Windingly Straight

I was outside in the backyard today and the wind was blowing. I felt for a moment like I was in the prairie strolling though knee high grasses on my Grandpa's farm with my mother. What I realized is that I am never far from home.

Maybe home isn't a place. Maybe home is our journey. Maybe we are all already home.*

What's your home?

Windingly Straight

The butterfly
glides in circles
and sideways
through trees;
lands and
dances away again

We delight in its
hap-hazard path
We laugh in its
drunkenness

But the butterfly
follows the scent of
the alien bee balm,
the sunshine zenia,
purple-crowned bush

The butterfly makes
no mistake--
Flying straightways
to the sweetness
it calls home

The butterfly laughs
turning circles of delight
as we spin along our
windingly straight way;
never quite knowing
we are already home

*Thanks, Jen, for reminding me I am always already home.

Embracing the Unexpected

Five years ago I would have been upset about today. I had PLANS. I was going to clean the house, turn flower beds for more plants, and finally get to that mending. My PLANS go exactly as I expect every time or else. The day started out as I had planned, and then it took a turn somewhere. I smiled and let it come.

What happens when a plan goes awry? What happens when you say "Yes!" and let the day roll along?

an unexpected embrace

a sore back woke me early today

the air cool and sticky and stifling

the recycling lay strewn across the yard

I felt the twinge of that back

with every paper and carton put back in bin

my feet dug into the prickly wet grass

my hair in a shower knot

I stare at the mending wondering

will I drag the sewing machine up the stairs?

will I change the bobbin four times

or hope the black thread doesn't show

on my red skirt?

the knock at the door sends me running

scattering the ripped skirts and dresses

flinging buttons across the still unmade bed

flowers, would you like shop

for flowers. my treat.

Yes, please. let's get flowers

by grace, off we went

returning with elephant ears

and swirly begonia leaves

and tomato and peppers

and bushy sweet smelling alyssum

returning in time to collect the children

and play in the backyard

with balls and sticks and squeaky swings

and draw on brown paper taped to the fence

inside lay the vacuuming and the dirty sink

the dishes, the paperwork, the unfolded laundry

and winter's blankets and, of course, the mending

on the still unmade bed

and I sit in the lawn and push swings

and sweep away spiders webs and pour

glasses of cold water and

give directions to the toilet.

yes, you're right. this house is messy

I smile in the warmth

of the late spring's warming embrace

and open the windows wider

To my Brother on his 30th Birthday

I had a tradition of writing a poem* to my brother, Jasper, every year on his birthday and threw it into the nearest and largest body of water I could find. The act reminded me that we were still connected even with the small magic of breath separating us. I wanted him to know the ways he was still with me.

For many years, the birthday poem was the only creative writing I did. I don't remember when I stopped and, now, for Jasper's 30th birthday, let's start again:
 
To my Brother on his 30th Birthday

Remember when we were pulled over
three times: once for speeding and three for a
missing headlight?

We laughed so much.

I still laugh when I see red and blue
reflections on the highway.
I smile at smashed up cars
because you are on the side of the road
sorting out where everyone is to go

My passenger seat is never empty.

You sit beside me in the dark
Because you know I don't like
Driving in the rain at night
On a black road
Or really like driving at all.

I know you've been here

When I wake up in the morning
with wobbly guts from a bear hug
and when that damn elephant
sits on my chest and I can't breathe.
You squeeze so tight.

My hugs aren't from me at all.
They come directly from you.

*Thank you to Carrie, my psudo-sister and self-professed brother's best friend, for reminding me of tradition, and how often Jasper shows up when we least expect it.

Who do you write to? Where to they show up inside of you?

Soul Vision

In a recent blog post at Jots Beyond the Margin, Traci asked us to write from an image. Images can be powerful writing prompts.

So when my friend and classmate Beth* introduced me to SoulCollage^® as both an art medium, a meditation, and a window into intuition, I was intrigued. In art of SoulCollage, you create a series of cards based on images that speak to you. Eventually they form a deck of cards with specific suites and meanings. The meanings sort themselves out along the way.
 
I looked at Beth's cards fascinated by the depth of the layers and the beauty of the images she put together. Along with fascination, came the wandering thoughts that I couldn't ever make something that looked that amazing. I hugged those thoughts and came home with an odd assortment of images and a stack of special Soulcollage card stock. They sat on the kitchen table for three weeks, and last weekend I decided it was time to jumped in.

Once I started making the collages, I was ordering more cards and putting a request out on free cycle for old calendar, magazines, and (I cry a little when I type this) coffee table books. I'm not clear on the meaning behind any of my cards yet, and I seem to have a fascination with blue herons and putting natural objects together with man-made ones.

Pick one and ponder. What does it say to you? What happens when you create your own? (Yes, there's tons more information at soulcollage.com.)

*Thank you Beth for the introduction and Olivia for the brilliant idea to use these as writing prompts..

P.S. My response to Traci's latest picture prompt challenge can be viewed at the Writersvibe.

Toward the Roar

A few weeks ago Challenging Perfection highlighted stepping into and exploring discomfort. I've hear the African fable of "going toward the roar" with the same idea. The fable goes something like this:

When lions hunt, the old slow lion finds a place to hide in the grass and the young agile lions stand ready. When a heard of gazelle (or whatever go by), the old lion roars a ferocious roar. The gazelle run away from the roar and right into the path of the young agile lions.

The moral: When loud ferocious things scares you, run toward them because sometimes that's the safest place to be. Here's a more detailed version of the story.

One of my biggest fears is of messing up and making mistakes. Last week I went toward my fear. I made curtains for a baby's room. I'm a novice at piecing fabric and sewing it together with perfectly matched seams. To give something less than perfect to someone else is something I can't do, and my machine sewing is not something perfect enough to gift.

At the very end of the project, I realized I hadn't anchored the corner seams well enough to keep them from untucking and unraveling. I decided to use these super fancy flower and swirly stitches my sewing machine could make for me. As I sewed, fancy stitches wandered--off the fabric. Instead of ripping it all out and starting over, I made up a story:

Bee Adventurous*

Once there lived a bee

He drank to much honey

and wove his way

through a flock of birds

He came upon some flowers

and stopped to rest

He play with the monkeys

The bee felt better

He wandered through

wide banana leaves

enjoying the sunshine

The bee smiled

He flew through a herd of elephants. 

He was feeling quite well

as he navigated tails and toes

and curling trunks

The bee was finally home 

He ate a bite of honey

and was rocked to sleep

in the breeze that held the hive

that cooled the elephants
that rustled the wide,
wide banana leaves
 that carried the laughter of monkeys

that held the birds
as they soared through the clouds
that carried the scent
of flowers and sweet, sweet honey

This month at the Writersvibe we are highlighting are favorite children's stories. When was the last time you told or read a child a story? Could you read to or spin a tale for someone this week?

*Thank you, Team Whale Rider, for the creative spark!