This Moment: January 16, 2011 8:14 A.M.
The trees to the west are muted tangles of raw umber with traces of burnt sienna. A lone crow is voicing its dissatisfaction with the morning in attenuated bursts: six complaints, silence, repeat. A thin crust of white covers the front lawn save for lopsided rings of green under the pine trees. In this light the cedar fence is the color of dried blood and begs the question, how is it the body turns traitor and plots to kill its king? Both dogs are padding circles across the hardwood. The old dog finally settles hard on the rug, her hip bumping against the front door. The young dog jumps on my bed and is on point hunting the cars that pass in front of his domain. The sky is a mixture of milk and ash. Storms are coming. Would that they would come and send the darkness scurrying to its corner.
The Coffee Project - January 6 - 13, 2011
January 13, 2011. Marie Callendar's after the last meeting.
January 12, 2011. Mugging for the camera.
Grouch impersonation.
January 10, 2011. Back to the Pacific - Hawaii stories, 1946.
January 9, 2011. hot flash in progress.
January 6, 2011.
Crow Life
animal spiritsThe Crow
Crow is always on the alert for trouble—and their loud caws! warn each other of impending danger, Very little escapes Crow’s keen vision—which is why many cultures associate Crow with the keeper of knowledge. Crow has flapped his way into your life today to bring a message of watchfulness—have you built your nest high enough to really understand what’s going on around you?
If I could be anything in another lifetime, I would choose to be a crow. Crow life would be fascinating. I've written my version of life as a crow, My Life As A Crow, inspired by Margaret Atwood's My Life As A Bat.
What I Made Today: Voodoo Collage
Every new year I spend a few hours ripping images from magazines and pasting them on paper to create a voodoo collage as a kind of visual intuitive guide for the year. It usually takes me the year to understand what the images mean.
This collage is too big to scan in full, so I've posted it in sections. The majority are images I've photo shopped.
collage #1.
collage #2.
collage #3.
collage #4. So far, this is my favorite collage.
collage #5
How Not to Lose Your Religion or How to Keep Your Temper
And I mean that in the southern sense of losing your temper and saying exactly what is on your mind, consequences and mortgage payment be damned.
Directions:
1. Think about what you're avoiding and write it down as simply as possible.
2. Grab a nearby book, (in my case I used Silverthorn and Perry's Word Division Manual.
3. Pair random words for as long as it takes the moment to pass.
Here's mine. Some are pretty funny,
I quit:
band jargon, prolasped forty, confessional death, money sheds,book bombs, rare harships, pictured assurances, merit marsh, dog moral, buddy spice, rushed stockman, impetuous spoons, secret hardwood, preslung couriers, bona-fide gate, scream lords,
pearl ballot, grind putty, wrinkle erosion, devilish locals, pulp deficit, fudge recall, sizzling prayer, swallow error, inexcusable ribbons, bitter optometry, modest sadness, key sucker, poppy counts, unheard sermons, fifth buffalo, sacrum jail, ferric stupor, profane lettuce, rheumatic segregation, table chaos, pet grocery, nasty pudding, radioactive librarians, meticulous stains, complex darkness, telepathy thirty-two, democratic chic, railroad purgatory, pushing coupons, salt conviction, mercurial chivalry, guitar tracks, emulsified whew, marriage spikes, lubricating sou, disgraceful stove, rural seep, relish left, swearing freeze, drag cartoons, proud geyser, attic gasoline.
Directions:
1. Think about what you're avoiding and write it down as simply as possible.
2. Grab a nearby book, (in my case I used Silverthorn and Perry's Word Division Manual.
3. Pair random words for as long as it takes the moment to pass.
Here's mine. Some are pretty funny,
I quit:
band jargon, prolasped forty, confessional death, money sheds,book bombs, rare harships, pictured assurances, merit marsh, dog moral, buddy spice, rushed stockman, impetuous spoons, secret hardwood, preslung couriers, bona-fide gate, scream lords,
pearl ballot, grind putty, wrinkle erosion, devilish locals, pulp deficit, fudge recall, sizzling prayer, swallow error, inexcusable ribbons, bitter optometry, modest sadness, key sucker, poppy counts, unheard sermons, fifth buffalo, sacrum jail, ferric stupor, profane lettuce, rheumatic segregation, table chaos, pet grocery, nasty pudding, radioactive librarians, meticulous stains, complex darkness, telepathy thirty-two, democratic chic, railroad purgatory, pushing coupons, salt conviction, mercurial chivalry, guitar tracks, emulsified whew, marriage spikes, lubricating sou, disgraceful stove, rural seep, relish left, swearing freeze, drag cartoons, proud geyser, attic gasoline.
Poem Therapy: at 2:30 P.M. January 6, 2011 - Enough by Jeffrey Harrison
Enough
Jeffrey Harrison
It's a gift, this cloudless November morning
warm enough for you to walk without a jacket
along your favorite path. The rhythmic shushing
of your feet through fallen leaves should be
enough to quiet the mind, so it surprises you
when you catch yourself telling off your boss
for a decade of accumulated injustices,
all the things you've never said circling inside you.
It's the rising wind that pulls you out of it,
and you look up to see a cloud of leaves
swirling in sunlight, flickering against the blue
and rising above the treetops, as if the whole day
were sighing, Let it go, let it go,
for this moment at least, let it all go.
I believe today is more psychic poetry than poem therapy. This poem captures the moment exact, so much so, I am inspired to write a few lines of my own.
Stalemate
Danna
Winter sun glints off crusted snow,
the air is sharp and threatening
as an unsheathed knife,
let this go.
A steady hiss emerges as the day decompresses,
let it go. The sky presents
its frigid blue shoulder,
let it go. An unforgiving wind
soon follows,
let it go.
The words, all the words unsaid,
harbor like fish under ice,
slowly rising to the surface,
for now, let them sink
and swirl away into the dark current,
let them go.
Jeffrey Harrison
It's a gift, this cloudless November morning
warm enough for you to walk without a jacket
along your favorite path. The rhythmic shushing
of your feet through fallen leaves should be
enough to quiet the mind, so it surprises you
when you catch yourself telling off your boss
for a decade of accumulated injustices,
all the things you've never said circling inside you.
It's the rising wind that pulls you out of it,
and you look up to see a cloud of leaves
swirling in sunlight, flickering against the blue
and rising above the treetops, as if the whole day
were sighing, Let it go, let it go,
for this moment at least, let it all go.
I believe today is more psychic poetry than poem therapy. This poem captures the moment exact, so much so, I am inspired to write a few lines of my own.
Stalemate
Danna
Winter sun glints off crusted snow,
the air is sharp and threatening
as an unsheathed knife,
let this go.
A steady hiss emerges as the day decompresses,
let it go. The sky presents
its frigid blue shoulder,
let it go. An unforgiving wind
soon follows,
let it go.
The words, all the words unsaid,
harbor like fish under ice,
slowly rising to the surface,
for now, let them sink
and swirl away into the dark current,
let them go.
A Year Asking Questions
Mockingbird
Mockingbirds are master imitators, and can mimic the calls of many other birds. They’re also fearless protectors of their nest, and will attack any bird (no matter how large) to protect their young. Mockingbird’s lesson for you today is twofold: to listen to how you might be mimicking others—instead of listening to your own true voice; and to examine the value of what you defend. Hmmm?
There are years that ask questions and years that answer them. This is one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite authors, Zora Neale Hurston. I've really felt 2001 to 2010 have been years of asking hard questions, and was looking forward to 2011 as a year of answers. Nope. A bit naive to think that a new year would usher such a monumental sea change so quickly. Oh, and really, what do I really have to complain about.
2011 has been ratcheting up thus far. As always when traditional sources fail to offer insight into a situation, I turn to the esoteric. Today, it's a quick look into animal totems, which seems to be a developing theme for the new year.
According to the mockingbird, I am to consider that I am not listening to my own voice, and that I should examine the value of what I defend. My immediate reaction is to agree that I should investigate both. Although I am mixing my metaphors, what I know is that I am coiling and uncoiling with restlessness and the impulse to drop the skin of my old life and I'm feeling impulsive enough I may just do it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)