A Trail of Thought

I’m going through my things as I’m moving and I ran across an old journal. I have a tendency to stick odd pieces of paper and keepsakes in them. In this one I found something long forgotten, that once again took my breath away. I found this poem written by my son.

Mother

The sound of your voice,

The light of your smile,

These are the things,

That make life worthwhile.

The touch of your hand,

The warmth of your cheer,

These are the treasures

I count most dear.

The soul of your goodness,

The heart of your worth,

I wouldn’t give these

For half of the earth.

I also found a news paper article dated March 21, 1999. The headline reads:

Twenty students to attend writing festival.

The Klamath County School District will send 20 students to the 15th annual state writing festival, a day-long writing conference, at Portland State University in Portland on May 1.

Students with outstanding writing ability in grades 1-12 from throughout Oregon will attend.

 

My son was one of the twenty students invited to attend the writing conference. Here a mere seven years later, thousands of students from around the world can participate in writing conferences thanks to the internet and the advent of blogging.

The Cosmic Egg and The Murderous Self

The Cosmic Egg and the Murderous Self are two sides of the same coin. It is a coin that I flip daily. Heads, the Cosmic Egg, and my day is filled with my dreams of wondrous possibilities and creative freedom. Tails, the Murderous Self, and my day is full of self doubt and longing. What I discovered, however, is that I control and land of the coin most days. And I always control the attitude I choose to face the day with. For instance I’ve been moving which is something I enjoy as much as I would enjoy having to chew my own arm off. It has to be done, I’m not wealthy enough to pay someone else to do the work for me and I’m so tired at the end of my day. I would have to pay someone to chew for me if I had the energy left to cook. Of course the voice in my head that speaks for the murderous self is loudest.

“What made you think you ever had what it took to follow the creative path?” It whispers.

My tired body answers.

“I have to. If this is all there is to life…this drudgery and pain, I don’t want it. Life isn’t worth living for me without the hope that my creative nee authentic self gives to me.”

“But, I am your authentic self.”

“No, you are my should be. You are the voice of other’s expectations and judgments of worthiness.”

I am worthy no matter what my circumstance. I am worthy no matter what my faults. I am worthy just because I’m me and I have a right to be who I am.

Learning Curve

Today has been a revelation for me. I use to think I was a smart person. I always made good grades in school. I was always one of those students who picked up what ever was being taught the first time around and would read while the teacher was explaining it for the umpteenth time for the ones who were struggling. Now I know what it’s like to struggle to learn something. At first I was beginning to believe I was just stupid…sigh. It has taken me seven months to begin to feel comfortable with my digital camera (note I said beginning). I was starting to give myself a really tough time about my own learning curve when it came to technology, then it dawned on me why my learning curve was so different. In school I had teachers showing me every step of the way what I needed to know and now more often than not I’m on my own with nothing but trial and error to do the teaching. How funny is that? Einstein had trouble in school and was a genius when it came to trial and error. I did well in school and get so frustrated I want to do crazy irrational things when I have to learn by trial and error. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if I was trying to learn the technology just for fun but alas, I need to make some money from all this…so I have no choice but to keep plugging away at it. Any of you techno smarties out there who don’t mind giving a hand to a very slow learner let me know and I will worship at your fountain of knowledge.

Quiet Time

I will be kind of quiet for a couple of weeks. Tomorrow I start moving into a new place. Wow, What a summer this has been for all of us. I started the summer facing homelessness then it looked for a time as if I was going to be able to trade for a small travel trailer to live in. That didn’t work out and just as I was starting to sweat it all again the hand of fate took the reins and I found a room-mate situation. The way that the universe takes over still amazes me sometimes. I would ask that everyone keep good thoughts about the service men and women stationed in Korea right now (as many of you know, my son is one of them). What’s his name in North Korea is starting to act up and play with nuclear toys. I would hate to have to swim over there and kick his ass personally if anything happens to my son! Hang in there Heather we all love you and are sending wave after wave of good thoughts and hugs!! I’ll check in and read from time to time during my move. Looking forward to being settled again and back to posting. Love you guys! Melody

Must Love Dogs

I must love dogs because I have three. I have a male and a female Shih Tzu, my little lap babies. Normally Shih Tzus are yappers by nature but I don’t like yapping so my babies have learned the be quiet in the house and save their yapping for outside. This works for all of us…they get to yap sometimes and I get to have a quiet house. Then there is Hobo. He is of no determinate breed. He’s also the old man of the house. I’ve also taught him the rules of quiet in the house. So I taught him to whisper bark.

Hobo came into my life by way of the streets. Someone put him out on the street to fend for himself. He was doing a good job of it when I came along, as a matter of fact he was doing too good a job as my neighbors were getting ready to call animal control to keep him out of their garbage. I told them I would take him so Hobo came to live with me and my three teenage children. One of the first things I taught him in conjunction with house training was to come to me and whisper bark when he needed to go out. This routine turned into a blessing.

I began to whisper back to Hobo when he would come and “talk” to me. For some reason known only to God my children came to believe that Hobo and I could really talk to each other. This became quite an advantage. You see, I was a single Mom and I was out numbered. I was also at work a great deal of the time. I worried about the kinds of things my kids might get into…drugs, sex, mayhem! When I would come home at night I always made it a point to try to connect with my kids and find out about their day. Like most kids, if they had been up to something they were not always forth coming about it. So I also made it a habit to check in with Hobo. I would say.

“What have the kids been doing, precious?”

Hobo would immediately start whisper barking like he had much to say. I would then say.

“Really, they did what!”

Hobo would then pick up the pace of his conversation and start giving the kids sideways glances.

The cute thing is…it worked. Which ever one of them had been misbehaving would start to squirm and before the conversation had gone on for very long the culprit would usually say.

“Shut up, Hobo, you tattle tale.”

I would look at the guilt on my child’s face and say.

“You want to tell me your side of the story?”

It still makes me smile when I think about it now. Hobo helped me get those kids through the teenage years without them dropping out of school, getting strung out on drugs, or unplanned pregnancies. They are all over the age of twenty one and leading responsible lives. And Hobo? Well he’s laying by my feet the old man of the house.

“Writing Personal Essays” by Shelia Bender

“Writing Personal Essays:

How to Shape Your Life

Experiences for the Page”

by Shelia Bender

I loved this book. Unlike many of you I never got beyond English Comp at a junior college so this little book is a god send to me. I think what I loved most about it was the way she organized the process of writing the personal essay. I also learned from her “three-step response” to a work in progress. I have used this book to start a writing process that is not only enjoyable but rewarding.

The Three-step Response

To help the writer understand what kind of contact his or her writing makes, my responsibility as a reader of the work is to:

1. report the images and phrases that stick with me

2. monitor the feelings that occur inside me as I read, and report these feelings accurately

3. tell the writer where I want to know more

“The Poisonwood Bible “by Barbara Kingsolver

“The Poisonwood Bible”

by Barbara Kingsolver

Barbara Kingsolver has with masterful skill brought forth an epic novel. “The Poisonwood Bible” is for me a moving tale of human kindness and cruelty. It speaks not only to the ravages of war but also to the ravages of a war fought within the heart.

I found a very personal place in this novel of great proportion. Even though the story is set in the African Congo of the fifties it mirrored in many ways my life in Mississippi in the sixties. I grew up during desegregation. I remember the “Whites Only” signs. I remember the hangings and turmoil. And I remember the battles in my own home. Ms Kingsolvers ability to capture the impact of the war (the larger war as well as the one being fought inside each of her characters) is amazing.

Don’t wake me up in the morning

Don’t Wake Me Up In The Morning

Don’t wake me up in the morning,

I have my own schedule to keep.

Don’t wake me up in the morning,

I cannot follow like sheep.

The hours are mine now to keep,

I’ve given sleep for my children,

I’ve given my hours to others,

I’ve done what was expected.

Don’t wake me up in the morning,

The sunrise is beautiful I know.

Don’t wake me up in the morning,

Last night I danced with the stars.

I gave time doing things for others,

While my soul cried out for expression.

I’ve cooked and cleaned and other things,

Now I write and sing and do creative things.

Don’t wake me up in the morning,

I have my own schedule to keep.

Don’t wake me up in the morning,

I cannot follow like sheep.

“Twelve Sharp” by Janet Evanovich

Twelve Sharp

by Janet Evanovich

“Twelve Sharp,” as the title suggests is the 12th in the series of Stephanie Plum novels. Ms Evanovich is right on as always. I’ve heard it said that the good ones make it look easy. I don’t think easy is the word I would use. I think the good ones make it look fluid. Janet Evanovich is one of the good ones.

I fell in love with her protagonist in “One For The Money,” and I have laughed until my sides hurt ever since. I love the way Ms Evanovich imbues her novels with humor. Stephanie Plum the ex clothing store buyer turned bounty hunter is an excellent read.

On Writing by Stephen King

On Writing, a Memoir Of The Craft

by Stephen King

Stephen King is a prolific author and one whom I was anxious to know more about. This wonderful book is part autobiography and part writing lesson, Mr King proclaims it “…a kind of curriculum viate-my attempt to show how one writer was formed.”

As I read this book in turn I laugh and I cry. And I always learn something. I have read this book more than a half dozen times and each time it is as delightful as the first. I use to tell my children to never be afraid to seek advice but to think about the person from whom they were seeking the advice. The example I use to give them was if you want to know about business go to the successful business owner not someone standing in the unemployment line. If you want to understand money talk to a banker not someone standing in the welfare line. If you want to understand writing and how one writer was formed read this book. Mr King definitely has the curriculum viate.