poems.

i have been posting on a friend's blog, but have thought to revamp my own. i have more poems laying in shadow than have ever graced readers' eyes. it is time to bring them to light. so i will begin, posting here, some of the works that i stumble across and sometimes find again for the first time.

poetry is timeless and it may do some good now, to share the darkness as i have known it. particularly at this time when all feels so fleeting. meaning. truth. commonality are what soothe at present. and so it shall be.

rusty

it has been a lifetime.

what has changed. working on my third master's, this time, social work.

i am looking forward to a break, i'm tired.

somethings remain the same. though many things have changed. i am going to go back through the old tunes and see if any still make a pleasing sound.

maybe i will remember how to do this. or find a new way.

un.breakable

i had migrated away from the breakable dishes many years ago. i'm the one who breaks things, butter dishes fly when i swing the fridge door open wildly, coffee pots (i've broken more than i care to admit, WHY do them make them so fragile?), countless plates, bowls, and cups.
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i embrace the glass is already broken mantra, because largely, that is what happens when i get glass, nice glass. so i don't. or didn't. but now, i've decided to migrate back to the breakable dishes, these japanese pottery pieces i have been wanting to employ when the children fledged. and now they have.
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so i stacked up all the unbreakable, not lovely dishes, having already stashed my grandmother's stonewear in the garage for safekeeping until my daughter is old enough to take it (mind you, the woman did not gift me china, china would never survive my rough handling, neither did she gift me crystal, but stonewear in a pattern of my choosing, pfaltzgraff olivia. quite lovely).
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the box of breakables and some undesirable bowls picked up on whim, sit in a box waiting for destination unknown. at this moment, i have no idea what to do with them. but likely they will end up at a thrift store and be purchased by some other mother with children under foot.
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my new dishes are porcelain made in china or pottery made in japan. collected here and there over the years, i've been stashing it away in places where i could glimpse its beauty, but it would not get broken. until this weekend. i washed it all and replaced all the old stuff with these gorgeous pieces of art.
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i think that is what it is for me, i want to enjoy this season of my life, so as i sat at dinner last night with my love, the fluorescents turned off and a row of candles illuminated the room and cast a gentle glow on our faces. it is time, to slow down, to enjoy all of the things we have worked hard for, and to trust that times will only get better.

deadheading

the sluggish start to the morning gave way to a chai laced cup of cafe bustelo. something spicey to get going.

and so i picked up a porcelain dish and walked out to my garden. the marigolds, all from last year's seeds, have faithfully provided fodder for the coming year.

deadheading is one of the most enjoyable parts of gardening, it is reaping abundance. harvesting future marigolds. and so i carried this dish around to the trellis where my morning glories have all faded at the same time. from a riot of blooms to a collusion of seed pods, many ready to be harvested.  life, it seems, has left these vines this season, but they were all the fruit of last season's vines. and so, i have them now, gathered up, porcelain dish held at the base of the pods whose seeds burst forth at the slightest pressure. each flower offering up four seeds.

the chives went to seed and so i've gathered them as well. the poppy seed pods. the assorted wildflowers whose seeds i have never collected before and whose names i do not know, the little blue job and the delicate diminutive daisy. the seeds are almost imperceptible the tiniest grains of pepper they appear to be. but i have gathered them and laid them all out to dry.

the oriental lilies are astounding. they got a late start, as i was reluctant to plant them too early, but they are exploding in a riot of color now. the roses too. wasn't sure those would make it, but their salmon pink flower petals are everywhere to be seen. brightening up the patio.

chilé verde

suzanne rae deshchidn reading her poem chilé verde at the allen ginsberg poetry awards 2014, passaic county community college.

a thousand lifetimes

how much times has passed.

how long have i been gone.

who really knows, frankly, who really cares.

i have been busy with life, and that, is a blessing. i look around and am grateful that i am caught up in the mundane. not doing too shabbily, just being. which is really all i've ever wanted. focused more on my daughter than anything at this point, and that is as it should be. still writing. still writing poems. after my last master's program, i needed a mental hiatus, and i just had to sit and stare at the walls for a while. (meaning: i taught twenty in-class hours last semester and i'm fried).

but now, the load is lightening (to a manageable fourteen hours in-class), and i'm finding my passion again. writing poems, even ordered some books on tape from the library. still no time for pulp and ink books at present, but that will come, soon enough. i've been plucking old standards off my shelf--those stored up for such a time as this--the unfettered mind, among them. mostly, i'm just reading student work, and i'm getting ready for what's coming.

see facebook.com/srdediting for my online editing resume

be present

it has been a long time since i've had a yoga practice, though i desire one. i know what to do, i have props and mats at home, i just simply do not make the time to practice yoga daily and that bums me out.

today, as we wound down class, i thought, my god, i have been in my body this entire time. and it was a moment of triumph. only briefly did the idea of writing about it pass through my mind, and as the thoughts came and drifted away in shavasana did anything other than the moment enter my mind. and for that, i am grateful.

having just completed another master's degree, i paused briefly, one or two days, before i remembered all the other goals laid aside until that master's was done. it's done. time to move forward.

my plan at the moment is to apply for the psy.d program at rutgers. in preparation for that, i am taking a gre prep course and some undergrad psych courses to address any gaps before applying. i will know by april, and begin in september. this idea thrills me to no end.

while i will have to leave the jobs i have come to love, i will be moving forward in my life and that is all any of us can hope for. i would like to be self-sufficient and in a stable career, not one beholden to the whims of registrants. although i know private practice will have its ups and downs, there are so many other things i want to do, need to do with my life. this feels like the beginning of something wonderful.

and so, i bowed low to my heart at the end of class, from the hips, nearly touching my head to the floor in honor of that which has so strongly supported me. i am grateful, for all the triumphs of late, i am grateful. for all the challenges too, for they are what keeps me on my toes.

my finch has taken to wrestling with a picked clean mullet stem, and is rather delightful to watch.

find the thing that brings you joy, that is all i can say, and do it. just do it.

unforeseen tears

on my porch, this bright sunny spring morning, an atv chatters loudly through the forest across the street, spitting its gasoline powered bark (or fire, it sounds more like the rapid repeat of machine gun fire), across to envelop my whole porch and i try to remember the lessons of yoga.

embrace the silence,

she said, and the footsteps trotted across the floor above us and we lay in a meditative state. when we rose, cross-legged and touched palms at heart center, a tear escaped from my closed eye and streamed down my face. it was the beginning of something beautiful.

set your intent,

she said, which is exactly how i start my semester with my writing students.

i just want to be present to this process.

i thought. she started meditatively, which was something i appreciated, as i often find myself trying to catch up to my body in yoga. muscle memory pretty much shifts me into position and i land in the posture, but where is my mind, and my breathing never quite seems to be right.

the one time i blew out my shoulder, all i could think about was breakfast and what i'd order when class was over. i was completely fixated on the meal to come, not the moment i was in. shoulder paid.

i couldn't attend yoga for about six weeks, just to allow my shoulder to recover, and i had to get some work done, but ultimately i learned, i have to be mindful in yoga, i can't just shift positions and multitask.

i am a legendary multitasker. i am of the opinion, as don aslett has written,

the more you do, the more you can do.

and more i do.

mercifully the mechanics yard across the street just turned off the semi engine they are trying to fix, and i hear krishna das' hanuman chalisa sounding from my kitchen. my cup of tea steams in the sun, and a car darts by on the road.

there is one thing i have learned in yoga, a teacher from whom you can learn (and for me that involves submission and unity), is priceless. i miss my sophie.

so we crouch down between our knees, with our hands at heart's center, at the end of class, and i realize, i had been present and only in that room the entire time. my mind was on my body and the posture the tilt of the pelvis, the angle of the hips, heart opened to the sky.

how long has it been since i've had a class like that.

too long.

too long, indeed.

so i will begin a journey, which has the serendipitous feeling of having been planned for me all along, and i will try to do my yoga teacher training. we shall see what will come of this.

what to say

when there is nothing to say, and silence pervades the house. an uneasy silence, like the chill of winter, that saps strength and energy. i would rather not have that be my truth, but sometimes it is. sadly, sometimes it is.

and still. and silent. there is nothing to say.

semesters with einstein

alternate title: piscean genius

another successful semester completed, one more to go. in this final semester, i will write my thesis, which is the book i attempted two summers ago. i did not have what i needed then to articulate my point. i have infinitely more than i imagined now.

in this, my month long hiatus between semesters, i am not actively thinking about my thesis, but i always feel it bubbling up in my subconscious. this is, in practice, my theory.

i have watched my students take my contemplative writing advice, and those who do, tend to move forward with essays and writing challenges with greater ease than their counterparts who don't follow my instruction. i am grateful for both, as it gives me real world understanding of the way students respond to suggestion.

i am not entirely sure if my instructor had instructed me on the function of the subconscious brain, and told me what to do that i would have listened. in fact, because of my nature, i'm sure i would not. i had to stumble (as it were) upon my own theory to maximize my brain power.

we are only given the equipment we've got, so how to best utilize it becomes the question. my answer was found in contemplative writing. i am sure, based on my advising professor's enthusiasm for my original ideas, that if i can nail it in my thesis, that this book will be publishable--which was my goal going into the program.

i have much work to do next semester, concurrent with the writing, i will be finalizing some of my theories and ideas, enfleshing them in words for the first time. these prospects excite me.

but for now, my mind can rest and remember my semester companion who waits for me to take up pen and concretize the abstract as he did so well.

write me well

it's that time again, when i retreat to the forests of morris county and write with twenty nine other poets for an entire weekend. these six month intervals are one way to mete out time. so much changes, but having touchstones along the way is a blessing.

i often go there and lose myself in being there. i arrive exhausted and sleep a lot. though, i am managing that exhaustion better now, and the constraints on my energy are much reduced since taking up teaching.

i would like to go there and just be there, but i have a paper to write, which includes reading a book and three journal articles. perhaps this is what i need, some time away to write and think outside my daily domain.

i have seen glimpses of poems cutting through the sky like jetliners intent on arriving somewhere unreachable to me, at that moment.

i have felt the familiar brush of words so close that i could feel their warm breath, but they eluded me.

but not for long.

i have been backloading for quite some time. have written one poem since mid-april when i started my second master's program, and the mental chaos that goes with dividing your time thus. my mind feels a lot like pinterest at the moment, a whole lot of potential, but no organization so to speak. unless you are willing to rifle through endless streams of information, without any guarantee of finding what you might be looking for, then you ought not to bide your time trying to get any meaning in any timely fashion.

last night i sat in the audience, front row while my daughter performed with her chorus. i could see her eyes drop down to see if i was looking at her, and she would sing all the more pronounced when i would be there watching her. i'm no fan of school performances, but this one was truly delightful.

i sat there, smiling at all the kids. enjoying the roundness, squareness, pointy chinnedness of their faces, their hair cuts, their manner with song, and just enjoyed the whole ordeal.

but of course, as soon as i could, i lit on outta there, and went to sleep. days start early here, and i was tired. not as tired as the man who snored between songs (and the choir mistress was halted in midair, like coughing in some golfer's backswing), but had to press on, face forcing a smile. i was that close, i could see it all.

and it was divine.

thyme flies

just yesterday it was a year ago and now two have passed. where has the time gone.

i am certain i do not know, but trust everything, every last little thing happens for a reason.

some things, it seems, just take longer to understand.

play it cool man, real cool

i had not planned on this semester being a rocket ride into the future, but it has. i've been enjoying it, i'd rather be busy than not, but sometimes, i remember back to the days when i was tired and bored waiting for this semester to begin and think--enjoy wherever you're at in life because time comes when you're too busy or not busy at all. it's all a cycle. i try to be present when there is nothing pressing but sometimes i get a little impatient for the times of movement. now, momentum carries me and, as if in a rip tide, i have to remember to conserve my strength and not fight the current. it's all about flow.

kick your butt

did my first kickboxing class today, 75 minutes of what is akin to modern day torture. it was tough, i was exhausted, and all i could think about was milkshakes, onion rings, and a cobb salad. en route to the diner after, the milkshake gave way to a sensible cup of hot tea, but the onion rings were ordered as an appetizer, and while they taste good with zesty sauce, thousand island is really good on them too. and blue cheese. the table was covered with little dishes running over with different dressings and fatty foods. it was sheer heaven.

ah, the boxing, well, i didn't blow out my fists or my knees, so that is good. i went for the two pound weights, since i knew i'd be gasping, especially since there is a jogging component to this class, as if plank push ups and X pushups weren't torture enough. at a certain point, i just put my head on the mat and laughed. it was too much. i didn't want to blow out my shoulder either.

i will definitely go back, i figure, it can't hurt to practice punching and kicking, although my punches toward the end were more like a kitten batting a cloud, but hey, i didn't keel over and i made it the whole way. holding boat pose, or a big V with your torso slightly reclined and your legs up in the air for a whole minute is just cruel. i dropped out after about twenty seconds i'm sure. it was brutal. but definitely fun.

and the feast afterward, mmmmmmmm.

burning ayes

i made it through the week, at least i have that in my favor. i did not honor my silent time and that was not good. i'm due to take my cold meds now, but have to drive, so i must delay it for a while. it would be nice to be allowed to rest. but i guess, i have to first, allow myself to rest. if i don't do that, it will never get done.

maybe tomorrow. will try again.

exercises in silence

it started back in 2003, i'm not exactly sure when, but i had read the artist's way, and i was reading a lot of merton then. i did my deprivation, per julia cameron, but it wasn't enough, not reading, so i took it a step further. i stopped talking, i stopped listening to music, watching tv, all of it. a total technology and sound blackout.

i remember that first night like it just happened yesterday. sitting awake all night in a glider, rocking back and forth while my mind was lit up and buzzing like times square. that was probably the longest night of my life. i wasn't prepared for detoxing from technology.

when that week ended, i spoke with another artist, a poet whom i knew from the dallas poetry circuit and told him,

i couldn't believe the fear. it was unprecedented.

he had recently completed the way with a group and he said he went directly to the movie theatre after the group meeting and the deprivation ended. it's hard, being deprived of comfort thus.

though now, i employ eis to another end.

the impending stuff that is filling up my calendar, mind you all of it worthwhile, and stuff i want to be doing. nothing i would not willingly do, am not willingly doing. but it's a lot. a psychic drain, if you will.

so i am allowing my life to fall into a cadence, and i realized, if i don't protect my headspace, who will. i need to carve out some space for me to ground. i know what to do, i know how to do it. it is just making it and myself a priority enough to honor the need in me for some quiet time.

mind you, i am very zen in that i believe anything can serve as meditation. so, i left yoga last week knowing i would do an eis from 9-12 today, and if i cleaned the house, so be it. if i sat there and stared at a wall, fine. whatever i needed to do, i would do.

i got up earlier than i wanted to, started the laundry, and made breakfast for my baby.

when nine am rolled around, i shut off everything. at one point i even shut off the fan since it was making a whirring sound. i did everything on my list, and then some.

in silence.

it wasn't that i was doing that much different. it was just a clear space for me to hear myself think. or not to think, as the case may be.

i thought a lot. but i don't stop myself, i try to focus on the positive, but i let the negative come and go, like the waves on the shore, and when they roll out, i marvel at all that has been uncovered. there is so much, so very much in the recesses of the mind, and when given time and space to be, nothing but good can happen.

and so, nearing the end of my three hours, my cat met me on the porch. i served him a meal. i had a meal and mindfully ate. rejoicing in every bite, the hot enchiladas and the cold pico de gallo. it was all so good.

and at three pm, as i reached for the familiar remote, to block out the silence, i set it back down. content.

ah yes

i remember now. and begin to understand why artists let their art go in favor of teaching. though my hope is that i can maintain both. at the moment i am more scholar than poet, but i hope that will right itself anon. teaching is it's own peculiar joy, and i am most joyous at the moments when i can see the clap of enlightenment. hear the true utterance.

i make myself too available, perhaps, but i cannot teach in any other way. i don't know how. but i am finding that my style is evolving, solidifying in the classroom. that i am finding my footing. my aim is clear, and i trust it will be well.

and so it shall.

my toes ache

went to a hatha yoga class, impromptu on sunday. the instructor had a sub and we got a woman who was very, immensely comfortable in her role. we moved through the hour and a half class with minimal moaning and groaning, as the class seemed to really flow. when instructors move you through class to a certain rhythm, somehow, it makes things easier. at least it does for me.

when we left class, after ten zillion down dogs and cobras, my friend commented on her derrier aching, and as i stepped up to the indian buffet door (yum!), i could feel my arse start to chime in. but we felt strong and hungry. so we proceeded.

when i woke up monday morning, everything down to my toes ached. i lumbered around like a geriatric gone to alaska, and t'wern't pretty. i muddled through some yoga to help stretch out the aching bits, but the bits continued to ache. every bit of me. even as i prepared to sleep monday night, i still felt sore.

the thing about it is, i didn't even feel like i had pushed beyond my limits on sunday. i just moved with the instructor, felt strong in my body and confident in the poses. i even did some standing balance moves where the leg is outstretched and the arm has the big toe in a yoga lock. it felt good, i felt strong. but boy, did i pay.

while my arse no longer aches, i know i need to get back into a regular yoga routine. as i lay on the mat, not my own, mind you, that's how impromptu this venture was, i remembered a vision i had which wants to become a poem. that vision is fresh in my mind even now but the poem has not yet come. i trust it will. perhaps in december after the rush and hurry of this fall semester is grinding to a halt, and my master's semester is well underway, perhaps then, this poem will emerge, fully formed like venus herself.

that is my hope.

what the

things are shifting around. that's not entirely a bad thing. provided i'm willing to let go of what i hope, expect, desire to happen.

i'm gearing up for a busy fall to come and realizing i don't really enjoy down time. or perhaps, i'm just not used to it any more.

the first draft of my paper was a great success, but i've got a long way to go. my coming courses will deepen my research but i have to be sure it is in the right areas. it's hard to chart a course when there is no land on the horizon. one must simply trust the inner compass.

and so i shall.

my baby and me

she's finally coming home. i'm glad she gets out and about in the world, that she's unafraid. that she's the kind of kid that will just explore. but i'm always glad when she comes home.

there's something about those first few minutes when you glimpse your loved one freshly emerged from the plane. that swell of relief when you hold them again for the first time. the gratitude as you take their bag and lead them to your car. these are the simple things. the things for which i am most grateful.

i finally attended yoga in my area. i do not think i met my sophie, the regular teacher was not there. but i didn't know my sophie was my sophie until some time had passed. so i will give it time and keep going back, as often as i am able.

my body took to the poses easily, it was familiar and welcome. when i came home after it felt like my thighs would pop out of the hip sockets. i had forgotten what it felt like to be stretched out.

side plank, which had been a particular pain in my ass before i'd left for this respite, was solid today, my body felt strong in the familiar pose. but, i knew i hadn't been and it would take some time to get the ease back. just to finally be required to stand up straight again, to point my chest to the heavens, and lay my head back in silent meditation was wonderful.

i had hoped the meditation would be a lengthy sit, but it was not. i have at least come to the place where i desire that to be a part of my life again. so i will try. i'm not sure how it will look, or work out, but i will try to find a place for it.

and for now, i wait. and trust. that my baby will make it home to me safely.