Since I have decided to start including poems in my blog from time to time I thought I would begin with this one.
POETRY
When you wonder,
at the startling beauty
of a scarlet sunrise,
over an endless horizon
of mountains in winter,
or tiny snow puffs
mounding like whipped cream
on the relishing fingertips
of pines,
you know about poetry.
When a lovely turn of phrase
restores old memories
and invites
a flowing of words
tumbling from afar,
joining you with souls
of ancient dreamers
and asking you to
be a friend,
you know about poetry.
When you know passion,
loving words with abandon
as if they are long lost lovers--
or knights in shining armor
releasing you from
demons and
bad dreams
through nights of betrayal
and days of lost chances,
you know about poetry.
When you hear an Easter ringing of bells
celebrating from church steeples,
or when you glimpse--
swallows rolling in waves
through gray sky
like blankets being
shaken out in springtime
filling you with the fresh scent
of life,
you know about poetry.
Pamela Wolf
Ann Woodbury Hafen Poetry Contest April 1, 2003 Honorable mention
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Reprise: The Day it Rained Gold
I love Northern Colorado Writers. There are always so many opportunities to learn and to connect with the writing world of creative people working on their dreams. We are partners in our individual as well as corporate tasks, helping each other , cheering each other on to whatever goals we have set. We may want to become published or to finish that manuscript, or just to try new things or to re-try something that has been in a drawer or a file just waiting for the right time to bring it out again.
Well, it doesn’t come out on its own. Something sparks it, something demands you take another look.
This week I had that experience as I attended the Meet the Poets evening and then took the workshop the following evening led by Antoinette Voute Roeder. I discovered that poetry is still a voice within me that has needed to come out of hiding. It really does enhance and deepen my passion for writing. Kerry Flanagan, our director suggested I incorporate a poem a month into my blog. It would be a good way to keep in touch with that side of myself but would not remove me from my other stated writing goals. And it might just infuse some passion into my other writing.
After some review and discussion we were asked to spend a few minutes writing a poem at the end of the session. It felt awkward to me. Like putting on some old worn out shoes I hadn’t had on in a long time that had stiffened up in the previous form. So I’ll share with you what spurted out and then my rewrite. Antoinette said that poems take on a life of their own. The original idea is played with, you think of a different slant, some new words and poetry becomes fun to do. And that is what she emphasized over and over. Writing poetry needs to be fun!
First version
In Fort Collins fall 1965
It was the day the leaves rained gold, boldly dressed breezes
Blew them here and there, they scurried, collected around
Broad tree trunks, sidewalks,across yards still a bit green
From summer. Little voices sparkle through crisp air
While busy feet scoot the pieces of gold into piles
That glimmer today as they did so long ago
Second version
The day it rained gold
The day it rained gold,
leaves fluttered to the ground,
boldy dressed breezes lifted them,
hemmed the sidewalks, wound them
around solid tree trunks like scarves
and danced them across yards
still a bit green from summer.
I remember crisp air ,
busy little feet scooting
the fragile pieces of gold into piles
to glimmer today as they did so long ago.
Well, it doesn’t come out on its own. Something sparks it, something demands you take another look.
This week I had that experience as I attended the Meet the Poets evening and then took the workshop the following evening led by Antoinette Voute Roeder. I discovered that poetry is still a voice within me that has needed to come out of hiding. It really does enhance and deepen my passion for writing. Kerry Flanagan, our director suggested I incorporate a poem a month into my blog. It would be a good way to keep in touch with that side of myself but would not remove me from my other stated writing goals. And it might just infuse some passion into my other writing.
After some review and discussion we were asked to spend a few minutes writing a poem at the end of the session. It felt awkward to me. Like putting on some old worn out shoes I hadn’t had on in a long time that had stiffened up in the previous form. So I’ll share with you what spurted out and then my rewrite. Antoinette said that poems take on a life of their own. The original idea is played with, you think of a different slant, some new words and poetry becomes fun to do. And that is what she emphasized over and over. Writing poetry needs to be fun!
First version
In Fort Collins fall 1965
It was the day the leaves rained gold, boldly dressed breezes
Blew them here and there, they scurried, collected around
Broad tree trunks, sidewalks,across yards still a bit green
From summer. Little voices sparkle through crisp air
While busy feet scoot the pieces of gold into piles
That glimmer today as they did so long ago
Second version
The day it rained gold
The day it rained gold,
leaves fluttered to the ground,
boldy dressed breezes lifted them,
hemmed the sidewalks, wound them
around solid tree trunks like scarves
and danced them across yards
still a bit green from summer.
I remember crisp air ,
busy little feet scooting
the fragile pieces of gold into piles
to glimmer today as they did so long ago.
Monday, October 18, 2010
"My" Desiderata
Many of us have heard the words that begin this prose poem written in 1927 by Max Ehrman.
"Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
....Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and ignorant;
they too have their story.
I wish current politicians would heed these words. How far we have come as our ears are battered every day from angry, exaggerated, and unthinking words that bend information into unrecognizable knots if not outright lies that assail us on T.V.,radio, newspapers and flyers that invade our homes through the mail. I want to know positions of the candidates, but please, lets be decent. Listening is not all that difficult, if you can speak your truth "quietly and clearly", I will be more likely to listen, otherwise I will ignore and turn off the noise. Then sadly the flow of information will be lost.
This prose poem has touched me through the years for different reasons though.
It brings me back to wondering what my desired things are during this season of my life, as I look at my elder years what advice or desired things do I want to give myself?
Believe it or not being honest when you get older is pretty difficult. You have to face up to a bunch of things. Mainly because my experience of "putting things away on the shelf to look at later" just ends up being laziness. Pretty soon those things on the shelf are heavy enough to begin to drag you down. As you get older you already have plenty of things that slow you down. So here is an attempt at my own desiderata. It has to begin with
Go placidly amid the noise and haste:
I have always sought out my own space as I deeply value peace and quiet but now I vow to not use that need as a way to hide from the uncomfortable. The next words: "speak your truth quietly and clearly" is the least I can do. For me it includes advice to myself to stand up for things I believe because the more I stuff them the more bellyaches I get. To be sure I need to speak the words so that I will have the best chance of being :"without surrender (be) on good terms with all persons" (as much as possible)
But in order to do that sometimes I may need to "avoid loud and aggressive persons".It is a way I can give myself a better chance of having a good day. But for me that means I have to look inside to see what messages I have been giving myself that day. Before any of my own internal critique gets going I have to reach out to myself and give myself a hug. It is said we need 3 hugs a day but what if you are not in an environment where that happens. Give yourself a mental hug. Say out loud, "I love you, Pam" (you) then notice something beautiful around you during the day, and speak out loud of the beauty. I think the more messages we give to ourselves (and hear from ourselves) especially during this time of anger and disappointment in the way the world is evolving, the more chance we can truly enjoy our lives and what is remaining of them. and we can decide when to 'speak our mind quietly and clearly' or avoid vexing persons (or turn off the T.V.)
Later on in the poem the line "You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."
In order to believe it I vow to practice it daily, give myself a hug. I think small things make a difference."Go placidly amid the noise and haste"
(Find the poem on google or something similar, go by the title)
"Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
....Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and ignorant;
they too have their story.
I wish current politicians would heed these words. How far we have come as our ears are battered every day from angry, exaggerated, and unthinking words that bend information into unrecognizable knots if not outright lies that assail us on T.V.,radio, newspapers and flyers that invade our homes through the mail. I want to know positions of the candidates, but please, lets be decent. Listening is not all that difficult, if you can speak your truth "quietly and clearly", I will be more likely to listen, otherwise I will ignore and turn off the noise. Then sadly the flow of information will be lost.
This prose poem has touched me through the years for different reasons though.
It brings me back to wondering what my desired things are during this season of my life, as I look at my elder years what advice or desired things do I want to give myself?
Believe it or not being honest when you get older is pretty difficult. You have to face up to a bunch of things. Mainly because my experience of "putting things away on the shelf to look at later" just ends up being laziness. Pretty soon those things on the shelf are heavy enough to begin to drag you down. As you get older you already have plenty of things that slow you down. So here is an attempt at my own desiderata. It has to begin with
Go placidly amid the noise and haste:
I have always sought out my own space as I deeply value peace and quiet but now I vow to not use that need as a way to hide from the uncomfortable. The next words: "speak your truth quietly and clearly" is the least I can do. For me it includes advice to myself to stand up for things I believe because the more I stuff them the more bellyaches I get. To be sure I need to speak the words so that I will have the best chance of being :"without surrender (be) on good terms with all persons" (as much as possible)
But in order to do that sometimes I may need to "avoid loud and aggressive persons".It is a way I can give myself a better chance of having a good day. But for me that means I have to look inside to see what messages I have been giving myself that day. Before any of my own internal critique gets going I have to reach out to myself and give myself a hug. It is said we need 3 hugs a day but what if you are not in an environment where that happens. Give yourself a mental hug. Say out loud, "I love you, Pam" (you) then notice something beautiful around you during the day, and speak out loud of the beauty. I think the more messages we give to ourselves (and hear from ourselves) especially during this time of anger and disappointment in the way the world is evolving, the more chance we can truly enjoy our lives and what is remaining of them. and we can decide when to 'speak our mind quietly and clearly' or avoid vexing persons (or turn off the T.V.)
Later on in the poem the line "You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."
In order to believe it I vow to practice it daily, give myself a hug. I think small things make a difference."Go placidly amid the noise and haste"
(Find the poem on google or something similar, go by the title)
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Pilgrimage
The idea of making a pilgrimage back to my hometown caught my attention ever since I spoke with an old friend about his return to our home town. Two years ago, Cedar Rapids, Iowa, suffered what later was called not a hundred years flood but according to some residents, a thousand year flood. Cedar Rapids is unique in that it is the only town in the country that has its municipal buildings including the courthouse and jail on an Island in the middle of a river. The Cedar River.
It was a major disaster, the river rose 20 feet above flood stage and covered the bridges that crossed the island to reach each side of town. Sandbagging there or anywhere near the river was useless. The town was warned that a flood was coming but no one predicted the magnitude of the rising water that hit its peak after six inches of rainfall.
I wanted to return. I wanted to see for myself. I had to in order to really believe it so I could reach out my arms to offer some kind of solace to those I knew and didn’t know too who experienced it. I needed to hold it close to work through my pain and frustration. My broken heart wanted to keep it out of arms reach, to not think about it. But more than anything else I knew I had to make my memories of my home town real. I wanted to remove from my mind the memories that I had boarded up like the buildings still with wood plastered over doors and windows.
I didn’t want to continue to pretend It was the place I remembered from my youth, a pristine place, well ordered, many parks, a family town, a farming town and a place that grew to be the second largest city in Iowa because of its location on the river. It was a crossroads, a destination and a striking out place. I wanted to embrace it, as it was now even in disarray with rebuilding and the cleaning that continued to make a dent in the ugliness a disaster always leaves behind.
A pilgrimage? Yes. A journey to a sacred place, absolutely. A journey of thanksgiving for the people who joined in the recovery effort that has already made a huge difference. And a journey of devotion that brought acceptance and appreciation of the people who lived through the disaster to their town and went on with plans and determination to continue to do what it takes to bring it back and yes, to make some new things out of it. I was not looking for supernatural aid, as some pilgrimages do, but natural healing that belongs to a brave Midwestern town. It was truly an act of devotion and a taking into my soul the beautiful, hurting, healing soul of my home town.
Have you ever made a pilgrimage? If so where to?
It was a major disaster, the river rose 20 feet above flood stage and covered the bridges that crossed the island to reach each side of town. Sandbagging there or anywhere near the river was useless. The town was warned that a flood was coming but no one predicted the magnitude of the rising water that hit its peak after six inches of rainfall.
I wanted to return. I wanted to see for myself. I had to in order to really believe it so I could reach out my arms to offer some kind of solace to those I knew and didn’t know too who experienced it. I needed to hold it close to work through my pain and frustration. My broken heart wanted to keep it out of arms reach, to not think about it. But more than anything else I knew I had to make my memories of my home town real. I wanted to remove from my mind the memories that I had boarded up like the buildings still with wood plastered over doors and windows.
I didn’t want to continue to pretend It was the place I remembered from my youth, a pristine place, well ordered, many parks, a family town, a farming town and a place that grew to be the second largest city in Iowa because of its location on the river. It was a crossroads, a destination and a striking out place. I wanted to embrace it, as it was now even in disarray with rebuilding and the cleaning that continued to make a dent in the ugliness a disaster always leaves behind.
A pilgrimage? Yes. A journey to a sacred place, absolutely. A journey of thanksgiving for the people who joined in the recovery effort that has already made a huge difference. And a journey of devotion that brought acceptance and appreciation of the people who lived through the disaster to their town and went on with plans and determination to continue to do what it takes to bring it back and yes, to make some new things out of it. I was not looking for supernatural aid, as some pilgrimages do, but natural healing that belongs to a brave Midwestern town. It was truly an act of devotion and a taking into my soul the beautiful, hurting, healing soul of my home town.
Have you ever made a pilgrimage? If so where to?
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Miles to Go
“But I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep” I recently came across this line from one of Robert Frost’s most read poems, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening as I was trying to get my head cleared to do some writing. I usually look through my folders to find something that clicks for the moment but which has clicked often in the past too. It is probably when I feel the most overwhelmed which is often. I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder when I was about 60 years old so this feeling became very familiar and for the longest time I wondered why I had trouble accomplishing things or just finishing things I wanted to do, not even counting the things I didn’t want to do. I remember at one point one of my most fervent prayers was that I would have to energy to do what I really wanted to do that day.
So today what I really want to do is to write a post for this blog. And maybe for my other one, Writing Outside the Barn, too. I have had a very busy month or two and have experienced some big changes. Change creates stress, we all know that, but that which surprises me often is that good change as well as bad change creates stress. One of my biggest stressors is myself. No surprise here. Right now I am caught up in a planning frenzy to prepare for a trip I am taking next week. I will be gone for 12 days and will be doing three different things. When I planned it I was very excited that I would be able to go to a 50th high school reunion in my home town of Cedar Rapids, Iowa then spend 3 days on a retreat at a place called Prairiewoods Franciscan Retreat Center in Hiawatha Iowa, outside of Cedar Rapids, then a friend is picking me up and we will be driving the 250 miles or so to Chicago where I will meet for some fun with my college sorority pledge class. I will ride back to Cedar Rapids and then fly back to Denver. The first part of my trip will be with my sister and I will be returning on my own. I have been trying to calm my fears about flying, travelling by myself for the first time in 14 years, and weather or not my animals will be taken care of adequately (so my cats don’t get out) My husband will take care of increased horse chores while I am gone and I just learned that my daughter’s husband will be gone most of the time I am gone too and she will most likely need a helping hand with her 3 toddlers while he is gone.
So the promises to keep have to do with re-touching with many old friends and family that I will probably not see again in my life and also to try and keep myself alert and appreciative of the fabulous opportunities will experience while on my journey.
So this promise, that I write in my blog, is a promise I have kept while the miles to go before I sleep will be miles of enjoying, relaxing , being content, being honest with my friends and family so that I will be able to bring gifts of myself and receive theirs. I CAN DO THIS!
So today what I really want to do is to write a post for this blog. And maybe for my other one, Writing Outside the Barn, too. I have had a very busy month or two and have experienced some big changes. Change creates stress, we all know that, but that which surprises me often is that good change as well as bad change creates stress. One of my biggest stressors is myself. No surprise here. Right now I am caught up in a planning frenzy to prepare for a trip I am taking next week. I will be gone for 12 days and will be doing three different things. When I planned it I was very excited that I would be able to go to a 50th high school reunion in my home town of Cedar Rapids, Iowa then spend 3 days on a retreat at a place called Prairiewoods Franciscan Retreat Center in Hiawatha Iowa, outside of Cedar Rapids, then a friend is picking me up and we will be driving the 250 miles or so to Chicago where I will meet for some fun with my college sorority pledge class. I will ride back to Cedar Rapids and then fly back to Denver. The first part of my trip will be with my sister and I will be returning on my own. I have been trying to calm my fears about flying, travelling by myself for the first time in 14 years, and weather or not my animals will be taken care of adequately (so my cats don’t get out) My husband will take care of increased horse chores while I am gone and I just learned that my daughter’s husband will be gone most of the time I am gone too and she will most likely need a helping hand with her 3 toddlers while he is gone.
So the promises to keep have to do with re-touching with many old friends and family that I will probably not see again in my life and also to try and keep myself alert and appreciative of the fabulous opportunities will experience while on my journey.
So this promise, that I write in my blog, is a promise I have kept while the miles to go before I sleep will be miles of enjoying, relaxing , being content, being honest with my friends and family so that I will be able to bring gifts of myself and receive theirs. I CAN DO THIS!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
End of Summer Reading
I don't want you to think this has turned into a book review blog or anything but I do have two more books I have read this summer that I want to tell you about. I guess I need to create a book list on my blogs but I haven't figured out how to easily do that yet. There are lots of things I could be doing with my blogs and even when I get some help with it, it seems that after my helper has gone on to other things and I am on my own, invariably something comes up different than I was shown and I am stumped again.
But this is about books. In my quest for books that relate or connect in some way to the blogs I am writing I came upon two. The first one is "Making Rounds with Oscar: The Extraordinary Gift of an Ordinary Cat. by David Dosa, M.D.
A couple of weeks ago I was startled to learn that one of my blogs about a rescue cat named Jake from Writing Outside the Barn had been picked up by Animal Planet and they wanted to come to Fort Collins to tape him going about his life for an episode of Cats 101. Jake was filmed in several places, one of which was a nursing home. He had recently passed his test to become a therapy cat and had also visited a rehabilitation center where he was given a great deal of attention. So I picked this book up to see how this writer dealt with this sitiation.
Dr. Dosa is a geriatrician who worked with alzheimer's patients in a nursing home. Iwas happy to see the cat was not romanticized and his visits to patients was not seen as a death sentence. But at first when the doctor became aware of the gift Oscar possessed he was skeptical. The book was written as he interacted with the patients and their families. By the time I finished the last page I was in love with this cat and his recognizble but still not explainable way of knowing when a patient or family needed some extra love and care. There is a possible physical link to the cat's ability but still, not that pursuasive.
Since my Dad was an Alzheimer's patient and needed special care I related to the stories deeply. And I remember when my Mom died while visiting family in Phoenix at Christmastime. I was chosen to go on a mission to fly to Colorado to retrieve her companion of many years who was waiting for her to come back, her cat Meisha. It was clear she never would. When I brought the cat in to my Mom she held her close. Meisha stayed by her for her remaining days. It was a comfort to her and to the rest of us as well.
I learned a lot about people in that situation, more than I learned while I was going through it. If you can open your heart to extraordinary connections between people and animals, you will be captivated by this heartwarming and comforting story.
One day, later in the summer I was visiting with a friend about how difficult it was for me to reconcile my hope to protect animals with the need to allow them their freedom and agency in the world. It is not a new dilemma. She suggested I read The Daily Coyote: A Story of Love, Survival, and Trust in the Wilds of Wyoming by writer and photographer Shreve Stockton.
Besides being a beautifully written book with its exquisite descriptions of the wilderness and Wyoming life near the Big Horn Mountains it is an extraordinary photo diary of the coyote puppy she raises after it had been rescued.
A New York City born girl who lived in San Francisco ends up in Ten Sleep Wyoming. How this happens will surprise and delight you. Her pluckiness and willingness to become a part of the landscape and people and to rough it makes an amazing story in itself. Her story will challenge everything you have understood about interactions with wild animals. Even I raised my eyebrows a bit. Her writing is down to earth and real as she brings in classic themes of love and freedom and applies them to her own life. However, nothing overshadows her actual relationship with the coyote, Charlie.
She winds her way honestly through the challenges her decision to keep the coyote pup entails, including her own safety as Charlie matures. She searches her way through it to an ending that provides reconciliation for herself, her current relationship, and Charlie.
This is strictly a personal account, and doesn't go deeply into the politics of raising a coyote in an area where all coyotes are shot on sight. But in a way, it keeps you on the edge of your seat to see how she contends with these dangers. Weaving throughout is a special account of an interspecies relationship between "Charlie" and her young cat, "Eli" that was absolutely magical.
This is an intense book, one I was not able to put down until I got to the end. And then I was disappointed. I wanted to know what happened next. And due to the website originally created by the author when she began to send daily pictures of the coyote to friends and family, I can.
Shreve bravely makes her way through her weeks and months with the coyote, in a new relationship, living a new pioneer kind of life along with the challenge of writing this book. At one point she quotes an uncle when talking about love. "Love is tolerance" she writes. After having been married to the same man for 46 years I can agree. Letting go shows trust, belief and respect. You can't get much clearer then that. I loved this book.
But this is about books. In my quest for books that relate or connect in some way to the blogs I am writing I came upon two. The first one is "Making Rounds with Oscar: The Extraordinary Gift of an Ordinary Cat. by David Dosa, M.D.
A couple of weeks ago I was startled to learn that one of my blogs about a rescue cat named Jake from Writing Outside the Barn had been picked up by Animal Planet and they wanted to come to Fort Collins to tape him going about his life for an episode of Cats 101. Jake was filmed in several places, one of which was a nursing home. He had recently passed his test to become a therapy cat and had also visited a rehabilitation center where he was given a great deal of attention. So I picked this book up to see how this writer dealt with this sitiation.
Dr. Dosa is a geriatrician who worked with alzheimer's patients in a nursing home. Iwas happy to see the cat was not romanticized and his visits to patients was not seen as a death sentence. But at first when the doctor became aware of the gift Oscar possessed he was skeptical. The book was written as he interacted with the patients and their families. By the time I finished the last page I was in love with this cat and his recognizble but still not explainable way of knowing when a patient or family needed some extra love and care. There is a possible physical link to the cat's ability but still, not that pursuasive.
Since my Dad was an Alzheimer's patient and needed special care I related to the stories deeply. And I remember when my Mom died while visiting family in Phoenix at Christmastime. I was chosen to go on a mission to fly to Colorado to retrieve her companion of many years who was waiting for her to come back, her cat Meisha. It was clear she never would. When I brought the cat in to my Mom she held her close. Meisha stayed by her for her remaining days. It was a comfort to her and to the rest of us as well.
I learned a lot about people in that situation, more than I learned while I was going through it. If you can open your heart to extraordinary connections between people and animals, you will be captivated by this heartwarming and comforting story.
One day, later in the summer I was visiting with a friend about how difficult it was for me to reconcile my hope to protect animals with the need to allow them their freedom and agency in the world. It is not a new dilemma. She suggested I read The Daily Coyote: A Story of Love, Survival, and Trust in the Wilds of Wyoming by writer and photographer Shreve Stockton.
Besides being a beautifully written book with its exquisite descriptions of the wilderness and Wyoming life near the Big Horn Mountains it is an extraordinary photo diary of the coyote puppy she raises after it had been rescued.
A New York City born girl who lived in San Francisco ends up in Ten Sleep Wyoming. How this happens will surprise and delight you. Her pluckiness and willingness to become a part of the landscape and people and to rough it makes an amazing story in itself. Her story will challenge everything you have understood about interactions with wild animals. Even I raised my eyebrows a bit. Her writing is down to earth and real as she brings in classic themes of love and freedom and applies them to her own life. However, nothing overshadows her actual relationship with the coyote, Charlie.
She winds her way honestly through the challenges her decision to keep the coyote pup entails, including her own safety as Charlie matures. She searches her way through it to an ending that provides reconciliation for herself, her current relationship, and Charlie.
This is strictly a personal account, and doesn't go deeply into the politics of raising a coyote in an area where all coyotes are shot on sight. But in a way, it keeps you on the edge of your seat to see how she contends with these dangers. Weaving throughout is a special account of an interspecies relationship between "Charlie" and her young cat, "Eli" that was absolutely magical.
This is an intense book, one I was not able to put down until I got to the end. And then I was disappointed. I wanted to know what happened next. And due to the website originally created by the author when she began to send daily pictures of the coyote to friends and family, I can.
Shreve bravely makes her way through her weeks and months with the coyote, in a new relationship, living a new pioneer kind of life along with the challenge of writing this book. At one point she quotes an uncle when talking about love. "Love is tolerance" she writes. After having been married to the same man for 46 years I can agree. Letting go shows trust, belief and respect. You can't get much clearer then that. I loved this book.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Summer Reading
Summer is already proving to be promising much more than it can deliver.
One of the topics we discussed at the NCW members coffee this morning was, summer...how and what to do about summer. How do you get anything done? What are the best ways to be sure you get the most from the long lazy days? In the past I remember I felt depressed when summer came along. I had so many wonderful projects planned. I would make a huge long list. But family vacations, visits, lessons and classes for the kids, vacation bible school, camps etc. etc. would crop up like weeds in my carefully planted garden. Granted I'm past the kid schedule routine (even though I do have grandchildren schedules to consider for at least two days a week) but I still seem to suffer from that over expectation cloud.
Suggestions given by NCW members were helpful: Make deadlines for some things, get in a routine you follow daily and more but the best one was, if you can't make it to your computer (or yellow pad) read.
So that is what I will do. That is what I have already been doing. Even though it is only the first day of summer, here are my summer reads so far.
Pat Stoltey's mystery, "Prairie Grass Murders" was a delightful, romp through a small town's dirty laundry, basements, barns, and psychiatric wards that wouldn't let me put it down. It was complex enough to keep me wondering and with enough action to keep me curious about what was going to happen next to the delighful sleuths.(One of which was close to my own age!) I am not a regular reader of mysteries but this is a perfect read for the summer.
The second book I read was Mark Doty's book, Dog years. It is a dog story (at least two dogs) and a memoir about love and life. Here is what the back cover says (so you won't have to read it when you go into the bookstore) "When Mark Doty decides to adopt a dog as a companion for his dying partner, he brings home Beau, a large malnourished golden retriever in need of loving care. Joining Arden, the black retriever, to complete their family, Beau bounds back into life. Before long the two dogs become Doty's intimate companions, and eventually the very life force that keeps him from abandoning all hope during the darkest days. Dog years is a poignant, intimate memoir interwoven with profound reflections on our feelings for animals and the lessons they teach us about living, love, and loss.
This was a book that was recommended to me by a member of my writer's critique group and I am so grateful. It is a model for what I want to say and how I would like to write, down to using poetry throughout. I hope you read it.
Another book I picked up on my last visit to the bookstore was, The Introvert Advantage, a book that only after ten pages or so has described to me who I am and why I keep looking for books that help me figure out who I am... I am ready to drop the guilt and go for it. Dive underneath all the personal bashing I have done through the years. My psychiatrist saw it in the bookstore and suggested I take a look. Just one of the helpful suggestions she has made in the very short time I have been meeting with her.
I think I will suggest she read Dog Years. She would get a good insight into who I am
One of the topics we discussed at the NCW members coffee this morning was, summer...how and what to do about summer. How do you get anything done? What are the best ways to be sure you get the most from the long lazy days? In the past I remember I felt depressed when summer came along. I had so many wonderful projects planned. I would make a huge long list. But family vacations, visits, lessons and classes for the kids, vacation bible school, camps etc. etc. would crop up like weeds in my carefully planted garden. Granted I'm past the kid schedule routine (even though I do have grandchildren schedules to consider for at least two days a week) but I still seem to suffer from that over expectation cloud.
Suggestions given by NCW members were helpful: Make deadlines for some things, get in a routine you follow daily and more but the best one was, if you can't make it to your computer (or yellow pad) read.
So that is what I will do. That is what I have already been doing. Even though it is only the first day of summer, here are my summer reads so far.
Pat Stoltey's mystery, "Prairie Grass Murders" was a delightful, romp through a small town's dirty laundry, basements, barns, and psychiatric wards that wouldn't let me put it down. It was complex enough to keep me wondering and with enough action to keep me curious about what was going to happen next to the delighful sleuths.(One of which was close to my own age!) I am not a regular reader of mysteries but this is a perfect read for the summer.
The second book I read was Mark Doty's book, Dog years. It is a dog story (at least two dogs) and a memoir about love and life. Here is what the back cover says (so you won't have to read it when you go into the bookstore) "When Mark Doty decides to adopt a dog as a companion for his dying partner, he brings home Beau, a large malnourished golden retriever in need of loving care. Joining Arden, the black retriever, to complete their family, Beau bounds back into life. Before long the two dogs become Doty's intimate companions, and eventually the very life force that keeps him from abandoning all hope during the darkest days. Dog years is a poignant, intimate memoir interwoven with profound reflections on our feelings for animals and the lessons they teach us about living, love, and loss.
This was a book that was recommended to me by a member of my writer's critique group and I am so grateful. It is a model for what I want to say and how I would like to write, down to using poetry throughout. I hope you read it.
Another book I picked up on my last visit to the bookstore was, The Introvert Advantage, a book that only after ten pages or so has described to me who I am and why I keep looking for books that help me figure out who I am... I am ready to drop the guilt and go for it. Dive underneath all the personal bashing I have done through the years. My psychiatrist saw it in the bookstore and suggested I take a look. Just one of the helpful suggestions she has made in the very short time I have been meeting with her.
I think I will suggest she read Dog Years. She would get a good insight into who I am
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