Category: ART

Bone Deep

“The strange antlered language of phantoms” (quote from Mary Ruefle’s book of prose, “My Private Property”) and flickering shadows playing in the corners of your simple mind…the one that’s in tune with your body and what your body knows from centuries of carrying this knowledge in the DNA that flows from ancestors through their descendants. It’s the more powerful of our two minds, for it is pure instinct and sensual knowing before language steps in to confuse an eternal and universal consciousness.

Bibliophile

Books. They are as necessary as breathing to me. Actually, that’s a “slight“ exaggeration, but barely. At the beginning of the pandemic, when the libraries shut down, as the weeks dragged on and I watched my stack of library books dwindle, I tried to pace myself so I wouldn’t run out of them. It’s not that I couldn’t rustle through my own collection of books to find something to read if I really needed to, but I love libraries for the vast choices available — for free — and to suit every mood and interest. I have about twenty books out now, and should we end up with another shutdown, I am well prepared — with culinary histories, mysteries, poetry, and ecological essays and American Indian ethnobotany. Yep, something for every mood and whim.

The Poetry of a Single Day

What if we led poetic lives? To the best of each of our circumstances? If only it were that easy, but it’s not. So many choices we make with the hand we are dealt lead us down paths that make that poetic life a luxury rather than the core of our existence. And some of us are just dealt a lousy hand. I don’t regret many of my choices, only the ones that caused hurt to someone else. Besides, just for today I can choose the poetry. “Every day you play with the light of the universe.”
– Pablo Neruda

Ebb Tide

I have all kinds of ideas for posts running through my thoughts, but when it comes down to writing the words out, I sometimes draw a blank. Such is writer’s block, something I know well. One of the lessons I’ve learned as a writer is that, like everything else in our daily personal journeys, there is always an ebb and flow.
In the case of writer’s block (and just about everything else), once I surrender to that awareness, allow myself to experience whatever phase it is, and if the ebb tide, just stop to enjoy the pause, and if anything, move my hands and feet with stitch work, knitting, an Edward Gorey jigsaw puzzle, dancing, walking, etc. — before long I end up back in the flow I so desire to be in. I am finding this Wednesday to be a good day for that pause. Besides, pauses and the art of daydreaming are two skills it is always a good thing to practice.

White Mobs and Snow Blindness

It’s not that I wanted yesterday to happen, but sometimes people have to see something for themselves — you can’t tell them, regardless of what facts, science, etc. may support. But if they see it with their own eyes? Perhaps. Actions speak louder than words. For those who missed the obvious yesterday — there are still honorable journalists speaking and writing about it. White supremacy and cock-eyed “American” justice was there for all the world to see. Unless, of course, you continue to suffer from snow blindness. For those who don’t but perhaps do continue to believe in an America offering liberty and justice for all — there are a couple of excellent, easy, engaging and engrossing stories about the hidden (and not so very hidden) truths of the foundations of our beloved (still, perhaps?), yet flawed country. If you haven’t yet, please consider reading Lies My Teacher Told Me by James W. Loewen and
A People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn.

Hyper-connectivity

Hyper-connectivity is messing with my receptivity, which messes with my ability to truly connect, so for this first month of 2021, I am taking a sabbatical from posting on my Instagram page. That’s not really the hard part for me though. The hard part will be resisting that urge to constantly connect or engage in some way. I’ve still commented on a few posts but the goal for me is more meaningful connection, and if I have any presence there in January, it will be connecting with people through their stories or their private messages, rather than on a regular post. I feel lost in the crowd there, and crowds have always overwhelmed my senses to the point of distraction and sometimes distress.
I will not be totally gone from social media, but I do find that I need the more contemplative format that blogging allows for — after all, the blog, a web log, a “live” journal of our days — it is what social media once was without all the noise attached. I want to return to that — to its soothing analog pace. I hope for more conscious and deliberate connection with the neighbors in my virtual world, and look forward to meeting some of you here.

 

My quote of the day

…today and everyday for that matter because it comes up so much for me:

“The root of the word “jealousy,” is actually an old French word, jalousie, meaning “enthusiasm, love, longing.”

from Alexandra Franzen’s post, sent there from another Cape Codder’s blog (she packs some good leads) — rather funny, because it’s a topic I revisit constantly when I venture online.

Not jealous of this girl though, only happy and proud — my daughter’s off on solo travels this minute en route to Bali for 6 weeks. A huge thank you to my Squam pal, Cheryl, for hosting her in San Francisco before today’s departure.

Monday’s Child

I was born on a Monday and I always love it when my birthday falls on a Monday. Just finished the cake with my sweetie, my dad and my daughter here. My mom’s down the street, probably enjoying the cake I sent home to her with my dad. 9:09PM another year turns for me. I love that my birthday month is the same month as the Jewish New Year. There’s lots of love going around on a birthday if we are fortunate. I am.

Terry Tempest Williams

I’ve been blowing through countless mysteries in between the non-fiction I read. Books are my escape, my solace, part of my journey and healing when I am scared and uncertain. They are my self-soothing default (besides prayers) when I am struggling with what is beyond my control (essentially everything that is not myself).

When Women Were Birds has been on my must read list for some time (as are Williams’ other books). Her words and Rebecca Solnitt’s resonate profoundly with a deeper part of myself that I’ve neglected for the past several years, and it’s time for another resurrection. It’s that part of myself that recognizes a sacred path, and that I will be okay if I can trust. Trust is so scary when there is that constant fear of loss.

I start drafting blog posts, and then question how much of my monkey mind I want to share. So I will leave you with another quote today, one I discovered on Milla’s blog (I was familiar with Terry Tempest Williams from listening to NPR for so many years but have yet to read any of her books!).

Because of this quote (and a few others), I’m not feeling as resistant to the word Crone these days. Besides men at this stage of life hanging together are sometimes referred to as “cronies!” And I think of myself more and more as Crow. I love Crow.

So, a quote for you and a link for you also. Don’t know when I’ll have time to read her blog, but I do love that she practices NVC, and has some great new-to-me words (like “destuckification”) in her personal glossary.

“Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn, and to sing at dusk, was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is meant to be celebrated.”