Month: June, 2012

June 29, 2012

dreaming in bad poetry

Last night was mostly a sleepless night. I’m not sure why.  Our bedroom was cool despite the ninety degree day. I did sleep for an hour or so and had a dream.

I was on a bed with several people.  One of them was a mixed media artist and poet. She had a volume of poems printed on white paper and pasted into a turquoise and yellow book.  I opened it and this was one of them:

i’m sorry the media got involved

it was only meant for us

you have to admit

the sign on the door did say cash only

I was a little embarrassed for her, but then a Cuban man showed up and he had a family issue and needed my help.  My dog Selkie was also running around and my grandfather was on the bed too. I woke up and jotted the dream down right away. I have no idea what it means.

Why on earth am I sharing this?

Let me make up for it with some link love for the coffee drinkers and writers out there:

money/grants for writers

Here’s a mint idea.

leftover coffee?

some gold amongst the straw

2 comments
June 29, 2012

crescendo

Crescendo: Gradually increasing in volume, force, or intensity.

I’ve been missing for awhile and not just from this space. My health issues finally reached their crescendo (I hope) and ended in a cancer scare that was more than a scare, but as of this moment is not a reality.

Fourteen visits to my physician’s office, the hospital, ultrasounds, stress tests and a surgical procedure. It takes a toll. I am relieved and am gradually regaining my strength.

I cannot seem to muster up energy to do anything lately, but my book has become important to me in a way that no other creative work has.  Characters and places are being born.  I feel as if story is pouring into me and my insides are scrambling to make room. This has to be a good thing, I believe.

In other news, my hollyhocks are finally blooming…starting at the bottom and working their way up.

Speaking of creative projects.  My heart has been captured.  I have what she has…a gypsy box filled with crystals and other magical delights…how much fun is it to see something you love and know you have your very own?  Plus, I have a tent too.

2 comments
June 19, 2012

toosday

This picture paints such a dismal scene of our backyard, but with the thunder and rain we had yesterday I think it captures the mood. Next to the compost bin (which I made out of pallets, thank you very much!) is hollyhock. It’s the second year and we may get blooms.

Last week it was nice to sit at the picnic table and read the latest free offering from the health food store.

Of course, on rainy days we do have options:

Apparently there is a generation gap on twitter, “Who is Rodney King?”.

Yikes. I feel old.

Speaking of which, I’m feeling a little low-energy today, so it’s more random link love for you:

Oh, and some wisdom from Pooh:

“You can’t help respecting anybody who can spell TUESDAY, even if he doesn’t spell it right; but spelling isn’t everything.

There are days when spelling Tuesday simply doesn’t count.”

 

 

1 comment
June 17, 2012

my cup of tea

I did a good faith search to fine the original source of this photo, but after finding it on Pinterest and following link after link after link…I didn’t land anywhere near a site that names the source. My apologies.

Things that are my cup of tea:

vintage roly poly lowball glasses

pablo neruda’s take on the lemon

generous bloggers who share for free (oh, go ahead and fill it out…you might surprise yourself with your answers!)

I haven’t taken it, but want to.

Nick Drake’s Pink Moon  (his is a sad tale)

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June 16, 2012

words of wisdom from marilyn monroe

In just these two pages of Marilyn Monroe’s diary/journal/notebook one can see how she was doing her best to work through complex issues.  Some of it may be hard to read because of her handwriting.  On the first page she is realizing that she is still obeying her Aunt Ida (her foster-mother), a woman who humiliated her often as a child.

Here is most of the first section…someone had the nerve to criticize her spelling…my God, I hope no one ever sees my journals.  It makes me angry that there are people who view these words as finished poems and criticize them for being so poorly written.  What?  It is clear they were being “worked”.  It is also clear some were just thoughts.  Anyone who has ever attempted to write a poem based on inner feelings should understand the horror of dying only to have your thoughts surface as “finished works”.

Ida — I have still
been obeying her —
it’s not only harmful
for me to do so
but unrealality because
life starts from Now ….
working (doing my tasks that I
have set for myself)
On the stage — I will
not be punished for it
or be whipped
or be threatened
or not be loved
or sent to hell to burn with bad people
feeling that I am also bad.
or be afraid of my [genitals] being
or ashamed
exposed known and seen —
so what
or ashamed of my
sensitive feelings —

Other words of wisdom:

“I will be as sensitive as I am without being ashamed of it.”

“I haven’t had faith in life, meaning reality. Whatever is is or happens, there is nothing to hold onto but reality. To realize the present, whatever it may be. Because that’s how it is and it’s much better.”

“Its not to much fun to know yourself to well or think you do—everyone needs a little conciet to carry them through & past the falls.”

Marilyn Monroe

I am an avid reader of self-help and women’s discovery blogs. Let me tell you…similar words are all over the internet.  Shame is a common theme among women (men too, but they don’t blog about it as much).  I find her words sad, wise and deeply moving.

Here is a wonderful article on how they came to be.

If that’s too heavy for you on a gorgeous Saturday morning, feel free to hop over here for some culinary inspiration.

6 comments
June 15, 2012

it’s about the berries. they’re not local.

You ought to have seen what I saw on my way
To the village, through Mortenson’s pasture to-day:
Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum

Robert Frost

I picked up a quart of deep red strawberries at the local farmer’s market on Tuesday. They were juicy, achingly sweet and perfect.  Is there any other reason for the month of June?

I noticed at least fifty flats of blueberries at the booth.  I asked the farmer where they came from since it seems a little early in the season.  Michigan maybe?

Nope.

Florida. 

I understand we had a late hard frost and probably won’t be seeing many peaches and blueberries out of Michigan, but it shocked me that the market is selling non-organic blueberries from Florida.  We can get those at any grocery store in town. I know our farmers need to make a living even when the weather isn’t favorable, but it hardly seems in the spirit of things.  Though, there is strong local demand (judging from the number of flats being sold).

I also hate to write this because I’m a firm small farmer supporter, but the blueberries didn’t have a sign indicating state of origin and it was very clear that shoppers were excited about them and assumed they were from Michigan (still over 100 miles away).  The people working the stand were not correcting their assumptions.

I’m torn.

Blueberries mean income and I want our farmers to do well, but at the same time it seems strange to head on over to the town square to get some blueberries from Florida.  I’ve never seen a pineapple or mango at our market and we all understand our climate isn’t right, so why can’t we just accept that sadly, this summer, the climate isn’t right and we won’t be seeing blueberries?

Why? Because it’s summertime and the American people want their blueberries big and perfect and here and now.

You may be thinking that supporting a local farmer and his “imports” is much more palatable than heading over to a Wal-Mart superstore to get the same ones and while I don’t disagree, I still find it disappointing on some level.

On a much more positive note, how about some berry poetry? I scoured the poems of my favorites (Pablo Neruda, ee cummings and Hafiz), but found nary a berry poem among them.

Robert Frost

Amy Lowell

Irving Layton

And one of the best berry pics ever as seen over at decor8, taken by John Cullen and found by me on Pinterest.

2 comments
June 14, 2012

gypsy beach queen

Want more?

Hop over to Gyspy Beach Queen.

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June 13, 2012

the lake, filthy love letters, mangos, writers

 

A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable. 

William Wordsworth

I could get lost in the sound of waves and be happy ever after.  A little known fact is that before I decided to move to Manitowoc, I had never been here.  Not even for a visit.

I knew I needed to be near Lake Michigan and no other town sounded right.  It was one of the rare times when I followed a calling.  I love the lake and many aspects of my small town are charming, but I’ll admit to wondering why I’m here. What led me to this little town when there are so many other ones on the lakeshore?  I feel my time here may be up, but there is no urgency or certainty in that feeling.  We shall see what we shall see and that is that.

In other news:

Did you know that you can grow a mango tree/plant much the same way avocado trees were started in the 70′s?

James Joyce write some positively filthy love letters to lucky Nora. Check out December 8th. Who knew?

I like many of these tips for writers…especially Kurt Vonnegut’s.

2 comments
June 12, 2012

heART work

Today I will be cleaning the kitchen and working on my novel for young adults. Right now, it is my heart project.

Over the years I’ve divided projects into those that are “bread and butter” and those that are from my “heart”.  Heart projects can be bread and butter projects too, but I take them more seriously. I’m emotionally invested.

Yesterday it was decided that from this point forward I will only work on heart projects.  Life is too short.  My deal with the Universe (yes, that is Universe with a capital U) is that I write the stories or make the art and it places the work for me.  I do my part and it does the rest.  Co-creation. So far so good.

Links make your day a little more lovely:

This interview with Kyo Maclear author of the sweetest book ever.

This book trailer for the above mentioned book. The song by Basia Bulat is gorgeous!

This how-to for making wine bottle vases. It scares me a little, but I may have to try it.

This e-course. I hope you watch the trailer.

And since heart projects were the subject today, let’s get to Basia Bulat’s Heart of My Own.

4 comments
June 11, 2012

all of my days

Yesterday was magical.  I started the day early by watering my flowers and felt in awe of the brilliance of the colors. The shocking pink and orange gerbera daisies along with the deep purple petunias edged in chartreuse are my favorites.

I let Selkie play in the spray from the hose until she decided it would be much more fun to dig a hole under the picnic table.  I didn’t fight her this time because of my much anticipated distraction…a letter (with art) from Paris.

In the afternoon there was a late breakfast at a local diner that not only has kitschy vinyl tablecloths dotted with turquoise, navy blue and yellow fish, but is also a place where two people can leave stuffed (if they are so inclined) for ten dollars.  I didn’t indulge in the one dollar Mimosas, but I reserve the right to in the future.  On our way out we bumped into a guy who used to own a coffee shop down the street from us, but who now works in my favorite restaurant (also just down the street).  Some people are a pleasure every time you see them.  Even Mark is warm to him.

Later, in my studio, I chatted with a friend on Skype for quite a while, perused Facebook and eventually made my way to the beach for an hour. I read by the water and decided that bathing suit ready or not, I have got to swimming this summer. It’s been too long.

I closed out my day with Madmen, some stretching and a tall glass of sparkling grapefruit mineral water.  Perfect.

Oh, and on the next camping trip, I’m making these:

6 comments
June 10, 2012

still here

The other day I wrote to a friend about some changes in my life and health. I closed by writing, “I’m still in here, somewhere. . . if you know what I mean.”

Later I headed to the beach for some respite from the heat.  It was windy.  The sand was hot but the water was icy.  I took off my flats, waded in a few inches and loved the cold numbing my ankles.  Small waves hit my legs with tremendous force.  They pulled the wet sand from under my feet causing me to sink a few inches with every crash.  It was a dance of regaining footing and losing it. Again and again. Still, I kept moving forward.  I wanted to be in that water with all of my heart’s desire.  Nothing could have stopped me.  I continued my awkward water-sand dance a long way down the shore.

It occurred to me that when I really want to do something. . .I do it.  Just last week I would have said I never follow through for myself and hardly ever go after what I want with determination.  However, I know this isn’t entirely true.

Maybe I haven’t really wanted what I thought.  Perhaps, rather than seeing my life as a long list of unmet goals, I need to accept the idea that many of the things I deem important are things I don’t want with all of my heart’s desire.  Perhaps it would be wise to reassess and stop berating myself for not accomplishing  the things on a list I created when I was fourteen.  You think?

I look forward to exploring my real wants and my new dreams. Perhaps I’ll be surprised.

I came home and looked at the photo taken just hours before I left for the beach and it struck me as too clear and too crisp. I’m gaining clarity, but still finding my way out, so I edited the picture to more accurately reflect what is happening inside. Clarity is coming, new dreams are being formed.

Nothing is solid, but I am emerging.

I am in here, somewhere. . .if you know what I mean.

4 comments
June 9, 2012

it’s official

I once had a friend who was always raving about goat milk ice cream.  I can’t even think of such a thing without making an ugly facial expression.

Goat milk and I go way back. When I lived in on a small island in Maine our close friends raised goats.  Watching them strain the fresh milk and pour it on our homemade granola was fascinating, but choking down that granola (on numerous occasions) was a real test of my manners.  I didn’t think it was gross because it came from goats, not at all. I didn’t like the taste.

Later, while working for a catering company, I had the chance to taste many varieties of goat milk cheese.  I wasn’t impressed.

I’ve actually felt defensive with foodie friends because some are certain I must have a “bland palate” not to appreciate the musty tang of a good chèvre.  Isn’t that a little insulting? I dislike culinary elitism.  Statements such as, “Oh, it’s an acquired taste.” make me roll my eyes. Who has the time?

Today, I bought some feta (I usually buy cow’s milk feta) and missed the place on the label where it said it was made with goat milk. I opened the package, sliced a piece and as soon as it hit my mouth I knew I’d made a mistake.  There is no getting around it.  I do not like it, will never like it and that is that.

If you are still hanging in with me on this post, here is a little treat-its already been funded, but  I love the idea/video: Wollstonecraf

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June 9, 2012

A few days ago I spent some quality time at Mauthe Lake.  It was part of my Transit of Venus celebration and unless green smoothies really are miracles and I live to see 2117, it was the last one in this lifetime.  It was breezy and the sky was clear. I had a perfect view (with my eclipse glasses) and while waiting for that little brown dot to become visible, I found myself totally mesmerized by the plants under the surface of the lake. The picture does not do the lake justice.  You cannot see the yellow and orange flowers that dotted the lilypads nor can you see the tiny fish darting about in their underwater world.  It was bliss.

I make no bones about the fact that I don’t have much of a formal education.  At this point in my life I no longer carry shame about dropping out of high school.  I recognize that life has schooled me pretty well.  However, every now and then something comes up that serves as a reminder of some of the gaps I have in basic knowledge.  I recently stumbled across this book in a thrift store. It was fifty cents. Well worth the price.

There is a reading for each day of the week on one of seven subjects (History, Literature, Visual Arts, Science, Music, Philosophy and Religion). I’ve been pleased and rather smug until this point because there haven’t  been any huge surprises.  However, today as I began reading page two I was brought down from yesterday’s high.

I never realized that James Joyce’s Ulysses is a retelling of Homer’s Odyssey in the context of a single day in the life his character Leopold Bloom. Leopold is a Jew living in Catholic Ireland and very much a hero.  Of course I’d heard of James Joyce, but to be honest I just never felt drawn to his work.  I think I did try reading Dubliners once, but never focused or finished it.  Now I feel a little spark of interest that didn’t exist yesterday.  I love stories that are retold or sit on top of one another so to speak.  I can’t help but wonder if everyone learned this in their Sophomore English classes?

OK, and now onto a recent realization.  I saw a gorgeous vanity in a thrift store the other day.  It is the absolute 1950′s vanity of my dreams…right down to its enormous circular frame-less mirror and its beautiful color (worn vintage green). It even has a bench and a matching chest of drawers. A few years ago purchasing it would have been a no brainer, but right now we are committed to saving for some other things.

I had a few moments of tantrum as I stood there knowing I would not be calling a mover to come pick it up and deliver it to my apartment.  OK, more than a few moments.  Suddenly it dawned on me that until that day I had never even seen the vanity of my dreams made manifest in the real world. Now at least I know it exists and there must be others.  I feel more patient because someday, I will see that vanity again and someday it will be mine.

And, life was nice last night.  We drove to Pine Woods and had a fast food picnic near the lake.

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June 8, 2012

an invitation

I’ve been undergoing enormous personal change over here.  I am in a period of renewal and healing.  I’ll get into the healing some other time, but I can share more about the renewal right now.

I used to be a person who truly appreciated the small things in life. The tiny things like a quartz crystal or a handmade pin wrapped beautifully and gifted to me with no words by my soon to be closest friend in the world or the loving act of a magenta Gerbera daisy dropped off at my job just because.  I understood the blessing of an out of the blue (yet perfectly timed) phone call or even a friendly wave from a stranger.

Intellectually I still understand the importance of friendly gestures and tiny acts of kindness, but lately my appreciation hasn’t been heartfelt. I’ve been experiencing  disconnect on many levels.

Recently, I had the luxury to spend a great deal of time doing nothing.  Several things occurred to me and one of them was that I miss blogging and documenting my life the way I did several years ago on another blog. I shared ups and downs and epiphanies that may have been trivial to some, but always felt important to me. I also realized how much I miss learning and discovering new things. I used to be quite curious about the world around me and all the “goings on” of the planet, history, science, metaphysical experiments and people’s ideas and stories.  Now, I’ll admit to having a rather lazy brain and also to being kind of lax about emotional, physical, mental and spiritual self-care.  I plan to change that.

I’d like to share more regularly at this space and while I cannot promise bright lights and applause (except my own) I’d love it if you stopped in to comment on a post or two, to share some of your own insights and to join me in upgrading my life.  I plan to share the little things (Hey, I found a place that makes a great latte!) and the not so little things (Hey, did you know that your lack of energy might not be “your fault”? It could be because you are severely anemic?).  Plus, I love tidbits, poetry and little gems of joy so you can expect the unexpected when you visit.

Please come along and join me…let’s see how we do.

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