Grace & Magic

My latest blog post for the Minerva Rising Literary Journal at minervarising.com.

Grace & Magic

It was the summer of 1972. At the time I lived with my parents on a modest 110-acre dairy farm. Imagine a white clapboard farmhouse with a front porch, a weathered gray barn, pastures abuzz with grasshoppers, and black-and-white cows slurping water out of a small, shallow pond.  

I tottered on the brink of adolescence, bookish and lonely. Our closest neighbors lived a mile away. My best friend lived on the other side of town. And then, city people “from away” purchased an abandoned house just up the road—maybe a quarter mile or so. They created a summer retreat and returned year after year. I don’t know about you, but over the years a person here and a person there have unexpectedly touched my life. Each time I’d never ever be the same again. One of the city people, a girl my age, became the first of them.     

She had traveled to Boston and Chicago, took ballet lessons, ate yogurt—whatever that was—and gasp! wore a bra. These observations elevated her to a dizzying height of sophistication I couldn’t match. My greatest accomplishment to date had entailed riding my bicycle four miles to the local mom-and-pop store for potato chips and root beer.    

I offer you a poem in tribute to memories of those who grace our lives with magic.  

Lost to Inexperience

Once, I watched you twist your long hair into

a tight bun against the soft nape of your neck,

and shut my eyes while you fastened it with

a shiny hair clip.

I wanted to kiss you when you turned around

and smiled at me, but the moment passed

into other moments and disappeared into the air

like a wisp of smoke.

Another time, you baked sweet cinnamon bread,

served me warm chunks slathered with honey butter,

and brushed crumbs from my lips.

My fingers brushed against your hand, and you

slipped away, pirouetting in perfect form across

the wooden floor until you paused, and bowed

to my inexperience.

My favorite photograph shows our faces in shadow,

your arm draped across my shoulders.

I kept the picture on my dresser until it faded,

and I couldn’t see our faces any longer. 

After graduation you attended Julliard.

I worked in an office filing people’s taxes.

When I called you one rainy Saturday,

Oh, is all you said.

Writing Circle

 

This week I started a 5-week writing workshop at a local cancer center. The flier for the workshop includes the following information:

 

Writing is a valuable tool for tapping into our memories, feelings, thoughts, and beliefs. Writing relieves stress, improves communication skills, and provides clarity, perspective, and potential solutions to life’s ongoing challenges.  

Writing is also a meaningful way to celebrate and record our experiences and life lessons for our children, grandchildren, and future generations to come.   

The Pen in Hand Writing Circle provides an opportunity for you to write in a safe, comfortable atmosphere. Grammar, spelling, and punctuation are on vacation while you write. This is not a therapy group though painful topics may arise in your writing. That’s okay. Release, clarity, and insight are often found while writing through the discomfort.  

Our time together will include guided writing exercises that invite reflection and discovery. Elements of nature, scraps of poetry, literature and music, art, photographs, dreams, and letters will inspire us. We may share our writing with the group if we wish though sharing isn’t required. We’ll write and discover what our souls are longing to tell us. 

If I write what my soul thinks,

It will be visible, and the words

Will be its body.

n  Helen Keller

Writing Muscles

I'm blessed to be a member of a writing group that has been meeting for ten years. We meet twice a month and provide each other with honest, constructive feedback on our creative projects. Writing exercises flex and tone our writing muscles. Recently, we responded to the following prompt: "I Am From . . ."

Here is my response:

I am from ancestors
who braved the sea,
waves of hope rolling
beneath their feet
and salting their prayers.

I am from a mother's dream
of love and redemption,
her breath and blood
spinning the alchemy
of time into the breath
and blood of my body.

I am from silence
before language
was found. I am from
words strung across
a landscape of years
spotted with laughter
and tears.

I am from a morning birth,
snow outside the window
singing a song of mystery.

The prompt was chosen from Writing Alone and With Others by Pat Schneider, a valuable resource for writers, writing groups, and those who wish to begin one.

Nature Note

PammieSue Beak is always searching for good eats in the grass.

Tin Heart

Each morning, between 4:30 and 5:00, an old sedan of some sort pauses at the blue box stationed across the road from our home. The driver takes five seconds—tops—to slide our newspaper into the box’s pocket. I’ve never glimpsed his face or heard his voice, but I’d recognize the tinny rattle within the car’s exhaust system in any lineup.

The carrier is a name scrawled onto a greeting card every Christmas, tucked between the newspaper's pages like a surprise gift. He’s a ghost on the periphery of my morning—there, then not there, a glowing afterimage behind my eye.   

I wonder whether he takes note of the lamplight shining in our kitchen and the darkness in the house next door. Who is awake? Who is brewing coffee? Pouring milk into a child’s cereal bowl before school? What is the hound dog’s name that bays at his approach and then settles back into rabbit-y dreams? Does the carrier listen to the radio, or does he listen to the silence?

Miles unspool beneath his wheels, heading west. What entertains his thoughts in the glow of the dashboard? What melody beats within his heart? Only he knows.

Bull Thistle (Cirsium vulgare)

It's thistle time. Usually thistles bloom in and alongside pastures and fields. This summer we have five bull thistle, or spear thistle, plants thriving and blooming in our backyard. A few tower above my head, and I don't stand much taller than 5'3".

 

The thistle's pink-purple blooms look like fuzzy conical hats against a landscape tiring of its summer's work of growth and production. 

 

The thistle is the national flower of Scotland. Unfortunately, in many areas it's considered an invasive weed and destroyed.

We encourage plants claiming a space in our backyard. Their beauty and value to the critters and birds with whom we share land and resources soon becomes clear. I avoid the thistle's sharp spines, but the American goldfinch eats its seeds and uses thistledown as a primary nest building material. Bees and butterflies feed on the blooms' nectar. We all win.

Once the bloom fades the seed pod turns brown. Soon parachute-like seeds will be dispersed and carried about by the wind to settle in a new growing location. They float by outside the window, small wisps of seed carrying the promise of life within themselves. Hopefully, as stewards of the land, we'll discover more plants finding a home in our yard.  

 

 

The ABC's of Thriving (Surviving) In A Writing Course

Thriving in a writing class can be achieved when armed with the proper tools and attitude. Writing well requires time, focus, and energy. The following tips will create a productive, positive learning experience for any student.

Attendance: Classes cost money. Get your money's worth by attending class.

Balance: Success requires balancing sleep, work, writing, and play. 

Calendar: Mark a calendar to prioritize your time and track assignment due dates. 

Dictionary: It’s still your best resource for finding out how to spell words correctly.

Email: Contact your instructor if you must miss class. It’s the polite thing to do. 

First drafts: You can fix a first draft, but you can’t revise a blank page.

Goals: Setting a specific goal or two will help you plan where you want to go.

Heart: Write from your heart to create meaning for your audience.

Ideas: Explore your interests.

Jokes: Laugh loud and often. 

Knowledge: Write about what you know. Learn about what you don't know.

Listen: What do you hear? Describe a sound using your five senses.

Motivate: Give yourself a reward after completing each assignment.  

Notes: Take notes in class. They help at two o’clock in the morning when a paper is due at eight.

Open Mind: Keep an open mind during class discussions.

Plagiarism: Don’t.

Quiet: Seek out moments of silence. Breathe.   

Read: Approach assignments with your opened mind. 

Syllabus: It's your map for the semester.

Tutors: Take advantage of the extra help a tutor can provide.

University policies: Learn them. They will keep you on track and out of trouble.

Visualize success: Yours.

Walk: A brisk walk will clear your head if you’re feeling overwhelmed. 

X-rated material: It's not appropriate in academic writing - ever.

Yum-o: Mom is right. Eat your fruits and veggies. 

Zero grades: Passing in something is better than passing in nothing.  

Brainstorming, drafting, and revision is up to the student. Professors want students to succeed, but students must earn success on the page.