Poetry Friday: A Morning Poem

Happy Poetry Friday.....on Saturday in the wee hours.

I was out late with lady friends and am just now getting home, with an insistent poem forming on the tip of my tongue. So, here I am. Happy Weekend! Happy Poetry!

Poetry Friday is a group of poem sharers and authors who take turns making a giant leaf pile of verse to jump into with your warm coffee mug on Saturday or Sunday morning. Everyone pitches in poems that they love or poems they have written and someone takes a turn hosting the list of collected links and together we make a beautiful, literary village. I love the inspiration of being "around" other creators, I love the accountability of a place to share my stuff and a scheduled time for having something ready, I love also love the interest there is in reading through all these ideas and styles and eras of writing. I've read poems in this group which have left me dumb and deeply moved and poems that have made me laugh out loud. I sometimes share the ones for children with my boys and I often bookmark some to come back to or send them off to someone I think will enjoy that particular piece.

Have a gander....its a lovely kind of festival to wander through. This week our host is Brenda Davis Harsham who writes at Friendly Fairy Tales.

Morning Lark

She drooped over her water glass
On the bar between us.
9 o'clock was a limit.
It was pointless to sit awake on
Dark winter nights, cotton-headed
And dull, when there was only t.v.
To be conscious for.
9 o'clock was the end.
She'd rather be up at crisp o'clock
The world glittering at her feet
The cotton of the night before
Lifting off into the pale, clear sky.
There would be hot coffee
Running in holy rivulets off her desk
And a To Do List of sparkling assignments
Snapping at her saucily,
Her bright feet high-stepping
The jig between laundry and kitchen
No drooping in sight.

What's Fueling My Fire....

           Its great to share ideas and to inspire each other with both the thoughts and growth we are experiencing but also with the raw idea of BEING inspired. We should be looking around us for stuff that makes us feel astonished and amazed and full of answers and energy. Please, allow me to go first....
Here's a little peek into my resource room at the moment. These are things in my world that are filling my tank, pushing my edge, giving me ideas and handing out delicious mental gymnastics:

• Magic Lessons podcasts by Elizabeth Gilbert. Every episode makes me want to create, NOW. 
• The movie, Seed: The Untold Story. Saw it on the big screen and my jaw was on the floor.
• The Standing Rock Protest
•  Victor Frankl's book, Man's Search For Meaning.
• The biography of the Cheaper By The Dozen parents, Frank and Lillian Gilbreth, Partners For Life. So well written (yay biographer!) and so unknown (yay for Lillian, one of my heroines!)
• Piano lessons with my three oldest kids...I'm working them through their lessons every day which means I am suddenly, accidentally playing the piano
• This astonishing info-graphic. 
• Women Who Run With Wolves, I just got this two nights ago and its knocking me back on my heels. I'm underlining every other page.
• The incredible music of Yonina....their vids can leave me high all day.
• This Avett Brothers song. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Ever more, since the election. I will always be grateful to Alicia from Posie Gets Cozy for introducing me to the bros. 
• The mind boggling, Understanding Your Child As A Spiritual Gift, believe it or not, written by a friend of mine.

Autumn, Right Here.

I have in my mind this brilliant idea for an art project/home decoration/science creation. I want to make a large, watercolor wheel of seasons that will go on my wall....but instead of the traditional seasonal markers I will fill it all out with the wild things that make up the seasons here in Northern California. I have fallen in an Alice In Wonderland  world full of topsy turvy references which are vaguely familiar but all seem a bit jumbled, stirred with a hearty dose of unusual occurrences that I have never experienced. Its a new outdoors, a new science and a new sense of place. I am wildly curious and astonished and excited and aghast that I still hear, EVERYWHERE from cynical locals, "Bummer about not having seasons anymore now that you moved here, eh?" Seasons are everywhere. Traditional is only some places.

For instance, here are some of the things which will go in my Autumn slice of the wheel:

Autumn In NoCal Means.....

• Monarch butterflies drifting through traffic
• Blush of color on the sweet gum, pepper, ginko and crepe myrtle trees.
• Ripe persimmons in my garden
• Figs area ready to eat in every corner lot
• Wild mushroom hunting time in the hills!
• Twilight mating season walks for tarantulas
• Planting the winter veggie garden
• Monsoon season begins
• The prickly pear cactus fruits
• Crab fishing season! 
• Meteor shower time, head to the hills for spectacular shows
• Waterfalls re-appear...time for all the hikes along rivers.
• Napa is hung with astounding grapes of all varieties and colors
• Gold Rush Days in Sacramento (we'll make it next year!)
• Dia De Los Muertos celebrations throughout the area
• Olive harvest and oil pressing
• Elk mating season
• Bird migrations....some are spectacular (wild cranes for instance)

Did I miss any? Let me know your favorite things about Autumn in The Bay. I wanna notice all the stuff.

Woman-ing Up For The Challenge

I have been all adrift lately. I have let the laundry get rather out of hand, the man I never thought would be elected was, I lost some sleep, I ate junk that I know poisons me and spent far too much time sitting, I skipped hiking and I fussed a lot about feeling lonely and not being sure I fit in at our church. I went down low. And then, because I am a woman, with capacity to create life and an indomitable spirit, because I can actually handle all of those things, because life is so much grander and deeper and richer than the man who was elected or the laundry....I dug in and looked for reasons to come back up.

The world is insanely beautiful. I believe in the human spirit, the rich spirit of each and every person....of Donald Trump.....of each voter....of working people in The Heartland and wild liberals in The Bay. I think that we become that which we brood over because we are walking prophecies, and I am determined to tell a good story over myself. I think we live in the luckiest time that's ever been historically. I think humility and compassion makes the world so much better than bitterness and overwhelm ever will. I think there is far more deception in politics and media than there is truth, even though each of us wants to be known desperately....even politicians.  I think that fear compacted instead of expressed, recognized and released becomes anger which becomes bitterness which is the great poison of mankind.

I saw a movie tonight, all about Big Ag and seed saving and the incredible power of life that is in all living plants. It was overwhelming and shocking and scary but they wound the conclusion deftly into a hopeful, Everyman's battle that made each home gardener, each heritage seed catalog customer, each lover of nature into a piece of the massive, powerful solution. I love that hopeful ending. I know I am only one woman and only a housewife who frequently feels the cultural weight of dismissal and unimpressed pity because I haven't got titles or jobs or resumes or degrees or any other grand things at all. I have an audacious sense of entitlement for a small town, female nothing. I feel a sacred part of what makes the world work, I feel insurmountable in the face of trouble, I feel charged to be a healer of the sick and broken things, I feel strong, I feel unwilling to back down, I feel able to flex and bend and survive because I am a woman who knows compassion and nurturing and hears the small, pouting child in everyone who just needs love. I feel able to create and draw power from nowhere, and I would rather create than wither.

I am caught between worlds right now. I voted one way, my man voted differently, my parents and siblings are on different shores, my hometown is a world away from this place I live now. I don't belong anywhere. I have my own opinions of course, but no matter what I decide, I know too much AND too little to fit in with any camp. I am some kind of  odd, cultural orphan without a social "home." I can let that unsettle me and make me feel damned if I do and damned if I don't. I can make it feel lonely and hopeless and impossible. I can let it sever my from people and places I love, from things I once thought or even from things I still think....from pieces of who I really am. I let it turn into apathy, immobility and lethargy with a jaded glaze over my eyes. I could let it make me pissed, full of vitriolic poison for all the things I don't understand or things I understand too well. But, I much prefer my eventual path. I think I'm super lucky to be hung in mid-air, in the very messy middle of it all. I can choose compassion and knowledge and hope and connection to all my scattered bits of self and reach and arm across the circle to the people that I love on each side of the divide and be a human conductor of kindness and love when they can not bear to touch each other. I hope that my discomfort will motivate me to keep working for belonging for everyone and if that's what a little awkwardness does its worth it. That's the way I want to live, so may God keep me uncomfortable and able to tap into my own displacement for a good long time.