Verbiage

Women, Poetry and Winter

2011-12-08T21:51:00.003-05:00

Sorry for the lack of updates, but I've been working very hard the last few months on some new pieces of fiction.

I do have a little tidbit to share: an article of mine is appearing in the forthcoming title
Women on Poetry: Writing, Revising, Publishing and Teaching, edited by Carol Smallwood, Colleen S. Harris and Cynthia Brackett-Vincent, soon to be published by McFarland. I'm not sure when the book is set to be released, but you can get more information at:
http://www.mcfarlandpub.com/book-2.php?id=978-0-7864-6392-3.
The book is also available for pre-order at Amazon.com.

I also had two poems appear in lifeblood, the anthology of the Woodstock Poetry Society published by Chickaree Press. It's a lovely collection that Trina Porte has done a wonderful job editing and putting together. And there's a copy on display at Poets' House if anyone in the NYC area wants to take a peek!

I can hardly believe it's December already. Up until today (with the exception of the freak snowstorm we experienced Halloween weekend) it's been unusually warm here in New England and I'm really not ready to brace winter weather.

Whichever winter holiday you celebrate, I wish you a season filled with much love, joy, warmth and peace, and all of the best for 2012!

More Relaxing and Releasing...

2011-07-31T08:56:00.001-04:00

Here's a really practical guide to releasing that I found on a blog called Zen Habits that I thought I would share in light of my last entry. It was a guest post from Lori Deschene of Tiny Buddha called "Letting Go of Attachment, from A to Zen." As Deschene states, it's not easy to let go of attachment. It's something you just need to practice with yourself each day in a conscious and gentle way.

Relaxing...

2011-07-18T18:36:00.022-04:00

Ah, summer! Lazy days at the beach, lemonade, barbeques… life seems a bit more relaxed at this time of the year—or if it doesn't, then it should be!

My husband was telling me about a recent bus accident in Niagara Falls that killed two women. Knowing how much of a worry wort I tend to be, he gently reminded me that I shouldn’t worry about things because, as he put it, “one minute you’re in a bus going up to Niagara Falls and then…”

And then. Then everything changes. It’s the one lesson in life with which I’ve struggled most. I’ve always resisted impermanence. I’ve always feared loss of all kinds. I suppose I’m not alone in this; I’m sure almost everyone on the planet experiences a form of this same fear and resistance, but it’s a theme that revisits me often. And sometimes, just when I think I’ve gotten close to embracing impermanence…boom! I resist it again in some other form! I'll have managed to let go of X and Y, but I’ll still be having a hard time letting go of Z.

While I know I should just go with the flow, I still tend to flail my arms wildly against the current. I’m very thick headed! I suppose phrases such as “So what?” and “Aw, who gives a _____” (in response, that is, to the anxiety-driven question “What if?”) should become my mantras. Maybe if I repeat them enough to myself over time, I might be able to fully embrace impermanence. It might take awhile, but why not start today?

Actually, I did start the weekend before last. After joining the stage in the Woodstock Poetry Festival reading at the Colony Café in Woodstock, NY, I managed to sneak away the next morning for a half-day visit to Zen Mountain Monastery in Mount Tremper. What a wonderful retreat it was! I first participated in the opening liturgy before receiving training in zazen (a form of Zen meditation which literally translates into “seated meditation”) including mudras, postures and techniques. Following this training I practiced zazen for an entire half hour in silence and stillness. What an amazing experience! I actually did undergo—for perhaps the first time in my life—moments in which I was truly nothing more than my breath, where I let go of all judgmental thinking and let images, words, ideas and thoughts pass by without getting caught up in them, and ultimately attained nonthinking. It was an indescribable feeling just being with myself, with my eyes half-open and half-shut. It sounds so simple, right? Trust me, nonthinking is a state that is very hard to maintain when you hear a car drive by or someone in the zendo receives the kyōsaku or your foot or bottom fall asleep in Burmese position or you notice the subtle tonal nuances of the mat in front of yours. Such observations trigger thoughts in your mind, in which case you need to gently release those thoughts and start all over again. Let go in order to start fresh. It was challenging but I rose to the occasion!

After zazen, I listened to the dharma talk that followed. I left the Monastery that day with a tremendous sense of peace, while also understanding myself and the thoughts that occupy my mind a bit more. I began to uncover more of myself—both permanent and impermanent, which resists and releases—and I was gentle with myself the whole while. I am extremely grateful to the monastics and students of the Monastery for opening their doors to me and to other members of the public who are welcomed each Sunday morning. I have learned a great deal from their wisdom and practices. I came home lighter yet wealthier in mind, heart and spirit, ready to integrate some of what I learned into my own spiritual practices.

So the next time I find myself resisting (a phenomenon in which anxiety is greatly rooted), I will remember to follow it up by releasing, allowing myself to just relax and be.

Melting the Ice

2011-04-03T10:02:00.001-04:00

Guess whose flash appears as today's featured story in WEIRDYEAR? (No worries. If you're reading this past April 3rd, you can still read "Melting the Ice" in the archives. Simply search by date or by author name.)

That this story is making its debut when the trees are budding seems fitting. Spring is a time when the ice of winter blues melt away along with the literal ice of wintry weather. (As you probably know, New England and its neighbors had been hit harshly this year with blizzard on top of blizzard, so the greens shooting up from the earth are particularly welcome this springtime.) Life is renewed.

Here's wishing you all the best for Spring!

Happy 2011!

2011-01-06T18:03:00.003-05:00

Hello! I know, I know...it's about time I got my bum into gear and posted something, isn't it?! I apologize for my lack of entries since August. A lot has been brewing and continues to, so this will be a very brief update.

"Holy/Wholly" can be found on page 18 of the January/February 2011 issue of Art Times (in the "Poet's Niche" section). Simply visit http://www.arttimesjournal.com/ and click the icon in the upper left-hand corner to download the PDF file of the issue. This was a fun poem to write, particularly because it arose from a prompt at the New York Writers' Coalition Annual Write-A-Thon where I had to use the words "ginger snap," "TV evangelist" and "license plate"!

The New York Writers Coalition is one of the largest community writing organizations in the country and provides free creative writing workshops throughout NYC for people who have been historically deprived of voice in our society including at-risk and disconnected youth, the homeless and formerly homeless, the incarcerated and formerly incarcerated, war veterans, people with disabilities, cancer and major illness, immigrants, seniors and others. Each year the NYWC hosts a Write-A-Thon to raise funds to support its mission. Each participating writer gets sponsored by his and her donors and donations pledged. I've been fortunate to participate in this all-day event for the past couple of years and it's a great way to dedicate an entire day to writing, network with other writers within the NY metropolitan area, benefit from prompts and workshops throughout the day, and help the NYWC in its mission to create opportunities for formerly voiceless members of society to be heard through the art of writing. Please consider supporting the NYWC's efforts and visit http://www.nywriterscoalition.org/ to learn more about and support this wonderful organization.

I've got an article scheduled to appear in a how-to book for women poets, so more on that will be forthcoming. There are other goodies in the works too...

But for now I will sign off and send my best wishes for a happy and healthy new year!

Shells, Turtles and Bears...Oh, My!

2010-08-12T21:07:00.022-04:00

If you're on Facebook, chances are you've come across something called "Likey," a web site/interface that works similarly to when you "Like" a Facebook page, except this time you're "liking" a statement that an anonymous person has posted. A lot of the statements I've come across have been very off-color (to say the least). Others have been quite touching. For instance, I came across one that went something to the effect of "the one who seems the strongest is sometimes the one in most need of a hug."

I remember times of crisis in my life (and there's been a few) when I had to swallow up what I was feeling inside and project something else when all I really had wanted was to open up, or receive a hug, or be reassured that everything would be okay in X,Y or Z situation. Then I'd break down on my own, in the quiet moments when no one was watching or listening. I'd follow up by stifling those little breakdowns, thinking I had to be "strong" for myself.

We're taught so much by our culture that we need to be hard asses because that's what will get us up the ladder, deter those who wish to take advantage of us from doing so, and keep us from being rejected or our hearts from being broken again or our dreams shattered. We think we'll get by or ahead by keeping others fooled with a kind of armor, a facade of impenetrability. We often start duping ourselves into believing that we are invulnerable. We're kind of like turtles—hard on the outside and pulling back the softer elements of ourselves when we come into contact with external stimuli.

There are moments when protection is necessary. But there's a difference between when armor is required and when it becomes an unhealthy habit. When strapping on emotional artillery and defenses becomes unnecessarily recursive, it grows damaging. As we try to fool others into thinking we are impenetrable or when we hide how we really feel about something, we are denying a vital part of ourselves. Actually, we lose that part. We lose touch with our true nature. We shut down—to our own selves just as much as we do to others. We forget who we are. We forget our humanity. That's why I like (excuse the pun) this statement I came across about the one with the "strong" exterior needing the hug, because we forget (if we've done it long enough) the reason why we've put on this hard shell in the first place. We've pushed that reason aside, buried it, locked it in a fire-proof drawer and tossed away the key. We forget that our shell wasn't always there. We weren't born with it. We were born soft, but the world wounded that spongy core—that soul, that vital energy—and in some cases made so many pieces of it scatter that we walk retracted inside a nearly hollow shell of ourselves. Where's the joy in that?

So why not call our scattered pieces back and meld them together? Why not break open that shell that has kept the real core Self hidden just as much from our own selves as from others? Why not put our arms around ourselves and get back in touch with what's really inside? Let's heal ourselves from within, retreating deeply inwards like bears in hibernation, and get really good and intimate with our true essence. And when we've finished going inside and have restored that Self, why not try to reach out to others? We might then be able to heal each other, extending light and opening up our petals in its glow. We can't receive a hug from others and feel the petals of their warm embraces if we close our Self off, and we can't connect with others if we don't connect with our Self first.

I'm not suggesting that there aren't people we need to be watchful of, or that there aren't people who can and will do us harm and that we shouldn't protect ourselves. A healthy dose of skepticism is good. So is giving others the benefit of the doubt as not every person or situation is an enemy. The key is balancing healthy skepticism with healthy openness to the people and experiences that come into our lives. Let us again look to nature.

Every bear has a good nose. It knows exactly when danger is near and when it is not. A mother bear can go out and enjoy the woods and play with and nurse her young (in other words, live her life and connect with the world), and other animals can be in proximity and she can leave them to their business. But she can get fiercely protective of what's hers and stand her ground when a real threat provokes her. She is able to respond in the right context because she trusts her nose.

We, too, are able to respond to situations in ways that meet our best interests if we know how to listen to Self and trust our own noses and intuitions. And if the voice inside is urging us to speak a truth, why hold back? Sure it might be risky. We might risk the image we've worked so hard to build. But life itself is a risk. It's a much stronger action to speak a truth than it is to hold it in. It's much more liberating to do what is in one's Self than to shut it up inside the hollowness of a shell. Risk living a life that reflects your true nature.

Hug yourself today, dear reader, because in order for the world out there to heal, we must first heal ourselves from within—therein lies true strength. Live life like a bear, not a turtle!

Summer Goings On

2010-08-08T20:40:00.008-04:00

Sorry it's been awhile. Recovery from a medical issue had me retreating inward during most of July. Fortunately, I am doing much better and am back, especially after a relaxing retreat in and around Woodstock, NY, my home away from home. I had a great time at Phoenicia Phirst Phriday. Thanks to the kind folks there who let me provide some non-musical entertainment. They've got some really talented musicians there, and there's something about being in an art gallery that lends an extra boost of creative energy and good vibes.

My web site is now officially launched. You can find it at http://www.jenniferahudson.com/. The site is still in progress, but many pages are loaded and running already. Check it out! (This blog will continue to run, so be sure to keep bookmarks on both places!)

Aside from that, I'm looking forward to participating in the Stratford Arts Guild Outdoor Art Show this weekend, August 12-15, as part of Festival Stratford!

I may not be getting much rest this month, but it's great to keep going on doing the things I love with people I enjoy.

Bloom where you are planted...

2010-06-11T15:04:00.047-04:00

As I’ve been tending my backyard with mulching and gardening while we head into summer, I’ve been thinking a lot about roots—not just those of the plants, shrubs and flowers that stretch their veins deep into the ground, but of my own ancestral roots.

A visit to northern New Hampshire last summer, where I met some of my cousins for the very first time, prompted me to delve into the history of part of my maternal ancestry, the Theriaults. I never knew my grandmother, Edna, in person; she had passed away before I was born. But I’ve always felt a very strong connection to her spirit. One of eight children, she was born in 1909 to Isaie and Philomene Landry Theriault in Grande-Anse, New Brunswick, Canada. Her father, Isaie, was a farmer (that's my great grandparents' farmhouse in Grande-Anse to the left in the black-and-white photo), and the family had come down to live and work in the United States (sometime around 1912) where they settled in northern New Hampshire. My grandmother and my aunt would later move during the 1940s industrial boom down to Bridgeport, Connecticut, where my mother was born and raised (and, in the late 1970s, I was born and raised too). I’ve never ceased to be amazed through the years at how many of my grandmother’s traits are in my mom, in me and in other relatives based on the stories I’ve heard from my parents, cousins, and neighbors and friends who knew her. And then when I met more of my cousins last summer, there was one in particular with whom I bonded straight away in an uncanny sort of way—we were so alike in so many ways, not only in terms of interests, but even in mannerisms and personality. I began thinking, then, that while some traits develop through life experience and an eternal spirit, there are others encoded in DNA just waiting to get activated.

I don't mean to leave out my other maternal line or paternal lines from this discussion, it’s just that the Theriault line is the one I feel most connected to, probably because those are the relatives I know and see, and maybe also because it's the only ancestral line I have a long and clear record of, a comprehensive “tree,” that can be traced far back—not just to Acadia but all the way back to the end of the 16th century in France, beginning with Jehan Terriot (b. 1601) in Martaizé, Poitou.

As I garden I think of how Jehan’s love of the land and nature is in my blood. He too, so the stories go, loved gardening (a jardinier besides fermer). And there are other things I’ve inherited too: my cousin’s adventurousness, my mother’s wit and resilience, my grandmother’s frankness, and general things like hard work, standing up for what’s right and fair, a valuing of honesty, and an overall joie de vivre; this is my Acadian heritage, one of which I am extremely fiere.

Issue 3 of Blinking Cursor (a literary magazine based in the UK) is now available here (either as a PDF file for free or a print copy for purchase). You will find my poem “Prismic Waves” on page 21. You can also find “Judgment (or God is a woman)” and “Prometheus Wired” in the June 2010 issue of Lunarosity. While these poems are fictitious, the emotions they tap into are honest. To me, that is the most important part of writing—the expression of truth. In fact nothing matters more than truth; that is the legacy of my ancestors. Fleurir où tu es planté. I thank my ancestors for their gifts planted in me and hope I will always be a credit to them.

Photo Credits: http://outdoors.webshots.com/photo/1047036231034066776ykFiyp and http://wquercus.com/acadie/poitou.htm.

Spring has sprung!

2010-05-07T22:14:00.012-04:00

Spring is such a magical time of the year—a time when the flora bursts with possibility, the rains rejuvenate, the sun shines with promise and, if you’re an allergy sufferer like me, the pollen has your face swelling and you start to resemble the elephant man—or woman—until doped on antihistamines (in which case you resemble a zombie).

Noctua Review was released today and it was such an honor to see “Perspective” gracing the cover. This marks my visual art debut. I also have more photography appearing in this issue's pages.

I've gotten word that one of my poems will be appearing in issue #3 of Blinking Cursor, due out in June. There's also the NE-SCBWI Conference coming up next week. Lots blooming in the creative sectors!

In the midst of all of these creative flowerings, my awareness of and my connection to the Earth and to Spirit has been deepening through gardening. As I dig into the earth with my trowel and plant (this year another azalea bush along with Siberian irises), I feel the energy in the ground whirring and whirling with the generative force that flows through and guides the universe, and it is then when I realize my true nature. I remember the light. The rainbow bending in the sky after the storm heralds new beginnings and reminds me of the work that calls me. I feel uplifted and empowered, dancing around like a happy child with a wide smile, remembering the ripeness of endless possibilities.

I hope this season of renewal births many new possibilities for you. Thank you for checking in. Until next time…

Nurturing Darkness

2010-02-26T13:17:00.019-05:00

Snow may still be falling, but each time it melts I marvel at the little tiny shoots that are beginning to push their way through the ground like little activists marching for liberation. And then there’s the extra minute of sunlight that each sundown bestows. There’s less minutes of darkness. There's hope: spring is on its way!

Our Western culture has done a sensational job training us to see darkness as inherently evil and deadly. It’s an underworld in that sense—a place of secrets and shadows, a place of taboos, a place of hauntings and things that “go bump in the night,” and, often, a place where painful memories get filed away and hidden underneath a layer of cobwebs. The darkness is a place of fear and we avoid it like the plague.

Winter is, in many areas, accompanied by a bitterly cold climate. We, too, grow cold in temperament with less sunlight. And there's little wonder why. Think back, for a moment, to the womb. It was in this darkness where our physical bodies received nourishment from our birth mothers as they formed. It was only when we experienced the trauma of birth that our psyches associated the dark with pain. As we were expelled from our peaceful and nurturing environment and took our first breath in this realm, the violence of that experience made such an impression that we cursed the darkness of our lost Paradise and projected onto it everything that we loathe and fear.

We need to retrain ourselves to see darkness as a place of nourishment, not fear. We need to heal ourselves from the traumas and horrors that the dark represents for us. We can do this by going and seeing what’s there. We have light within us to guide our way. Not every view will be enhanced by a sharp light, mind you; sometimes there is much that is better seen with a gentle light in a soft focus. (You don’t want to repel the specters; you want to learn from them. They need to be eased into the light so that their rich mystery doesn't get compromised.)

As a writer I go into darkness all the time, and I dredge up things from the depths of both an individual and collective unconscious that I often didn't know were there. When I go deep inside that pitch-black cave, use a soft light to fish in the pool of shadows and catch one, I'll ask her kindly to tell me her story. She usually does, surprised and grateful she's been given a platform whereby she can share her depth and wisdom. It becomes cathartic, for her and for me.

Nourishment is what the dark of winter is all about. Physically we may eat a little more to keep our bodies warmer. Spiritually and emotionally we retreat inwards, exploring our hang-ups to see why they are there and how we might correct them and move forward. Once we surrender our egos and open ourselves to our cosmic teachers (the hang-ups), we learn. Once that happens we can then emerge without fear from our winter wombs, ready to drink in the pleasures of the unfolding earth and meet the challenges of our ever-changing world.

Speaking of nourishment (you knew a shameless plug had to come along, didn’t you?!), “Vegemite Girl,” a poem that first appeared in the Fall 2008 issue of The Helix, will run on Twitter and Facebook starting March 5th. It’s a very playful poem that takes a look at intersections and disjunctions of food, culture and identity in a lighthearted conversational tone.

We may be heading into more daylight, but shouldn't forget that the dark is equally nurturing and can lead us to understanding who we really are as a whole (provided we don't forget to return to the light and maintain balance).

Namaste.

"Love is what we are born with. Fear is what we learn. The spiritual journey is the unlearning of fear and prejudices and the acceptance of love back in our hearts."--Marianne Williamson

Updates

2010-01-30T16:29:00.015-05:00

It's been awhile since my last post, but I've been hard at work on a fiction project.

"Window, Leongatha, VIC, July 1999" will be running one line daily on Twitter between February 1st and 22nd. It first appeared in DISPATCH #3 in 2007 and treats the subject of isolation, particularly the pain of seeing a world you long to be a part of but an invisible and unconscious barrier restrains you. (Don't forget to read the lines from bottom to top.)

"Holy/Wholly" (a poem) will appear in a future issue of Art Times (but this can be anytime within the next 24-36 months due to backlog).

Also, if you're on Facebook, become a fan of my page! The badge is posted on this blog.

Until next time, I wish you the very best for the Wolf Moon and for February!

Welcome, 2010!

2009-12-31T09:08:00.010-05:00

In some parts of the world, 2010 has already arrived. In other parts (such as here in Connecticut), we still await (in the snow).

Some poems (old and new) have been recently featured on the Woodstock Poetry Society members' page. Have a read. I'm proud to be a member of this community in 2010.

I offer my gratitude to 2009 for all of the joys, achievements and teachings it has brought. Wherever we all are located, it is my passionate hope that 2010 brings us all the blessings of prosperity, joy and happiness, understanding, compassion and peace. May we set our differences aside and come together, recognizing that we all have a part in the dance of life.

"Your Hand" should be clicking on Twitter!

2009-12-04T17:25:00.003-05:00

"Your Hand" has been running line by line on Twitter. Check it out if you haven't already...just don't forget to read from bottom to top!

Creative Energy: Following the Flow

2009-11-21T15:34:00.053-05:00

A friend who started dabbling in poetry recently asked me how I became a poet.

At first I didn't know to respond. I mean, it wasn't something I'd set out to become (originally I'd forseen myself as a professor of Victorian literature who would write suspense novels on the side). Poetry was--is--something I'd fallen into, and I wasn't comfortable pigeon-holing myself as poet because I am a writer of different genres--short fiction, children's fiction, essays and articles. I'd also really had no formal training in poetry save for two classes as an undergraduate. Most of my training had been in prose.

As I told my friend, my walk along the poetic path came about via an unexpected turn. I'd been working for a continuing medical education publisher in Greenwich, CT, and commuting back and forth by train each day to avoid the Stamford and New York traffic crunch. I'd been revisiting a collection of Victorian women's poetry--savoring old favorites like Christina Rosetti's "Goblin Market" and Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "To George Sand: A Recognition." There was something about the rhythm of the train's trucks rolling along the tracks that, when set to reading the latter poem, sent me into a trance-like meditative state and began to stir emotional spectres out of the cobwebbed nooks in my memory. Twenty minutes later I looked at my canvas of college-ruled notebook paper and saw that a sonnet had exploded onto it. I tried to make sense of the scribbles, thinking something beyond me--a divine hand perhaps--had to have put it there. Then I realized the hand that had set all my emotions to imagery and iambic pentameter had been my own! I was ecstatic! And so it became a regular practice. I'd let my mind wander during my daily commutes on Metro-North and allow the poems to come in whatever form they chose. Once I even had music come to me along with the words (and I'm hoping that my husband, who writes songs, can help me translate it to sheet music one day).

I no longer work in Greenwich or ride the train daily, but entering that meditative poetic state comes so naturally now that I can still churn out a poem in roughly twenty minutes (not including the time it takes to edit and rework the scribbles) and I do this whenever it feels right.

I fell into art recently in much the same way I did poetry--serendipity. I'd been in an art supply store one day looking for odd-sized frames when I ended up in the aisles that housed canvases, acrylic and oil-based paints, charcoal pencils and sketch pads. Having had no previous formal art training of any kind, I decided to dabble (first charcoal sketching, then acrylic painting) and tapped into something I didn't even know I had. Like with poetry, all I had done was let myself go into a meditative zone and then was left with an interesting sketch or a painting. I decided to audit an introductory drawing class and have had some surprising results. I'm still a novice, especially with tone, but branching out and exploring a visual form has been enriching me creatively.

Poetry and art happen in conjunction with fiction and essay writing. In fact, I'd say they've become interdependent. One medium or genre gives birth to ideas for another or keeps the creative juices flowing on one side of the brain while the other side is resting. They all seem to work together. That's why I don't like being packaged as just poet or writer or artist or thinker. I'd like to think I can be all of these.

What really spurred this creative expansion? A Muse. I don't know how else to account for the surge I've been riding through my late twenties into my early thirties. It's as simple as that. A Muse has been leading me. Fortunately, I've had the good sense to follow Her ebb and flow while developing my paddles and strokes. That has meant trusting the discoveries and destinations the Source has led me to, even if it means adjusting plans.

Going with the flow is an essential part of creativity. Let go and you open yourself up to new, exciting and endless possibilities!

"Golden Malice" and "The Lament of Hephaistos" in November issue of Dark Lady Poetry

2009-11-15T11:33:00.005-05:00

The November issue of Dark Lady Poetry is online now! Head on over, read, and leave any comments here if you'd like.

More Gourmet Poetry Served Daily...and Live

2009-10-25T19:38:00.002-04:00

Between Monday, October 26th and Friday, November 6th, you can read "Fault Lines" on Twitter. This poem also made its first appearance in the Fall 2008 issue of The Helix.

I'll be reading and unveiling some new work at the Poets and Writers Gathering this Tuesday night (October 27th), 6:30 to 8:30 p.m. at Walnut Beach Cafe in Milford, CT. Come join us for words, wine and wit!

Moving On

2009-10-15T17:46:00.013-04:00

I hope you enjoyed "Moving On" (inspired by a real experience feeding crimson rosellas when I was in the Dandenong Ranges, Australia, in '06) and its daily installments on my Twitter page.

The more I write, the more I realize the healing power of the writing process. In "Poet as Curandera," Pat Mora says writing is a ritual that transforms reality and seeks to heal wounds. Mora writes this within a specific cultural context, of course, and there is much more to "the writer as curandera" within that specific context that I won't detail here. Yet I can't help but carry the idea of curandera into my own approach to the writing process and what writing means to me.

I've always felt a strong drive within me to be a healer and I see writing as a kind of healing instrument--"verbal medicine," if you like. Each time I heal my soul through writing (a recurring and recursive process), those pieces that rise up from the well "move on" to a reader's eye and provides that person a momentary shift in thought, an affirmation, a resonance, an inspiration or a new perspective (at least, that's what I hope).

So here's to healing for all of us and our Earth as we move into the colder months!

Gourmet Poetry Now Served Daily!

2009-09-27T15:39:00.010-04:00

Between September 28th (tomorrow) and October 16th, you'll have the rare opportunity to read "Moving On" in a daily line-by-line tweet format on Twitter. What this means is that I'll be serving one line of the poem each day on Twitter between tomorrow and October 16th. Read. Take in. Come back the next day for another helping.

"Moving On" made its first appearance in the Fall 2008 issue of The Helix. Since the rights have reverted back to me, I'm happy to serve you a daily helping of this musing on detachment and something we see very vibrant reminders of at this time of year--change.

It's the Time of the Season...

2009-09-15T17:43:00.006-04:00

…for loving—early autumn!

It’s once again that time when Mother Nature whips out her paint brush and dazzles us with her color palette. And besides time for leaf peeping, early autumn also means apple-picking, corn mazes and festivals. It’s the time when we celebrate the fruits of the earth and reap the harvest of the seeds we sowed at the beginning of the year.

Autumn is a time of maturity, of things coming full circle. It is the Universe’s most vivid reminder that life is a cyclic dance of birth-death-rebirth. As Keats acknowledges in his poem To Autumn, Fall is a season of “mellow fruitfulness” as we retreat inward—physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually—to prepare ourselves for the next cycle ahead.

Transitions afford a chance to look back at the road we’ve trekked and re-evaluate the path laying before us. As we make the shift from summer to autumn (and then from autumn to winter), we might ask: How have I used this past season? What have I done with or learned from it? What do I still need or expect to do in the next cycle? Taking time to reflect during a change in season helps us clarify what we need in our journey toward joy and fulfillment.

There are many ways I rejoice in early autumn’s bounty. But the simplest way is a casual walk in the park to notice the trees’ golden and fiery hues, feel the hundreds of fallen acorns under my feet and smell the crisper and smokier air. An annual ride to Silverman’s Farm in Easton for the apple cider I mull with a special recipe is another way to ring in autumn.

The earth is ablaze in color and ripe in fruit! Happy harvest!

Summer Reading

2009-08-11T18:04:00.019-04:00

In between little getaways here and there this summer I’ve been hard at work on a couple of different projects. I've also been reading and tending to my inner self.

If you're a busy woman like me, the more laid-back days of summer may seem like our only excuse to take time for ourselves and nurture our minds, bodies and spirits (though we need to do this every day, all year round).

I love to sit at the beach and just watch and listen to the waves roll--in and out, in and out--like the rhythm of the breath. It not only soothes me, but also takes me to a place deep within. I'll sit there and meditate for awhile. I'll sketch. I'll also read, usually something with a spiritual focus that I can thumb through quickly like 100 Ways to Keep Your Soul Alive, The Celestine Prophecy: A Pocket Guide to the Nine Insights, or a recent issue of Sage Woman. (By the way, if you'd like to see my articles that have appeared in Sage Woman--"Discovering Our Inner Treasure," Issue 67, pp. 29-31; "In the Arms of Mother Earth," Issue 61, p. 65; and "How a Tree Grew Out of a Burning Bush," Issue 60, p. 96--visit http://www.sagewoman.com/ and click on "Back Issues." A shameless plug, I know!)

I really do believe that reading is a powerful action. It takes us up and out of ourselves, brings us to new places, helps us see and understand things in a way we might not have before, or may also affirm an idea or an experience we may have had. Reading nurtures us in a holistic way.

The novels below may not exactly be light reading for the beach, but I thought I'd share them with you because I love them (and each one has influenced me in some way):

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut (anything by Vonnegut rocks!)
Tomorrow, When the War Began by John Marsden
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon
Flowers in the Attic by V.C. Andrews

I'm currently reading Piece by Piece, Tori Amos' autobiography (penned with Ann Powers). The way she engages the creative process is amazing! I'm also reading Ragweed by Avi.

No matter what anyone says, even in our digital age, reading is still fundamental and still fun! And it nurtures our minds, hearts and bodies as much as that brilliant summer sun out there does!

Getting Lazy at the Meadow

2009-08-03T06:28:00.026-04:00

Last week my husband and I enjoyed gettin’ lazy and ‘rocketing through the wilderness’ at Kate's Lazy Meadow Motel (Kate being the lovely Kate Pierson of The B-52s) in Mt. Tremper, NY. What a fun weekend getaway! From the moment we pulled into the driveway and were greeted by one of the staff, we felt welcomed at this real home away from home. Kate and her partner Monica have made this spot (which is a short drive from Woodstock) such a fun and magical place--retro-mod decor, beautiful landscaping, and a peaceful and serene mountain setting.

We loved our cabin (the Sakajawia suite). Not only do I adore Ms. Pierson as a rock and singing goddess, but I also love her as a decorator! The 50s-style kitchen table and chairs, the overhead hanging lamps, and the orange and green-checkered floors begged me to leave my deadlines at the door and laptop aside, to just let loose and have fun! My favorite piece in the room was an acrylic painting of a Native American woman that hung in one corner. It had golden background tones and a bright bronzed face that looked at me with a strong, almost playful, expression—a confident woman who knew what she was all about! Her dark eyes and smile invited me to seek pleasure and enjoyment, and I let myself fall completely under her spell. In fact, the whole cabin beckoned us to leave all cares back home and just take in the delights of the room, the quiet, the fresh mountain air, the beautiful grounds, an uncorked wine, and the rabbit that would visit us each morning by the deck. Enchantment lay in every corner at Lazy Meadow and we grew intoxicated as we took it all in.

And we also roamed.

The view of the Esopus Creek past the pine, spruce and airstream trailers was breathtaking (and I can’t wait to start translating what I captured in photos onto the canvas--I dabble in visual arts too)! Shopping and arts abounded in Woodstock. Overlook Mountain provided an exhilarating 3-mile hike. Peekamoose in Big Indian (bistro with cozy atmosphere) and Cucina in Woodstock (trendy Italian) both served excellent dinners. The ‘Blue Monkeys’ at Sweet Sue’s in Phoenicia were the best pancakes this side of the galaxy!

In sum, Lazy Meadow and the Catskills provided a truly blissful weekend adventure! More photos to follow. But, yes, that's me up top feeling pretty good already upon our arrival!

Walnut Beach Cafe

2009-07-23T17:41:00.005-04:00

Hey everyone! If you're in Milford, CT, Tuesday, July 28th, join our monthly "Poets & Writers at Walnut Beach Café / Gallery " for open readings of poetry, prose and other story forms, 6:30 pm to 8:30 pm. Come share your work or get inspired by others in a friendly and open atmosphere. Wil (owner of the cafe) is a warm and wonderful host, not to mention a very enthusiastic supporter of the literary and visual arts!

I have a blog!

2009-07-16T18:46:00.000-04:00

I finally have an "official" blog! I'm glad to be here. Stay tuned for more updates...