The following is my entry to Project Write World for October but I had some typo-s and corrections I wanted to make and I cannot edit the item until the judging is over.

I thought this quote fit well with our topics discussed on the Journey.


Everyone has a talent. What is rare is the courage to follow the talent to the dark place where it leads.
- Erica Jong (Writer)

Dark places in the mind

Your words fit like bricks on a cobblestone path
but are you prepared to follow it
to the dark places in your mind?
Beware, there are demons in the hedges
and hedges casting shadows at your feet.
There are thorns behind the roses.
The words of critics bite like sharpened teeth.

But let the shadows fall from the hedges,
forming boundaries to guide you
through tunnels of fear and pride.
The thorns may cut, but have they lied?
And if creation is light, the journey through darkness
is a necessary flight, a pain required.

Without the winter wind, can you truly know
the warmth of sunshine on your skin?
Without our shadow cast, isn’t the sun
just a dying star on fire. Without peril,
peace is merely a quiet place to rest your head.
Tell me, without success, can you feel the dread?
Can you be rescued without losing your way?

So I ask you, who can write of joy
without the memory of pain?
Could it those who fear to walk
on the cobblestone path that issued
from their own lips; those who mistake
the hedges for prisons and the darkness
for the void? They have walled their spirit
in a vacuum from which no soul can thrive.
But as for me, I will not fear
the darkness in my life.


SWPoet













 

Someone did a wonderful review on a poem in my port called "When I Seek." What made it wonderful is that the reviewer delved into the philosophical interpretation he got from the poem and told me which of the two versions spoke to him the most. Then he had such a profoundly different yet also eye opening interpretation and I was able to reread it through his point of view. This was the email I just sent him. (For those who want to take a different approach to a "review" and, rather than discuss spelling and rhyme and word choice, really surprise the writer and dig deep-give them your emotional reaction, philosophical reaction, etc. It will make someone's day. It surely made mine.)

My email to this reviewer:

Wow, I just saw a glimpse of a totally different perspective than I intended, which is fascinating. I was communing with the tree, not thinking of how the tree felt. However, the following statement of yours really did hit the nail on the head:

"It is this leap of faith not taken however that permits us to entertain, in our various ways, what it might be like if trees could communicate, could commune ... could converge. The absolute truth is, I believe ... is that they do!"


I, too, believe that they do communicate but not in an "in your face" or loud kind of way. We really have to look, to listen, to breathe them in, to actually notice them in our day to day travel from home to work, etc. But I don't think its so much the tree "talking" as it is the part our our souls that still has a tendril connected to the earth. If we really listen, we might just hear THAT part whisper "we are one with each other." I think this sense surpasses the boundaries of nationality, religion, region, culture. Whether its trees, mountains, clouds, desert, the wonder of our connection with the Earth is something we shouldn't dismiss as "hearing voices or talking to inanimate objects." Thank you for reminding me of this and thank you for such an indepth and thoughtful review.



Brandy


 

"Five minute drill" writing on this quote from Maya Angelou: "Some critics will write 'Maya Angelou is a natural writer' - which is right after being a natural heart surgeon." Write this poem in free verse.

Forged through a fire of experience,
the writer's curves come not
from adolescence and childbirth,
but through disappointments, rejections,
followed only by the giddiness of being
entranced by the pen, caressed
by the written word, wooed
by the smile of a lover, a reader
who understands what moves her. .

But the pen in a writer's life
can also be like a lover's tongue,
sharp as a scalpel, to carve, dissect,
to heal. The writer, a surgeon
with steady hands, melds
passion with practice,
weighing love of the craft
against love of man,
with the end result, a patient,
a reader, a healing, a spark.

Forged through a fire of experience,
the strength of the blade comes not
from the natural ability of the maker,
or the innate strength of ore,
but from the act and skill of folding
metal upon metal, heating and cooling,
heating and cooling, layer upon layer.
Only then will it be ready to stretch,
shape, polish, adorn, and put into use.
Only then will it endure blade upon blade.

Writing, like swords and scalpels,
is not for the faint of heart.


(The first stanza is all I had after five minutes. I couldn't help but add to it for another 20 minutes. Sorry folks.)

************
About the process-I found myself erasing as I wrote until four minutes past the start time. Then the first stanza came. I thought of how to write this so its not so pedantic but still shows the point Angelou was making.
The quote is an awkward one and doesn't roll off the tongue. However, I thought it was an excellent point she made.

I heard her autobiography on tape recently and she is very much a dry wit. However, if you think of the comment as sarcasm, it would be like saying an athlete is a winner because she has "natural ability", while totally ignoring the hours and hours every day of conditioning, persistence, the giving up of Krispy Kreme Donuts for the end result of a quicker sprint.

The example of a natural heart surgeon puts it that much further to the extreme. Most of us can start training for a marathon and work at it until we build up stamina. But, a heart surgeon blends intellectual ability AND persistence with physical precision and stamina not to mention years and years of schooling, mentoring, doing, teaching, honing the craft, learning new things. It is the ultimate of skill and knowledge.

Why should writers be different from surgeons? Look at us here on the Journey. Are we not learning, teaching each other, practicing, honing our craft, etc. How many years do most writers write? From the time the passion hits them until ......they are six feet under, perhaps?
The "natural ability" may cause a person to be interested in writing or lack thereof could make them resistant to a writing vocation or passion. Beyond that, it is an insult in my mind to say a writer "Only" got where they are from God given talent and nothing else. Look at the high level of geniuses who are considered underachievers.

This got me thinking about the theory of Nature vs. Nurture. I've often wondered why it should be one or the other and not both. One can overcome lack of talent but it is more difficult to overcome lack of interest or persistence.

What do you think?

Brandy
10-6-09

















*****
On a following day, do a "Five minute drill" writing on the same topic but do the poem in rhyme

"Five Minute Drill" is a derivation of the "Two Minute Drill" - write a poem in the span of five minutes - leave unaltered for now.

Post both poems and your comments about the process and the experience in the forum.

A natural, you call me

Perhaps, I should be honored
you see me so complete.
A natural, you call me,
a finished masterpiece.

My words you find poetic.
My insights you find deep.
But pain remains invisible,
a secret I must keep.

A natural, you call me?
Did you know I once was mute?
Such fear of strength behind my words
no one could dare refute.

But I marched on despite myself,
found solace in the pen
and learned by tears and anger
what lived beneath my skin.

And it was hard, this journey.
Each word took all my might.
For nature only goes so far
then stops before the fight.

A natural, you call me?
Perhaps, but still I write.



 

How often do we speak of something and then see it in different places for days afterward. It makes me wonder if the muse is tickling my ear to hear and recognize or if the universe is trying to ensure I get the point. Watching Alegria again (Cirque du Soleil type movie), I heard near the end a comment. It went like this. "Who would have known that a simple love story would have changed so many lives." Then he said something about living life to its fullest because you never know whose life (or how many) you might unknowingly change. After a forum discussion last night and then this past weekend at the Women's Spirit Rising conference, this message has returned to find me over and over.

Sometimes, I'd like to think no one is watching. I'm not "on" 24/7 and I'm not the most consistent in my effort level-sometimes really productive, sometimes I daydream and get sidetracked (usually on wdc), and I enjoy the idea of some relative anonymity. But who is watching? Perhaps the muse, perhaps my subconscious, my kids, my clients, my coworkers. Not to be a conspiracy theorist, as I surely am not, but maybe this isn't such a bad thing. When we see what others "want us to see", when they are "on" or performing (as sometimes my clients do when they want to put on a good face), I don't see the real person, the real situation. When others see me, perhaps at an interview, or in court, they don't know who I am really. Even at work, they don't know. But on this site or when they read my poetry, I hope they see me with my hair down, my blue jeans on, walking barefoot by the lake, rolling on the grass with my kids and dog, being silly, losing my keys or glasses, or just being goofy ole me.

Then I have to ask, who is it that want to see me this way? Perhaps the other imperfect souls who embrace their imperfections and learn to laugh about them. Or, perhaps the ones who would like to break from their fear of imperfection but are afraid until they read that others can and do have imperfections too and its OKAY. Perhaps, yes, perhaps anyone who recognizes me in my poetry, who sees through the rhyme or lack thereof, is welcome to see me when I'm unaware. I welcome them to partake of what they read and carry with them anything that touches them, leaving the rest for others to find. That is okay with me. I am just honored they took time to look, to seek for a message past the form.





 

This entry begins a new Journey class, one which I will be assisting Karen but also going
through the class again in a sense. This particular class is as much the chemistry of the
participants as the "lessons" taught. I look forward to this new and exciting journey.

Already today, the question of success/failure has come up in one of the forums and it really
got me thinking of how we view success and failure and how one can look better on the surface
but the other actually has more long term advantages. I'm not that great on knowing scripture but
the line in the Bible about "he who is first, shall later be last" (okay, perhaps that was Bob Dylan
in "the times, they are a changing" but it did originate from the Bible. Anyway, the irony is that those
geeks in high school could later be the owner of the company that hires the prom king who is way
past his zenith and perhaps never able to regain that popularity. We never know if the person we choose
to help or harm now will later become the president or the boy in the belltower with a gun. We don't know
if the girl who had everything will show up at the 20 yr HS reunion twice divorced, a cancer survivor,
or an alcoholic. We think we were awkward nerds or freaks in HS only to show up to our own reunion
and learn that everyone felt that way, even if they were seen as popular. Maybe they knew a secret about
themselves they tried so hard to cover up that they lived a lie but in so doing, they were popular for their
efforts to cover things up. In the end, we really don't know as much about others as we think. We
tend to think worse about ourselves and better about others, we envy the things others have and fail
to appreciate what we have, and then find later that the other side of the fence wasn't as pleasant as we
once thought, or that we were liked more than we thought. So, isn't failure just a transient state that we
all go through on our way toward our destinations. Successes too are transient, sometimes
much more than failures. Each day is a chance to try something that could fail, or could succeed,
but either way, we still have to wake up the next day and do it all over again.

A toast to second chances, and thirds........
Perhaps the tally at the pearly gates will represent lessons learned, times one persevered in spite of
their failures, and the number of successes acheived on the backs of other successes (instead of
resting on one's laurels). Maybe there will be no score cards at all, just a pat on the back and the words,
"ya done good, kid." After all, isn't that what we needed to hear from our parents when we were kids?

9-21-09




 

Muses are like cats. If you open the door they will sneak through your ankles and run into the house. However, if you leave them outside or ignore them,
they will become noisy pests until you pay them attention.



I arrived at work today amazed that my muse has finally kicked in again. Between staying up
too late here and there, prepping for two cub scout functions for my 7 yo and a birthday party
for my now 4 yo, I have let myself get into a strange sleep pattern. What I have learned is that,
as much as I think I need time to write when the kiddos and husband go to bed, letting myself
stay up way too late several nights in a row is a sure way to BURY the MUSE. If our minds
aren't working on all cylinders and it takes all our emotional energy to just function during the day,
where's the energy for writing. Its like being in icy water-all your blood is used up keeping your
brain and vital organs alive and there's none to spare for the fingers (aka your typing fingers).
You can guess what happens next. Extreme as the example is, you get the point. Right?

Another strange thing I've noticed about the ole muse is this. When you have all the time
in the world, the muse takes a vacation. When you have two days to finish a load of work
before a week long vacation, the muse starts begging for attention and practically forces my
fingers to type and my brain to think poetry when it should be thinking family assessments,
paperwork, family plans, etc. (I'm a social worker so there's always paperwork with the state).

So here's my question. If you feed the muse, does she chill out and let you get your day job done?
If you don't feed her, are you fighting the temptation to write ALL DAY LONG?
If you write what you need to and then try to finish your "day job" work, do you feel guilty for
spending time on the writing or is it worth the rush and hurry to get your other work done
after you've poured out your soul on paper?

We all have to answer this for ourselves.

Here's one solution but not the only one, obviously. If the muse is the spirit or wind of God or
imagination and we put fingers to keyboard and hop on the jet stream, we are more likely to
write better and be conduits for thoughts we didn't even know we had. There are messages
in that writing that are meant for someone, perhaps even you. Closing yourself off to this is
denying yourself and others the wisdom that flows through you.

BUT, losing your job adds stress that shuts down the muse. Tricky, right? So here's a thought.
Your journal doesn't have to be on the computer at first. It can be a little notepad like police
investigators use, something small enough for a back pocket or a purse-heck, a full sized notepad
will fit in most women's purses.

Take that little pad and a pen with you to the restroom, your car during break, or just take a
breather for a few minutes (not while on assembly line or driving your car obviously, but if you
are able) and jot down some key words, a few sentences to jog your memory, or even a few
verses of a poem stuck in your head. Then, when the kiddos go to bed, write for a few minutes
in your journal on the computer and let your fingers carry the messages freely without your
brain critiquing your ideas.




One idea from a published author of four poetry books that I met recently was this:
Write for about five minutes on a broad topic that could be concrete or conceptual
such as her example:

1. Write about something you have lost. (This could be everything from your favorite
pen, book, pet, to "innocence" or "childhood" or even a relative or friend who has died.)

2. Then, when you have written this, pick out one tiny detail you mentioned that is
unique to your own knowledge. Perhaps its the smell of your mother's favorite candle,
the feel of wet rope on the tugboat your father used to take you on as a child, the crooked
smile on the stuffed bear you once dragged around as a child. Anything specific to
your knowledge. Make sure can use one of your five senses to experience this detail.

3. Then, write for about five minutes in poem form or prose, about this detail (not necessarily
to do with loss or even anything you just wrote above).



This might be a fun way to organize your journal or to spark your muse when you
have the time to write. It also lets your subconscious find a window to peak out
and catch some sunlight. Have fun with this.

Credits: Kathleen Thompson in her presentation of "Nine Bean Rows"
at the Anniston Library in Alabama. She is a poet and author of four poetry books.
Look her up. The has a very unique style that might appeal to you.
Three of her books/chapbooks have been published by Negative Capability
Press in Mobile, Alabama.

More later:
Gotta get back to work now.
Perhaps an example of the above technique will follow (when the kids go to bed).

B-








 

In my outer world, I am 37 with a 3 yo son and 7 yo son. I am married, have a masters degree in social work and have worked in a state agency doing ongoing and foster care casework (and have been for a little over 12 yrs). I am also a poet and avid learner of whatever strikes my interest at the time. I have a guitar, mandolin, psaltery, a couple of Bolivian flutes, and a clarinet and can play one or two of them somewhat. I can read music somewhat also, so I play around with one instrument till I learn a song then get into something else. So far, WDC has kept me captivated in writing for the past 15 mos in a row which is amazing for me. It used to be, since childhood, I’d write the occasional poem and it could be six months between them.



Mentally, I think my themes in life (on the positive side) are balance, nonjudgement, passing on knowledge or information (not gossip, mind you-just info), and seeing all sides of every story. On the not so positive, its slowing down and finishing each task, (ie the turtle costumicon as a reminder), and time management (I have absolutely the most distorted sense of time). This is still the outside though, and I don’t feel I am my habits but I do perform or have trouble performing with these traits.



Emotionally, I am very even keeled. I am more apt to tear up than get resentful, I get more frustrated than angry, I can cry at a commercial but I have never had “depression” as a problem. I let it out (mostly on my own) when I need to rather than saving it up. I forgive easily but feel guilt when I probably shouldn’t. I tend to allow myself forgiveness most often and try hard not to be too hard on myself for performance related issues (although the guilt is there if I am perceived to have done something to hurt someone’s feelings even when it was not intentional). I am often “Too honest” especially at work. I have a lousy poker face.



Politically, I am sort of in the middle. I’m not wild about the religious right or the extreme left-and I wish a candidate would be able to run on issues rather than party “lines” because I don’t think most Americans are extreme and yet we are asked to choose from such right or left sides that it really isn’t a government of “the people” as much as we say it is.



Inside, I am what is impossible to name. I’m comfortable with people but equally comfortable alone. I am passionate about teaching my boys that its okay to make a mess sometimes and its more important to have depth than a pretty appearance. It is an ongoing struggle as I’m married into a family that is somewhat the opposite, money related at least. I have no strong attachments to house and car, money, but I do appreciate what has been provided for me and my sons because it is important to my husband to provide these things (along with my salary). I am somewhat irreverent at times, at least on the inside. If the muse calls at work, it is pretty certain a poem will come out no matter what else I have to do (which isn’t really great at work but I do it just the same). Still, these are outside things too and its impossible to say what a person really is, or who they are.



As for writing, I haven’t been published in anything since college except for some vanity press anthology that I didn’t know that was what it was when I entered the contest. Lessons learned, right? I do have some poems out there for a couple of contests not to “get published” for publishing sake but more to get a book of poetry done that I can get out there to women’s shelters or other social work type places. Also, I have 17 yrs left at my job to be able to retire with full insurance and benefits and I will be 55 at that time so I am “working on my second career” so that I can perhaps teach poetry writing or something like that in a second job. Right now, I’m just enjoying learning and practicing my writing and reading and learning from others in the community.

Most of all, I am looking forward to this experience and this class.



Here's' the poem.

ID: 1487383   (Rated: E) Title: Tributaries  Description: The path of women from Tributary to Ocean, from meek to wise. By: SWPoet

Brandy