An omen hunter and rapture reveler for life, I had to share
this metaphor thread with you. This is a photo I took in early October on
mini-retreat with a group of my larger-than-life writing loves (we met for four
scant days to fill our hearts, and to read from Unmasked: Women Write About Sex and Intimacy after 50). Running away to play with these writers keeps me sane
and helps me see my world in a way in which I can thrive. I love
that in this photo the mirror sits framed inside of a ship’s wheel, that I’m
finally in a place in my life where I feel I can think about putting myself at
the center of the steering wheel of my joy again.
Remember this post and image from September September 2,
2011: Why Every Wife Could Use Her Own Hmong Tribe (and a Thundershirt)? The mirror
in my room, the room of my first AROHO retreat (where I very first met the very women I
met this October to write with) spoke to me of the yin-yang stress of feeling
forgotten and invisible in my marriage due to a convergence of high-energy factors, including a joyful one: a wedding, and an incredibly stressful one: loss of twenty-three lives overseas, and a confusing one: trying to make sense of the impact of two-city living on my marriage.
Remember this post and image from September 14, 2013:
Emerging From the Cocoon: Sisters Real and Imagined? I had the same room, two
years later on AROHO summer writing retreat, and this time instead of division,
I captured in the mirror an open door. Our family was living under the same roof, no longer split between two cities. And I was on the verge of seeing my first poetry book, November Butterfly, take form thanks to Saddle Road Press, learning to trust my writing
process and myself again, again in large part due to trusting that in order to heal and grow, I had to be willing to risk letting my family take care of themselves while I took care of my inner calling. My extended writing support network helped me believe over and over again that I needed to take time for my work.
Fast forward to fours years later, and I’m happy to be
moving into the full spectrum of color again and waking up in so many ways and
writing, always writing, to clear the debris of the past to be more fully awake
now. I’m grateful to have a practice of writing, companions of heart, readers
who care, and this blog, like a steady, familiar friend, where I’ve been able
to quietly write, post, reflect, and converse with the listening hearts Feral Mom, Feral Writer has so steadily brought into my orbit.
Zoetic Press Write Like Your Alive 2017: Free Fall Poetry
Zoetic Press challenged writers during the month of August to
see if we could turn in work every day for 31 days, otherwise known as the Write Like You're Alive Challenge. Many of
us came close, and thanks to Lise Quintana and the Zoetic Press staff, you can download a PDF of the WLYA anthology of selected
works created during the challenge.
The download is free;
I have a poem titled, “Grand Canyon” and below you’ll find a word cloud, a word
or phrase per entry, just to get your curiousity going. I found particularly moving the works that focused on looking at various forms of mental duress—one in particular is a short story, "Out of true," by academic surgeon David Hoenig, written
from the point of view of a narrator trying to keep his schizophrenia in check so
he can love the woman he loves. So poignant. Here’s the world cloud from the
collection as a whole:
stepford
composure marginalia opposing moons
custody experiment Mimosa future civil
rights
bourbon cad
bourbon cad
fiction gal lifeline papillae
target pita dough return-to-sender
rumpled suede of your voice broom fissure
stalagmite
green shoes God hotline forbidden magic
coyote dragonfly Grand Canyon coffee
wooden teeth
Adam and Eve
marimba scribe quarantine bullseye
