A Poet’s Nanaimo

Begin Again

The New Moon is a good time to come up with an intent for the next lunar cycle. (The moon was dark on Monday and now there’s a sliver in the sky.) On Sunday a small piece in the collage I did, prompted my intent: “At a sale of the unredeemed what will I remember, take back, reclaim, renew?”

An intent usually isn’t in the form of a question, but there you go. The small collage bit was a reproduction of a very old ad for an auction of unredeemed items from a pawn shop. “Sale of the unredeemed” really captured my interest. Just the sound of it created a poem, or at least the title of one. “Redeemed” is a term I would have heard in my early days going to church with my grandmother but right now, I’m thinking about taking back what I may have given up or forgotten.

In the Mary Oliver poem I referred to in my last blog entitled “Living the Questions,” she says: “And who will care, who will chide you if you wander away / from wherever you are, to look for your soul?”

Thomas Moore said something in his book, Care of the Soul, that to me connects with that sale of the unredeemed: “Observance of the soul can be deceptively simple. You take back what has been disowned. You work with what is, rather than with what you wish were there.”

I came across the quote in The Wisdom of the Body by Christine Valters Paintner, a book I’ve been reading as part of my morning practice. It feels to me as if the “unredeemed” may be the gifts we haven’t been acknowledging and if we don’t, they […]

Living the Questions

Have you noticed that Mary Oliver includes a lot of questions in her poems? Not in every poem, but in several. For instance this question: “Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?” (“Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches?” in West Wind: Poems and Prose Poems.) The question gives one pause, don’t you think?

I thought at first that Mary was asking herself these questions and therefore we readers can ask them of ourselves. But I wonder if they are coming from an unnamed source as she goes out “among the thorns” and wild roses or touches “the faces of the daisies?”

The poems of Mary Oliver, David Whyte, Rainer Maria Rilke and others were inspiration for the last six-week Writing Life women’s writing circle with the theme of “Living the Questions”.

One of the poems I began the “Living the Questions” circle with was “What to Remember When Waking” in which poet David Whyte asks:

What shape
waits in the seed
of you to grow
and spread
its branches
against a future sky?

Is it waiting
in the fertile sea?
In the trees
beyond the house?
In the life
you can imagine
for yourself?
In the open
and lovely
white page
on the waiting desk?

At a day-long program with David Whyte at Royal Roads University in Victoria a few years ago with the title of that particular poem as a theme, he asked the full room of participants: “What is the most beautiful and courageous question you can ask yourself right now?”

My question to myself at that time was: “What if I did nothing?” That’s a courageous question I’d say. Rather than another decision, another plan, what if I simply stopped and did nothing? As it turned out, I did […]

The Gifts of Downtime

In the New Moon Circle recently as well as in the Writing Life Circle, we had a look at the different emotional and mental phases a writer goes through. I had read Laraine Herring’s On Being Stuck: Tapping into the Creative Power of Writer’s Block in which she describes her own stages as a continuum that “applies both to the project you’re working on and to your development as a writer.”

My path begins with an idea, a pink bud on the rhododendron, excitement, promise. I think:  “This is brilliant.” I’m enthused. That’s how projects begin and I think back to my childhood beginnings when my playing in the garden was about creating but not about producing or publishing.

Enthusiasm keeps me going, the rhodo in a blaze of pink. I’m grateful for the burst of colour and my own creative flame.

At some point along the way, my energy wanes and I think “who cares” about what I’m doing. Do I care about continuing? Sometimes when I know where something is going, I lose interest. I appreciate the surprise and the ongoing learning. The image could be a bouquet of tulips drooped over the side of a vase.

I’ve been exploring that “who cares” stage these days and have surrendered to the rest, the pause. I can stay in this stage and do some listening to myself rather than force something to happen. I can honour and celebrate my every day experiences. And I can appreciate the process itself.

I can write just to feel my fingers moving as Richard Wagamese says in Embers: One Ojibway’s Meditations: Sometimes you write just to feel your fingers moving. Sometimes all you need is the physical testament of the process that […]

Advice for a Poet

If you’ve ever written on a theme or following a prompt for ten minutes or so you may have realized that your internal editor doesn’t have a chance to jump in. You just go for it as you don’t have much time to ponder and critique as you tap into your own wisdom. And perhaps there are guides who come to assist in those “tapping-into” moments as well.

We write short poems at poetry retreats I’ve gone to for years while we sit in the morning circle together. In November 2016, at a retreat with poet Lorna Crozier at Honeymoon Bay Lodge, her prompt to us was “Advice for a Poet.” I wanted to share a few of the pieces that emerged one morning. (The poets’ bios are at the end of the blog.)

My friend and fellow poet Liz McNally starts us off with her “Advice for a Poet.” Liz organizes the Patrick Lane and Lorna Crozier retreats, gathering the poets, arranging for our accommodation and meals and so many other details so that our time at Honeymoon Bay Lodge goes smoothly and the time is dedicated for poet muses to conspire.

 

 

 

 

You must be willing to look as Annie did
at Pilgrim Creek; that close, that attentive,
near enough to suspend the belief you knew anything,
the moment before you knelt down.
Leave your own eyes aside,
look through the kaleidoscope of a five-eyed house fly,
land that lightly on the familiar, the unseen, the holy.
Dip one – no, all your fingers,
into the wound you thought was healed, yours and the whole world’s.

-Liz McNally

Here’s “Advice for a Poet” from another poet friend, Tina Biello, who lives in Nanoose Bay and hosts poetry retreats at her home called […]

In the Pink

We’ve had a beautiful painting hanging in our front hall for a few months now. My friend Birdie visited from Ontario in October and her gift to us was one of her encaustic paintings called “In the Pink.” I’m always pleased to have another piece of art from Birdie and the title of this new piece was perfect. I remembered the many months last year of “thinking pink” for the skin graft on my leg to heal. And now it’s not quite ready for a swimming pool but it’s looking healthily pink.

Birdie who is artist Andrea Bird (www.andreabird.com), was definitely “in the pink” when I saw her as she had taken on an adventure coming to B.C., exploring various locales she’d never seen before. It was good to talk to her about the cancer “journey” we each had at different times and how we felt changed by the experience.

We both acknowledged there was a different and very special sort of intimacy with our partners and how we fell in love with them all over again. Those are among the very special and unexpected blessings.

Birdie and I agreed, we are also aware of anniversaries such as the date of diagnosis, the first day of treatment, the last day of treatment, the day of surgery.

January 5th was the anniversary of my surgery at Vancouver General Hospital and I wrote to Dr. Paul Clarkson, Orthopaedic Surgeon, Musculoskeletal Oncology Service at the BC Cancer Agency, to thank him.

I haven’t seen him since that date as it was a member of his team visiting me each day at VGH. And as I went to Vancouver ten times to see Dr. Mark Hill, the plastic surgeon, I wasn’t up to […]

The Now of This Season

I’ve been looking at an excerpt from Letters to a Young Poet that my friend Birdie sent. Rainer Maria Rilke talks of sadness and I have been feeling sadness as part of a listlessness, a sort of ho-hum state, all through the fall.

Having a visit from my friend Birdie in October lifted my spirits and thinking about writing circles for the new year did as well. It didn’t feel like the time to think ahead though and I’m glad I reread one of my favourite passages in Patrick Lane’s memoir, There is a Season.

Go into the garden and learn the world that surrounds you. Look at how you’ve placed a stone. Now the trees and shrubs are bare you can more easily see how they harmonize with the garden. Imagine. Let the images in your mind be companions to your practice. Don’t think of the coming year and what it will bring, rather settle into the now of this season. Rest, reflect, prepare. Listen. There is a story the earth has to tell you.

Rather than skip ahead to make future plans, I took Patrick’s advice to rest in the now of this season. I wrote a poem called “Samhain” which is the winter quarter of the year, a time for restoration and renewal.

Samhain

Basil in its pot, water-logged and limp.
Japanese maple, two leaves, trembling.
A small vase, blue, forgotten against the railing.

Both deck tables turned upside down
before the storm, their legs like those of women
whose skirts have whisked up around their heads.

Out of bed, reluctantly, you write dreams
from the dark, through the window
arbutus leaning into the rain, the leaden fog.
Mountains, mere shadows.

A season of rest.
And isn’t that what […]

Writing in the World

I haven’t sent much of my writing out in the last year or so, except for this blog and some book reviews – oh, and an entry to that poetry chapbook contest – but I was still very interested to see Jeff Herman’s Guide to Book Publishers, Editors & Literary Agents recently published by New World Library. (I do have plans for 2017!)

I believe in listening to your own story first by reflecting, writing and developing your own spiritual practice. Writing Home: A Whole Life Practice is what I offer others to follow while I help hold that creative space for them. As I describe it: Unfold your personal story, envelop yourself with your own wisdom, live your life from that heart-deepening place.

Moving from solitude to writing in a circle is a way to find other pilgrims along the writing journey. And then, as one’s voice emerges and confidence develops, it’s time to put one’s writing into the world. We put an end to silence. We move the story into action as one of my mentors, Christina Baldwin, has said.

Jeff Herman opened his literary agency in the mid-1980s and has made nearly 1,000 book deals. The Jeff Herman Agency, LLC is in Stockbridge, Massachusetts.

I appreciate the large print of the Guide to Book Publishers which makes it a welcoming resource and the language is conversational and accessible. A few of the articles in the “Advice for Writers” section immediately caught my eye.

One of them, “When Nothing Happens to Good (or Bad) Writers” is also known as “Ignored Writer Syndrome (IWS).” Receiving a “rejection letter” means you’re “in the game” as one writer told me years ago. The non-response though, is hard to take. If you’ve […]

Gifts from the Journey

 

“We are searching for the core of our lives; our culture intuits that writing, that ancient activity, might be a pathway.” And indeed, Natalie Goldberg’s many students have found it be so – as we have in the Writing Life women’s writing circles.

The theme of one of the two six-week writing circles I offered in the fall was Gifts from the Journey. My intent was that in the stillness of the circle, we would honour our influences along the way: the people (teachers, friends, ancestors); the places we’ve lived and visited; the many experiences we’ve lived and thereby honour ourselves. And I wanted to make sure our writing about the past was done from being grounded in the present.

There were various gifts along the way as we supported the telling of one another’s stories. And there were epiphanies and insights about the writing process itself. Those insights, I pointed out to the women, are good to make note of.

After ringing the Tibetan ting sha and asking members of the writing circle to take three deep breaths, I read a poem. This is the same practice every week. In week one I read a poem called “Remember” by Joy Harjo.

“Remember the sky that you were born under, / know each of the star’s stories,” the poem begins. Some of the writing we did in that circle was inspired by the poem. We began to write “I remember. . . “

I remember the winter of 2016 as being a sort of blur of being mostly bedridden, of the effort it took to get up and down the two front steps.

I remember being in a wheelchair while on the ferry and feeling protected as Sarah pushed […]

The Wisdom of the Circle

“There is nothing so wise as a circle,” Rainer Maria Rilke said and I have found that to be true of people gathering in a circle, facing one another. (My partner Sarah finds wisdom in drawing and painting sacred circles as mandalas.)

In the circle, we learn to listen. We learn to be heard. We put our dreams into words and get in touch with them again. We tap into what my friend Judith Rosenberg calls our spark of brilliance.

Writing has always helped me to clarify where I am, reflect on where I’ve been, formulate my intent for today, this week, my life. Writing in community in a circle offers a supportive container where each one of us is a leader.

When I began learning about ancient cultures such as those of Crete and Anatolia (Turkey), it was the ceremony in community that interested me. The celebrations of life passages, the changing seasons, the every day.

Wherever our ancestors lived, they would have gathered around a fire to honour the seasons, rites of passage, one another. I follow guidelines in the writing circles I offer, learned from Christina Baldwin who wrote Calling the Circle: The First and Future Culture. She and Ann Linnea also wrote The Circle Way: A Leader in Every Chair.

The guidelines and their intentions offer structure in the circle. As Christina has said: “We cannot follow the story if it loses its narrative thread; we cannot hold the space if it has not been laid down with intention.”

If you visit www.thecircleway.net, you can link to “the process” and from there to the guidelines I’ve been following since 1997 when I started offering women’s writing circles in my Toronto living room.

I have seen women in the circle […]

Dropping the Struggle

My word for this year has been “WANDER” and while I haven’t been physically wandering as I did last year at this time, I have let my mind wander. I let it wander through books by Olivia Laing including To the River: A Journey Beneath the Surface and her latest, The Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone.

And my mind wandered as I prepared for the summer writing circles I called “An Invitation to Writing Life.” I appreciated exploring ideas, picking up books I hadn’t visited in awhile and sitting in the circle of women to explore and uncover together.

Sometimes though, the wandering became a more compulsive attachment to doing, accomplishing, adding just one more thing. That’s possibly why I was attracted to Roger Housden’s new book: Dropping the Struggle: Seven Ways to Love the Life You have (New World Library, 2016).

I’ve been a fan of Roger’s “Ten Poem” series. His essays about particular poems offer new insight and he tells his own life stories in relation to them. I appreciated a taste of many poets in his book, Dancing with Joy.

In Ten Poems to Change Your Life (Harmony Books, 2001), Roger wrote an essay about “Love After Love,” a poem by Derek Walcott. Roger said: “We spend much of our lives trying to make ourselves – to create the life we want, to forge some reality from our dreams. We live in a culture wedded to the fantasy of self-determination and self-made men. Yet there is another school of thought that looks at a human life from the other direction. Instead of making ourselves, this more ancient tradition would say we ourselves are there in embryo from the start, and we unfurl […]