On Your Mark...Get Set—Go

I’ve bitten the bullet — once again. November means novel writing month. Sign up and commit to writing a novel of 50,000 words during the month. Yes, most of these novels are simply a stream of words, but some —after much editing— become good books. This year over 400,000 people from all over the world will have their fingers poised to go. In addition 95,000 young people will write a bit more abbreviated novels.

I completed a novel in 2012 and framed my completion certificate and buried the novel. Four years later I tried again and ran out of steam. This time I have a motive. For years a story simmers beneath the surface and never moves beyond wishful thinking. I don’t really care if I reach the grand total of 50,000, but I do want to move beyond a daydream. 

I also daydream about putting together a mss of my poems— but that’s a matter of editing and culling poems from those already written. Perhaps this winter.

But the novel is different. It’s a story without a framework. So on the last day of sign up I signed up— figured out how to upload my word count and tomorrow I’ll jump in and write. No editing. And if I stop before reaching the magic number ....

If I begin the story and ferret out where I want to go...

If I give my characters free choice...

Perhaps the story that I want to tell will be written— or begun.

Words of Faith and Hope

Yesterday and today I have read and re-read a number of pieces regarding the shooting at The Tree of Life Synagogue. I listened to a service at a Gay and Lesbian Congregation in New York City. I cried when short paragraphs were read giving dimension to each of the eleven. 

A little while ago I read a long piece written by a rabbi who blogs as SRQ Jew She spoke about three separate occurrences that give her hope. She was in her car when her phone rang and it was a well known Christian minister, Pastor Glenn Bell, asking her what he could do. He broke the news to her.

The Greek Orthodox Church near her home flew the flag at half mast.

And the night of a vigil she received a call from a woman who spoke English with a marked accent. The woman wanted to know if she could bring her three young children to the vigil. She identified herself as a Muslim woman.

By the end of the vigil the Rabbi and the woman connected with a hug.

Rabbi Jennifer Singer ends her blog piece:

 “ Broken places can be healed, and the Tree of Life has deep roots. If we are willing to do the hard work, our words and actions can water those roots, can help the tree flourish once again. On behalf of those whose lives were cut short and with God’s help, we must.” 

https://srqjew.wordpress.com

This is Not Where I Want to Live

If you’re black take care

If you’re a Jew watch out

It’s not safe out there

It’s not safe in the grocery store

Take care where you pray

And if you’re queer 

they want to erase who you are

If you’re a refugee the gate is closed

It’s not safe if you wear a Hijab

or your name sounds as if you are Muslim 

These are hard times 

This is not the time for silence

This is the time to say no more

“Tell Me What is New”

I meant to tell you  I spread

red pepper all around the hole

a mole dug.  Burrowing

 animals can’t stand the smell.

The lavender bushes, unruly

and wild looking, still bloom.

I forgot to mention drawing

with charcoal and fixing 

drawings with skim milk. Now I

wonder if insects will arrive to chew

up my sketches. Did I mention

that we cleaned a plugged sink

and cancelled the plumber’s visit?

Perhaps I missed the chance to tell

you of what I’m reading. At this moment

I am reading a mystery, a noir tale.

Then there’s this week’s parshah portion

and the commentaries I read—

 each one told with the writer’s slant.

I, too, hold a view of Abraham

and the binding of his son. 

And I forgot to tell you of my new 

thermos keeping tea hot for six hours.

Instead of Shabbat Shalom

              eleven killed in synagogue massacre 

what did he think

when he picked up his gun

did he look at any person

and wonder about the people 

they loved, the people who loved them

did he understand the loss

the hole in the world

or did he wear blinders

and only hear his own rhetoric

did he hear the prayers

praising God 

A Koan?

Change alters time
Into the past
While the present
rushes into the future
and misses the moment

Finding Your Groove

Many years ago, decades ago, I won a gold key in the Scholastic Art Contest. My entry—a charcoal still life drawing done in a class at the Art Student’s League. Today I once again picked up charcoal in an art class.

Charcoal can be a messy medium. This time I, along with several others, wore rubber gloves. Rather than start with a still life we spent an hour playing with the charcoal and erasers. Instead of feeling confined by shapes I allowed my hand and arm to explore line, shade, value.

This permission to explore, encouragement to discover rather than confinement to a subject,  was exhilarating. So when for the second hour we selected a white bone—mine was the head of a goat— and began a contour drawing I felt a looseness earned during the previous hour.

It’s the same with writing a long piece or even a short poem. You may write and write pages before you really discover what it is you want to say.

It’s about getting into the right space.

To be Aware

you feel the hairline crack
in a  fractured bowl
repaired with glue

Watching Game 1 of the World Series

Being a fan is heart stopping—worrisome and leads to long nights and short sleeps. Our starting pitcher has thrown too many pitches, relievers are called upon, two men on and no one out— time to panic. Breathe. This is the first game and it is a long series. Why am I worried? 

One out. Perhaps I should concentrate on the state of our union and the possibility of more blue in Congress. Maybe there will be a chance to stop our slide into a country led by a president and government  that lacks compassion, that accepts lies, that is cruel, that has given permission to a swath of society to indulge in hateful language as well as hateful acts. 

Game is tied. Two outs. Three outs. Breathe— in, out,in, out...

Winning isn’t everything. But it is nice to win honestly— today our country has pockets where citizens are losing their right to vote. Racial politics is another character in our political environment— and it is ugly.

We’re ahead by two runs— but a long way to go.

Unfinished Still Life

 I ate the pear 

that I set on a white plate

Post Time

Tomorrow brings only itself

unspooling time in fragments,

strata by strata only to be read

and deciphered in time not here

On Change

Is it too early to encounter

autumn leaves caught between 

slender blades of grass 

Perhaps  I find it hard

to loosen my grip on summer,

the assurance of warmth

and long days before the dark

Letting go of what has been

is hard work, releasing what was

and living in a new present

takes patience 

and faith that the day 

will still have light

Why and When

Questions

Why does the electric company tell me I used 6.7 % more electricity this month than last year for the same period? I actually used less—their rate went up.

And why did the window jump it’s track and we couldn’t  get it back correctly? It took a friend to fix the window. Of course the friend works as a HandyWoman, but my mechanical skills are sub-par.

And why did three books I requested all come at the same time?
Why has the weather turned when I still want to play golf?

Why has our country become so divided?
Why is the topic of abortion driving our politics?
Why has civility disappeared?

I am liberal and progressive. When can we sit down and talk about differences without demonizing each other? Until we return to listening without a rebuttal the moment the speaker takes a breath—there’s little hope

                  “There's a lot of difference between listening and hearing.” 
                            G. K. Chesterton

One More Game

I find myself talking to the television when a player takes aim at a ball too high or too low. I cross my fingers when the pitcher on my team throws too many balls. I worry with men on base. This is serious. I want to will them to win.

Odd isn’t it how we commit to our team, wear their colors, and feel as if we are right there on the field. I may be seated in the northeast, but my heart is right there with the Red Sox. One more win and they win their way into the World Series.

Yes, we won. On to the World Series.

Cramped Quarters

roots strain 

against red clay 

crack the pot

and stretch

Books

I spent an hour looking through my books. What can go and what can stay? With a smaller house and fewer bookcases each book must carry its weight. Almost all fiction books are gone or are on my kindle. Gone are the days when my shelves held a number of mystery series and history books and both literary and popular fiction.

Today I noticed that books were beginning to find resting places on top of other books with barely any room for new books. Time to slim down. My collection today— shelves of poetry books, writing books, and religious books. Of course there’s my Complete Flannery O’Connor short stories, her letters, and her book of prose. She’ll always have shelf space.

My poetry collection grows larger. My most recent book ( a present) The Poetry of Impermanence, Mindfulness, and Joy. A delightful collection of  “.. from Basho to Zagajewski.”

 The editor, John Brehm, says one of his goals  “ has been to show how beautifully the Dharma manifests even in poems by poets who were not practicing Buddhists or knew little or nothing about Buddhism.”

Then I came upon Journeys of Simplicity edited by Philip Harnden. It’s a slim book and was pushed out of view. I found an old photo tucked inside. My how young I looked.

“Traveling light—imagine this meaning: , unencumbered journeying, a graceful way of traveling.  through life like a single leaf...What would it mean to make one’s life ...a journey unencumbered, uncluttered, without distraction—a journey of focus and intention?”

Each piece in this anthology is spare— lists of journeys of simplicity. “Where do our journeys take us? What do we leave behind? What do we carry with us? How do we find our way?”

Harnden writes, “We take delight in things; we take delight in being loosed from things. Between these two delights, we must dance our lives.”

I took delight in taking twelve books to the library and great delight in finding myself rediscovering a few books. 

 And for the time when I truly run out of shelf space  I checked on Google to see if anyone had done a quasi-scientific study of vertical stacking vs horizontal stacking. It appears that horizontal sticking for paperbacks will allow you to add fifteen to twenty more books to your shelf. Of course there are some disadvantages — difficulty taking a book out of a tightly stacked column. 

A Fair Exchange

my neighbor’s trees

share leaves 

in the autumn

and shade in the summer

That Special Day That Comes Once a Year

At first I wasn’t sure of how to structure the day? Did I want to wander through a museum? Was there an art movie I desired to see? Then I read about a Plein Air day at a sculpture park. A friend told me of her town’s Open Studio Day — local studios open all around town. It all depended on the weather.

And the weather was dry, crisp, and even sunny at times. We set out for Walden Pond and a walk around the pond. In spots the path, narrowed by recent rains and slanted toward the water, required great dexterity to avoid wet sneakers. Swimmers in wet suits, swimmers without wet suits, walkers, people sitting on rocks reading, some fishing, children collecting treasures — all enjoying the pond. I loved how we walked at a good pace— still able to pass some walkers ( probably because they were strolling).

A quick lunch at a favorite farm market and then to DeCordova Sculpture Park to see plein air artists select their spots, paint, and then wait for the judges to select winners in different categories.

Before the Open Studio artists closed their doors we managed to see two studios— engage the artists in conversation and avoid nibbling on snacks.

We brought Thai dinner in and watched both the Patriots vs Kansas City and the Red Sox against Houston. Winning both games would cap off the day. So far the Sox won.

And just now the Patriots won. Perfect day spent with someone I love.

It’ s Always this Way

You choose
Where to go
What to do
Where to eat
Decisions
you get to make once a year
I remember the year I turned eleven
my father  wheeled a red bike
into the foyer, or  was it the dining room
In a three room apartment
rooms take on many names
I named the bike Tinker Bell
and  believed she could fly
She was my Magic Carpet

After Reading About Noah

Noah why did you remain silent

Why didn’t you ask God to save

the man who knew how to bind

wounds and heal the ill

or the woman who baked bread

and gave it away 

No arguments

No questioning

No acting for others 

You never said a word

You toiled for years 

followed the blueprint, 

accepted your righteousness,  

a mantle thrown over a shoulder

Did God wait for you to ask

about the other good people

Later on others would argue

Forever

It’s over. The permanent crown is in— cemented down, mine. For the two weeks prior to today I did not chew on that side of my mouth lest the temporary crown become dislodged. I could swallow it or catch it on my tongue or have it lodged between my cheek and tongue. Since this crown was on the top and the last tooth I thought it best to eschew any chances.

So for two weeks I not only avoided the area, but I also stayed away from anything chewy or hard. The instructions warned that leaving the temporary out of your mouth could lead to your teeth shifting. 

Place it, back in your mouth— it can be adhered with Vaseline —until you contact the dentist. I visualized holding this tooth and attempting to fit it in— “It only fits one way.” —to quote the dentist. If I stood up straight there was the possibility of loosing my grip and the tooth slipping. And if I bent over the sink I might have some difficulty finding the exact position for the tooth. 

And then there was the concern of Vaseline— don’t swallow and how much was needed. Of course a preemptive action— the purchase of false teeth adhesive was a possibility which I rejected. 

So I returned to the dentist, stared at the poster of the canyons in the southwest which  replaced a Disney poster when her daughter entered a PhD program in geology. I envisioned myself hiding within the canyon.

Then it was done. I can chew on that side of my mouth again. But I think I’ll give the permanent glue another day to set. Best to be certain.

A Character Fault

I admit to a character fault — an easy one to acknowledge and possibly shared by a plethora of other people. When I check out a new art blog, or someone sends me an email with a link to their site, I may be smitten with that article And immediately subscribe. I become a follower.

As a follower I begin to receive email messages—sometimes daily messages. My initial delight wanes and I find myself deleting and deleting. Finally, I open up the email, click to get on the blog, scroll down to the bottom of all the written material, and unsubscribe. Sometimes that doesn’t work necessitating a return to the blog.

When the screen appears asking me why I am unsubscribing I always chose — I don’t want to receive these messages.

As I look at the long list of emails I recognize a pattern. When I thought that I’d cook a new recipe every week I began to collect cooking blogs. Today I read about twelve easy dips, seven salmon recipes, and recipes for a football crowd. The only dips I like are made by others, I did have salmon tonight cooked my usual way, and we like to watch football on mute—until the playoffs.

I keep a list of books gleaned from blogs or the book reviews that arrive each week. My present list will allow me to read a book a day through next year. 

On the positive side— I don’t play games on my phone.

4-3. A Red Sox Win

I watched 

I kept my fingers crossed

When the Yankee crowd

ratcheted up their noise

and fans banged on the

stadium walls I ignored the din

When in the bottom of the ninth

it all seemed to fall apart

and they had a chance to tie or win 

I began to pray although I know

that God doesn’t take sides 

It wasn’t over until the last out

I undid my fingers, took a sip of wine

and thought we live another day

Take a Break

Surrounded by political grandiosity, by falsehoods and Machiavellian machinations , by pundits who predict political trends, by possible future legislative configurations —I  take a walk, buy two new tubes of watercolor paint, read a mystery, and fill my pen with waterproof carbon black ink.

 I took a walk in my neighborhood—past people walking dogs, past pumpkins on stoops, past signs reminding  neighbors to vote against repealing our transgender equality legislation, past signs that remind us that there’s no room for hate in our community. I love the diversity in this town.

Tomorrow I shall paint a still life of two pears—one whole and one halved. Hopefully, I’ll finish my mystery and figure out “who done it” before the last page. 

Then I’ll be ready to read  the paper, listen to the rhetoric. I’ll be ready to join the fray.

Equilibrium

Light a candle

let it illuminate

corners, edges—

blur shadows

until no sharp

details remain

What If ?

If only the tides 

turned away

and the signatures

of pipers left imprints

of a dance—pirouetting—

bobbing with delight

along the shoreline
Would it make a difference
to walkers?

A Frightening Slide

I am, as are so many others, beyond disturbed. Totalitarian governments ignore truth, refuse to examine all the evidence, tear into anyone who disagrees, mock other opinions, and engage in sleight of hand to garner approval. They stir the embers of hate, grant permission for people to engage in offensive rhetoric and actions. 

Everyday the press is attacked. A free press is essential for a democracy. In totalitarian countries there is no free press. News is controlled, sifted , and  written to further the blueprint of the leader.

The demise of democracy doesn’t happen in a vacuum. People initially acquiesce. They become sheep. Angry sheep complicit in the downward trend. 

In our country we have swaths of people who willingly gave up any shred of decency and fair mindedness, who refused to accept that there are any other views save theirs, and they are willing to accept this slide in order to see their views enshrined. 

Today a candidate for our Supreme Court, a man who lied, who was accused of sexual assault, garnered enough initial votes to become the next justice.

 A limited FBI  investigation that ignored a number of people who had important information, that ignored over 1,000 law professors who said his temperament and bias precludes him as a justice, that ignored a retired justice who wrote a critique arguing that the candidate’s bias precludes him as an acceptable justice — 

And why? Because they know he will push their agenda. A sham. A slide. 

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Political Landscape

too many ignore the rumblings

while he incites the mobs

trades in lies, writes a new manifesto

too many chose his words

the words of a tyrant

who will rewrite their common book

Let’s All Break Bread

Just a follow-up to yesterday’s concern about a disappearing sign. The sign returns to the church front on Friday. Then the leadership group will write guidelines for signs...banners, flags.  I’m pleased with the return.

But I am saddened to realize that this even became an issue that needed resolving.  Perhaps I need to just rest knowing that a group of people recognized that taking a stand for equality is the only moral choice.

I must admit to an edge. Why is it that every group that is outside of what is deemed the “normal”—prevalent group must wait to be included?  Permission. Gay and lesbian people needed to wait outside the door until they were granted permission to marry. 

But I am pleased that the place of worship, this church in an affluent town, has weighed the pros and cons and decided to return a simple sign of support to their front lawn. 

Someday I hope and pray that no one will need to be given permission to sit at the table.

A Sign Supporting a “Yes” Vote

First the sign announced support

Then the sign disappeared

What happened in between—

       
         “ A Yes” vote on Question 3 supports 

           upholding a law that prohibits 

           discrimination based on gender

           identity in public places. The law 

           requires access to areas segregated 

           based on gender —such as bathrooms 

           and locker rooms—to be allowed 

           according to an individual’s self-identified 

           gender identity.”

      
First the sign announced support

Then the sign disappeared

What happened in between—

Stories often take their place 

where one word ends 

and another begins 

Did a few parishioners think 

the sign too political 

or did a few believe that 

Transgendered rights 

were a subject best avoided

Did someone ask if the boundaries 

had been stretched too far

The minister called for church leaders 

to discuss what to do about the sign

Perhaps we need another sign 

Walk in someone else’s shoes

The sign is down 

and straight white leaders 

will write the story