am still having stress dreams.

i'm awake now, the day is new, the task at hand will resolve itself.
and the poems will grow from revision.

one thing i said to my prof is, i don't want to end up around the corner and down the street with these poems in revision. because that is not revising, that's mining a poem for new work. if i'm going to revise this poem, let it remain true to the spirit of this poem and improve, not evolve. there is a time and place for evolution, under the guise of revision is not it.

peace.

bullsigh

2011-02-22T17:07:00.001-08:00

the center cannot hold. i think that is a line from a william stafford poem, i am going to have to track it down. my center feels all stretched and splayed, like it is a fibrous membrane where it once was solid

how to find my center again. i hadn't thought i'd wandered so far off that i'd lost sight of everything that grounds me, but i think i have.

nursing some fairly serious wounds at the moment. but all ends well.
how does it?
i don't know.
it's a mystery.

title poem

2011-02-22T14:25:00.001-08:00

so my prof wants me to overhaul the title poem in my manuscript. i find this deeply troubling because i don't necessarily agree with what is being requested and i'm not sure i know how to find a middle ground. i guess i just better start slashing and bleeding. trying something is better than doing nothing. but it seems to me the things i keep explaining are explained within the poem and i hate saying, don't u see that? because then i don't know if they see it only because i've explained it (that must be the case, as it was an issue before the explanation) or what.

so on top of all that, i have to navigate the city tomorrow for jury duty. may the gods favor me because i never really know where i'm going when i go. i have to just try my luck and hope i arrive on time. i would really like to be on a case but i don't know that it is wise. though i'd rather go to the city than do my job any day.

i have a cat asleep across my chest, and another at my feet. i'm going to follow their lead and snuggle in for a nap.

ssshhhh

2011-02-22T06:12:00.000-08:00

there are still these moments i find myself calling out to you, almost in spite of my conscious mind. i don't try to stop it anymore. i don't try to ignore it anymore, i kind of consider it like when my grams died, and how i miss her still. yes, it's that way with you.

meetings today, don't want to go but i've no out. though i've made significant progress on my thesis and come to many conclusions about my work, it's been an interesting process so far, and it has just begun. i'm trying to abandon myself to the process, and by that i mean, go with it. so i've reformatted nearly every poem and i'm in the process of revising. there is much to do but i'm equal to the task and my work will be better for it. even the changes i don't think are right i might go with just to see if they will fly. my conscience roars when i do something that i can't tolerate, so i will just do it and see how much sleep i lose. ;)
what a plan.

in the way of things my unconventional life continues to right itself and i'm grateful. my sister told me a phrase,

i stay in unsafe situations too long because i'm too loyal,

and this is true. even now i struggle to find safe ground in dangerland. but sometimes comfort is what keeps me, even when i'm scared. and that's just sad.

sad or not, it is what it is. i understand that now. i must be about my life. and hope to encounter wonder today.

the art of losing

2011-02-20T18:54:00.000-08:00

is not hard to master. i don't want that to be the lesson i leave this life with. i want to find and be found. always have. never really sure i make that possible for anyone, inclined to hiding, recoiling as i am. not with some strategy in mind, but the way a snail recoils when you touch it's soft opaque antennae. i pull in, shelter, and then slime away when the danger has passed. it is what i do. so easily i don't even really think about it much. though my friends have been pointing it out when they say they miss me. i try to oblige and return, but it's hard for me to stay. to navigate the salt flats i find myself in the midst of. and i'm tired.

i try not to say it, i try not to feel it, i try not to think it, but it's true. i realize when i don't have my girl underfoot, though she's hardly underfoot anymore, i tend to crash. though i've been rather productive the past couple days, i've a week to go. a whole week to go. the city to tame. ha!

jury duty in the city of all places. i love an adventure and this promises to be one. so i will board that train and head on out as if i know where i'm going and put on my la tough and try to enjoy the journey.

i so want a companion though.

and sometimes, i feel it profoundly.

um, yeah

2011-02-16T19:43:00.000-08:00

so i rearranged my apartment, sometimes i just need a different vantage point and i get tired of the same view of the same walls. if i plan to be here a while, and i do, i need to figure out a configuration that works for me. this is better.

but i'm tired now. i hate my job and it needs to change sooner than later. i'm over the novelty or whatever it was that was keeping me there, has kept me there so long. my body needs a rest. and if by rest you think i mean a job where i'm sitting on my ass all day, yes, that is the kind of job i mean. that, or the freedom to come and go as i please. i'd rather come and go, than be stuck on my ass all day.

i am still a bit perplexed about the two poems my prof said i must not leave out of my newest collection. it's not that i don't want them in, it's just that they are more comfortable for me with caps. and i've removed all caps for this collection. i guess i will try them sans caps.

i heard one of them today on my ipod, the swordsman, and it is a poem i'm very fond of. the other, empty of sorrow, is profoundly moving for other reasons.

i'm not saying anything, so i'll go.

wyckedtyrd

2011-02-12T16:59:00.000-08:00

so beat. i slept a bit, now i'm awake. seems my body has to recover from work and that isn't a good thing. today i had some customer telling me i was mad, and i said once,

i'm not mad.

and she said,

a bit.

like she knew and i didn't. people are nuts. i swear.

so many changes are happening so fast, but without the speed we might not follow through. i think sometimes it's easy to back off in fear instead of moving forward. i want to move forward into the unknown. i know the known, and it's time for a change. past time.

so i soaked my feet when i got home, that's how i know it was bad. that and the fact that i could hardly stand by the time i got home. and now i'm wide awake, gotta open tomorrow, so i need to pass out in short order. i checked out a few movies to help ease the transition from here to the dream realm, sometimes when i put on kid movies my brain just clicks off and i go out like a light. it worked with shrek forever after. i was hoping it would work with another movie i checked out but the movie isn't playing. grrr. time to pop a benedryl. the trouble is, i get so tired my body roars a dull ache, and my brain whirrs.

i saw a style editor job was open and i must go apply for it. funny, how i'm contemplating fonts and the next job i see which appeals to me is style editor. not for a fashion magazine, mind you, but for a word situation. i would like to get that. geek out on fonts and pagination like i do and actually get paid. it would be classic if that were the gig i landed. may it be so.

time to go back

2011-02-10T13:28:00.000-08:00

i've had three days off, what have i done with those three days, watched an entire tv series on dvd which was quite good. i rested and did things that had to be done. fought with my friend. estranged myself. the usual.

so now i'm sitting here a mild headache that has been droning all day, and i am ready to go back to work.

it's odd, how i can't wait for a weekend and then do absolutely nothing productive with it. i had some thoughts about my manuscript, about the fonts and pagination, the layout and such, but that's as much as i've got.

i've read a couple poetry books but they didn't move me and i'm contemplating the larger questions as to what makes us want to read, what makes us respond to another's work. i'm beginning to think it's something as selfish as finding ourselves, finding our experience, finding something that makes some sound that echoes in the inner chambers of our hearts. because i can't find anything rational. i wanted to expose myself to more experimental poets and i'm doing that but i find the process in many ways frustrating because i just don't get it. why should i care about something that makes no sense.

but then, isn't that the same question being asked of my work on a smaller scale. on a line by line, word by word scale?

i was telling a friend about question marks in my manuscript, how i'm losing them all, and she shook her head and said,

wow.

these are serious considerations for me.

the way the words play on the page, even the font in which they are set, these are the stuff of poetry.

but is this minutia?

possibly. though my questions don't go away by dismissal. they must be acknowledged and so i will continue to wrestle with these questions. minor though they may seem, until i am satisfied with my decision.

ultimately, these are concessions in some cases, will i sacrifice a chosen serif font for a san serif if it means garnering a few extra pages for additional poems? if someone wants me to incorporate quotes will that detract from my final page count? these questions might be a blessing for someone struggling with not enough material, but that has never been my issue. i have, tend to have, too much material to fit into a book. so what to do?

if i am printing and binding something with my name on it, i would like it to be representative of my work, not just spat out for a credential, though we have previously established i do want this credential.

these are the times i feel i am alone on an island and wish for an artistic soul mate.

maybe my work is fraught with self import, but maybe, it isn't.

this is when i welcome the work week to take me away from conscious focus on my creative questions with a barrage of mundane menial tasks to occupy my time and mind.

work does have that benefit. it is a distraction if nothing else.

stick it where?

2011-02-07T14:01:00.001-08:00

so the other day this customer gives me no small amount of shyte after i tell her she can't tell me how to price her drink. ultimately, she tells me

to stick it

and i said,

you're a peach.

and walked away. sigh. people.

i would really like a job where people don't dump their bad mood on me, i was shaking after our encounter because i was really trying to get through it without succumbing. i think i did good, maybe that is progress. i'd like to think i have a thick skin but i really don't. i get less and less of this behavior so i'm glad i'm working out that karma.

exhausted. there is no other way to say it. this workweek wiped me out. and today, all i could do was say,

can i please leave?

ultimately, i left no earlier than scheduled but it was a bear making it through. i wanted to collapse. so now i have three days off and i'm looking forward to them. i'm going for a therapeutic pedicure on my aching feet tomorrow, and a nice lunch with my friend. we'll have margaritas and good conversation about everything. think we're doing mexican, possibly indian, but we it's more about the conversation than the meal. though it's nice when they compliment each other.

i watched the office marathon in the hours i was off work and able to do little more than veg. it was fitting that was the show that occupied my zone out time. art imitating life? it's really a dumb show, but maybe that's why i like it.

i need a few days to rest, then a short workweek, and hopefully a few more days to rest. my stamina just ain't what it used to be. i can't feel bad about that and i have to be patient with my body. the signals are clear. i'm not there yet. i'm farther than i was, but i have not arrived.

when my feet throb little else can occupy my mind.

i had been watching animal extractors, and for the third time now, i ejected the possum who has taken to my cats' makeshift shelter. i hope that silly possum finds somewhere else to sleep, never seen anything like it, a possum who sleeps on a porch. but there ain't no shortage of food (the bird feeders are constantly full), so he's happy here. i just wish he'd not occupy the shelter. though it is nice, if i do say so myself.

can't even tell a real story at the moment. i'm fried.

understanding

2011-02-03T06:51:00.001-08:00

i'm not sure how much poetry requires sense to make sense. for some poets, not a bit. for others, it reads almost like prose, yet it is not prose. where is the line of demarcation?

sometimes there are images and ideas that i've given clues to a reader within my diction. if a particular reader misses those clues, do i opt to alter the poem for that reader? usually no. even when i have a profoundly brilliant reader whom i want to get it, i refuse to put the cookies on the bottom shelf. i'm not that kind of writer.

so, when something is as clear as i'm willing to make it, it must ride. there are questions to be unanswered in the best poetry. that is what makes you come back for more.

i get that i'm supposed to want to be accessible, and believe me, i have opened many more doors than i had open before. but i can't just go dump my load in the marketplace void of my particular style. i can't.

it's the same dilemma that presents itself each time i go for publication. which is why i'm happy not to be traditionally published. perhaps i'm shortchanging myself by taking this perspective, but i've tried to alter it to no avail.

and when i write like this, and say things the way i say them, some readers comment,

i'm off put by thus and such

but that is my voice. if i change it in the context of the one poem you are viewing, it leaves a blank spot in my voice a studder in my diction that is not inherently mine.

so when kokopelli doesn't make actual sense, i'm cool with that, really, kokopelli doesn't have to make sense for me to accept his presence in my poem. it's about more than one small mind or even one large mind. it's about a story, an image, an idea. there are those who would get it, even my mention of him here is ripe with meaning. but not to all.

i do not write for all. that is what i've come to understand. to accept.

so i will step away from it for a moment because the fire is burning me. and try to cool. come back to it when i'm less impassioned about my vision, my voice. but that will never be. so i'll just go away for as long as i can, then return and push ahead. my conscience has proven it will not let me cave. i'm grateful for that force of strength i do not know from where it comes. but i welcome it. in so many things i have let my vision go, my dream die. but not this. never this. this is my soul expression. if it were less, perhaps i would give it up. but i can't.

and so, i get this, craft matters lecture when i say this kind of thing. but i'm not saying it doesn't. i'm saying, i'm choosing to craft my poems with soul. that is not to say anyone else's poems are void of soul, i do not have an opinion of other's poems unless they solicit it. but for me, for this moment, for theses poems, they are my breath, my sound, my being. and i will not let them become less than they are.

will this be a wise strategy for completing my mfa? well, of course not. but sometimes wisdom must be gained by fighting for something unknown, unexperienced. i just have to let others in and explain a few things. things i've made plain in my diction but apparently too subtly, so i will go there, i will trust that the wisdom of my prof will prevail and that our exchange of respect and willingness will be fruitful. however that is to occur.

the time of revision is at hand. there are some poems i had thought to exclude from this manuscript, two favorites of mine, reminiscent of a dream long passed, but she insists i include them. and so i will.

i cut them because i kept saying,

i've already written that book, i won't do it again.

it's time for the next book. though these poems came after the last book and technically haven't been published yet. my issue is, i don't want the dominant he if the poem, the true stallion confused with the band stallion. how to make this clear.

it appears horses and creatures will continue to have a prominent place in my work.

and now, to invoke the dreamweaver.

snow, snow, go away...

2011-02-01T16:01:00.000-08:00

for some i wish this, my sweet has to dig herself out of the white stuff, while i don't really have to struggle with it. where i live they plow pretty regularly and things stay quite in hand. though, having a tractor and using a shovel are two completely different approaches. and, we haven't been hit like boston has. i sometimes wish i were there to lend a hand.

boston. it's still on my mind, but not on my agenda for a season. which will be well, i'm sure of it. i would like to know what will happen, but for now, i'm just trying to be present and enjoy the unfolding.

i have to read my packet, got it back from my prof. i've only read her letter and one poem where we discussed one comma and i decided to rid myself of the question mark entirely. this is the labor of my semester at the moment, deciding my punctuation. it might seem easy to either remove it all or use it, but it's a tough consideration because where i used line breaks to convey some movement, i'm changing that so it all really needs to be reconsidered.

what i will end up with is a unified stylized manuscript at the end of this and that excites me. i seem to keep having the van gogh discussion. ultimately i now say, van gogh must be van gogh. and deshchidn must be deshchidn. there is no getting around it, i must remain faithful to the vision, the voice. even if, especially if no one gets it.

i've been reading silko and find her a comfort and a kindred. someone who feels like my grandmother speaking to me, explaining the things i feel deep inside but cannot yet articulate.

and i've been very tired. physically exhausted. i'm sure because i'm just getting back into the game. but i gave up my day off today and i felt every minute of it through my entire body. ache, ache, ache. only now, i get a chair and sit down because i can't force myself to stand on a foot that had changed so dramatically.

so, i hope to regain my strength and stamina. and remember, or discover what it means to have fun.

my resolution this year is to have fun, and i've realized, i don't even know what that means. i've changed so much, what does it mean to have fun now? in this skin. at this time of my life? not entirely sure.

catlady

2011-01-29T07:32:00.001-08:00

the whole deal for me right now is to get my stamina back up. i am strong. i am determined, but ten weeks with my foot up in the air took its toll on my stamina. i'm grateful for that time, i would not have been able to focus on my thesis had i not had it, but i am still getting tired. trying not to push it too far. though i had my boss ratchet down my hours significantly, you just can't go from no more than twenty minutes on my foot for ten weeks to eight hours standing and expect that to work out well. so now, baby shifts as much as possible. six hours, that is still a long time, but it's more manageable than eight. at least i don't feel like i'll drop dead after.

my resolution this year is to have fun. i'm not entirely sure that i even know what that means, because when i'm happy and giddy my friend is weirded out by it. am i that glum on a regular basis?

and i had a bad dream last night, strange circumstance, just off enough to freak you out, which is what dreams do. they excel at tweaking details to fuck with the mind.

anyway, i'm awake now, i needed my sweetie to tell me it was just an anxiety dream, and i'm out of it. friends will descend soon and my apt looks like a bomb hit. but i've just been managing and trying to build up stamina. it's not easy.

i had an early first packet, which i turned in last week and i've been reading, feeling kind of lost since then. it's strange. i have to isolate myself and focus on the school work and then when i turn in a paper, there is a strange calm. i guess that is why we all clean our respective houses or apartments post packet.

a lot of changes underway, as usual, i'm having lots of good conversations with the kids at work because i need to help people realize they are not trapped. they can move on in their lives. it took someone fiercely showing me that was the case for me to do something positive. and now, i wouldn't have it any other way. i'm grateful, still.

my cats, i have three now. i try to keep from calling them mine because the idea of having three cats is very, um, catlady. never pegged myself as that. but they needed me. and apparently, i need them.

whatever, we get what we need in this life, ultimately. i believe that.

so, i must get moving, chores need be done. i have the day off. a friend is en route. and these are the good times, remember that. i try to remind myself of that.

it will be well

how will it?

i don't know, it's a mystery.

wrest

2011-01-22T20:35:00.001-08:00

what to say. it's hard, sometimes, encapsulating thoughts. ideas. into something that means something.

my feet are tired so i'm tired. but not necessarily sleepy.

i will soak them and then, hopefully, my cat geenie will climb on my chest where he's taken to sleeping, and we will rest. i stay still and quiet when someone or thing is sleeping on me, so that helps me pass out. one night i had a rumbly tumbly and geenie was disconcerted by that, and could not sleep. this cat makes me so aware of the different sounds and things going on in my home. i guess i'd forgotten to pay attention. or maybe i'm just too tired, that's probably it though i don't like to say it out loud.

i get to sleep in tomorrow. sure the cats will wake me at around four or five and want to get out (i de house trained them). three cats and a tiny apartment aren't a good mix. so unless there is some profound reason why they can't go out, they going out. amen.

their momma just sits and looks in the window, but she hisses at them, and i don't need three cats, i certainly don't need four. she's gorgeous though, those big green eyes and long black and grey hair.

cat talk. that's about all i'm good for at the moment. i will get geenie and we'll watch the dog whisperer. which i think is kind of amusing. when geenie first saw tv on my computer, she was mesmerized. we watch cesar from time to time, and she falls asleep.

my animals are all named for boys if they're girls and girls if they're boys. i guess my version of transgender pets. ha!

i'm tired. too tired to be doing this.

peace kids.

so much for that idea

2011-01-18T23:58:00.000-08:00

i'm wide awake, working on my thesis. retyping all my poems since the formatting is strange and i need to make changes. the conversion from pc to mac has not been kind to my works. hopefully i'm improving them with the tweaks as we go. if not, i guess i'll hear about it.

there is a lot on my mind. i just keep trying to acknowledge it and release it, to settle into my skin and rest. but i'm still wide awake, no point laying there, so i'm up, but sometimes this is worse. at least if i'm still in bed i'm not getting into trouble.

we make our own fortunes in this life. i believe that.

choose who you want to be. be the author or your own story. sometimes i have to remind myself of this when i feel locked in to some nightmarish plot that i wish would just end.

i'm choosing joy to embrace happiness though. i've spent enough time on sadness.

so when i want to cry, i just feel that desire, and it goes away. so curious. that hasn't really happened before. seems before i would just lose myself in sadness. now i'm just restless and wide awake. i much prefer this to that, given the choice.

i was told by a dear friend,

you do not have the luxury of brokenness. you have a little girl that needs you to be whole.

that alone was priceless encouragement. i must function. i must move forward. i must find my way. and i will. i know i will. i want to help her find her way, as i have clambered through the brush alone (or feeling alone), i want to be there, present with her. to aid her, annoy her if need be, just so she knows, i'm beside her.

i want a companion,

i told a friend,

someone to laugh with and enjoy spending time with. for me, right now, that's my daughter.

and i'm glad to say that. she's my favorite person to be around and without her, it just doesn't work.

there was a time i could conceive of her living wherever she wanted, and i'm so relieved, so blessed that she wants to live with me now.

it weighed me down like a thousand stones in my shoes and i was trying to swim.

i'm just grateful she's alive and well and beside me.

until i sleep, i will be productive.

and when i think of you, it will be with gratitude.

icy roads make for dangerous driving

2011-01-18T20:56:00.001-08:00

so we had margaritas, watched a couple movies, i've been working on my poems, and we'll hit the hay soon. but i'm still processing a lot of what is happening. i get advice from those closest to me that i'm in a good place, the right place. and this serves to confirm the peaceful feeling inside.

i do miss her though. it's to be expected. people don't just wander in and out of lives without impact.

but i will let her go. when she comes to mind, i bless her and wish her well on her journey. for here our roads diverge. i will miss her. i do miss her. but it's time. perhaps past time. i've overstayed my welcome in some respects, perhaps many.

setting out is always a mixed bag, there is something coming, new friends, new involvements, new endeavors, and those things will soon fill the place the old held dear. i won't linger here long, as i trust all that happens happens for a reason. and i do not love easily or cheaply, nor do i take it back. so with love, and in love, i wish her well.

for me, there is much to do.

sleep is next on the agenda.

sorting through

2011-01-15T15:13:00.000-08:00

so i'm stowed away in my friend's bedroom, rifling through my poems. i have to lock myself up with my work to even face it sometimes because it is overwhelming in quantity. the task of sorting through this pile of about 123 poems for the best 65 is going to be tough. i'm not doing the same book i've done, so that helps narrow the scope somewhat. i have a rough idea of what is going to happen, but as with the rest of my life, i never know until i know.

i'm tired now, and ready for a nap. why does this always happen when i finally finish all the tasks, and get to the work at hand. although a short nap isn't out of the question as i did renumber all the pages and have everything ready for an initial read through. this is going to be a book about and for women. at least i believe that to be the case.

perhaps i'll curl up in that ball now and get back to this.
sleep sounds good.

zzzzzzz