Wary (7 Lines/7 Days #10)

#108Weeks





It has been tough leading up to school and not knowing what I'll be doing.

Can't anyone read the writing on the wall?

This is all a charade brought on by the governor.

Right now I just want to cry.

I am not fearful, but I am wary.
I know nothing is guaranteed, even if
I try to remain as safe as possible.
I can only do what I feel is right.

Yesterday I just wanted to let myself "Be" --
and so went with the flow of the day.

Do not spend one more minute of worry.
Everything will be alright.
(These words are a blessing.)

Flowers

Inspired by Joy Harjo's "Everlasting."





I am clinging to my deep knowledge
that all will be well.
If I'm learning anything, it is that
I have bounced through life,
confronted with tough situations,
and I was assured I'd make it
through.
I did then.
I will now.
I may or may not be offered the
flower of choice;
it will be what it will be.
We charge forward knowing the harm,
and this is baffling.
We have lost our way.
There are flowers for the dead
to come.
Will I be among them? I don't know.
Understanding that I am not to
worry means I cast my soul to
its destiny...

and let it be.

Write Around the Corner Meeting Prompts 7/11/2020

#WriteAroundtheCorner




#1. Three Sensory Words

We sent three sensory words to another person in the group, and they used them to write something of their own, using all or some of the words.

Example words: tickle, prickly, salivate, illuminate, soothing, jarring


#2. Describe a room using specific details.


#3 The Wound, The Scar, The Soft Spot

Consider your body -- your scars, your stress points, places that draw your attention. Write about one of them.

Holy Confusion (7 Lines/7 Days #9)

#108Weeks

When I look back at this summer, what will I see?

Am I motivated by love or fear?

These words come to me as a strange comfort:

What of it?

Indeed.

What of it? 

I used to live in a country that cared about its citizens, 

but it is becoming more & more apparent that isn't the case.

This has been a day to realize

where I'm standing right now.

I'm focusing on quieting down, continuing to purge,

and create my sacred space, bit by bit.

Today I am going to take it easy.

Morning Prayers

Inspired by Joy Harjo's "Morning Prayers."

My morning prayers today feel blank.

I do not know what to pray for.

I guess I need to pray with.

With the belief that the course of things will somehow serve us.

With the clear-eyed look at fear -- call it what it is.

With the unbending faith that we will make it through.

The days are short.

Answers few.

Found While Mudlarking: "Tempest"

I found this poem, perfectly typed out, in a journal.

The date is March 30, 2003.

The day the United States invaded Iraq.



Tempest

A tempest blows in Florida.
     I walk as the clouds gather
        dark, foreboding, yet lightning free

Until I round the bend
      to the lake and the
        wind whips my hair back

A great blue heron
     symbol of aggression
          is up to its feathers in water

In deep, trying to escape
     what is coming -- me.
           The wind blows harder

The fountain spray flails
    like so much holy water
          on the holy war to come

Jihad for those who are
     pre-emptive and assumptive
         and arrogant of all

The world should be.
   I see a tree, the last
     remaining flowers and

The bottom branch, broken, hanging
           swaying in the wind.

Jason & Jack (7 Lines/7 Days #8)

#108Weeks


(Note: This week my thoughts seemed to be all over the place. I tried to group things as well as possible, and then framed with my favorite quotes from the week.)




Jason Reynolds says a synonym for freedom is "breathlaughter."

      Getting in the flow of my journal project.
      I'm really in "finishing stuff" mode.

                            Alliance for the Arts has opened an exhibit. Can't wait to go!

      I had too much faith in "good sense will prevail."
      What will happen when there aren't enough teachers?

                            Jack Kerouc says: "There's your karma, ripe as peaches."

Groundwater (a monostitch)

Inspired by "The Hurting Time" by January Gil O'Neil

The only time I listened much

to Annie Lennox

was 13 years ago when Jim

was in the hospital

after nearly dying, so I can

concur with O'Neil when

she talks of how "her words

get inside me/like groundwater"

since I can't hear Annie without

thinking of those days;

and I think of them now

as concern swirls around

our long term health,

and what is to come.

An incredible performance of "Why"

 

Ready

I think I understand.

That it is after all the small victories that matter,

that are in the end, enough

-Owen Sheers-

It's a small victory every time

I recognize the stress my own

mind is putting me through,

and I turn my attention and

effort into a more fruitful direction.

Which is always the present.

Because I don't know what we

are headed toward and I don't 

know my role in it.

I only know if I want to get there

successfully, this moment is

building toward it.

This is the way to be ready.

Something to Consider

Inspired by David Kirby's poem " I Have Not Come Here to Compare Notes But to Sit Together in the Stillness at the Edge of the Wound."

I have nothing to say to you, really.

I just want to see what I'm looking at.

I want so much not to listen...but to hear.

I.
What has happened exactly to bring
me this wild wave of optimism?

Last weekend everything looked
bleak and dark, a non-holiday to
celebrate a non-unified country.

But today -- I see so much sun it is
nearly blinding.

I think for a long time it was hard
to see what I was looking at,
to call it by its true name.

II.
I was taught in third grade that to
listen was a deeper activity than hearing.

Yet, David Kirby turns that on
its head when he says he
doesn't just want to listen, but
to hear.

And I think how I pride myself
on listening, and I teach my
students the same.

Do I teach them to listen?
Or to listen AND hear?

What is my mode of operation?

Something to consider.

III.
Perhaps part of the answer is in
the title of the poem that prompted
this particular piece of writing.

We must be still and sit
at the end of the wound. Allow it
to ooze its message. No one is
exempt from what it has to
teach, reveal, unveil.

We can create noise.
Or we can be still...listen...hear.

Priority #1

I heard the sound of rain briefly last
Night, while I lay awake in my
Bed, thinking of how my life can
Basically get thrown away in the
Most painful way and no one cares.

When I say "no one" I mean the powers
That, through their obsession to
Please the president, which means
Serving the economy as Priority #1,
We have all become expendable.

Teachers.
Students.
Bus drivers.
Cafeteria workers.
Front office workers.
Custodial staff.

Every single worker in the school
System--the 2nd largest employer
Here -- put on notice.

You. Don't. Matter.

How to Become a Poet

And you know, feel, that this is how it looks,

the end of one earthly country.

--Czeslaw Milosz

Yesterday was a dark day for me.

I could not say "Happy 4th" 

for I do not feel happiness for our country.

We have descended into some really

deep destructive scary stuff.

Yesterday in the poem I read by Nick Flynn,

he quoted St. Augustine:

Do you wish to rise?

Begin by descending.

I want to believe this downward

motion we've been in for so long

is the way to rise again.

Michael Meade says it over and over.

The old world is already gone.

We are to be building a new one.

Yet...it still feels like demolition is all around.

 Is this how to become a poet?

Czeslaw Milosz reminds me of the horrors involved,

how we can lose a country.

It happened to my ancestors.

Now I feel it happening to me.

 

Themes (7 Lines/7 Days #7)

June 28 - July 4, 2020

#108Weeks

I'm thinking of steps for creating my sacred space.

I can get momentum going with "Just Do 5 Things."

The new approach feels just right!

It is with overwhelming sadness

I realized there is no flippin' way

I can go back to the campus to teach.

I made a big decision to purge my journals

to free up space physically and emotionally.

I feel ready to let go of all that came before.

Doing the purging project is helping me 

see themes that run through my life.

Mudlarking

Inspired by January Gil O'Neill's poem "Mudlarking, Dead Horse Beach."

I don't know if it is this pandemic stuff, or if this would have happened anyway, but I am in a major purging mood.

It is no secret that decluttering can help bring more energy to life. The thing is, a lot of time I don't have the energy to put into purging. Or I feel stalled for some reason.

But nothing is the same now. I've been having a feeling for a while that I want to rid myself of all kinds of old teaching stuff. I have to admit I rarely use but maybe 2% of it. Letting it go feels like a way to advance as a teacher -- to seek out the new, to not rely too much on the past.  Good teaching practices, of course. Yet, opening up a path to the new.

The same goes for my personal life. I got started last week by weeding out a ton of cups, mugs, and other non-used items in our kitchen cabinet. It felt great. It gave me energy to start thinking about the next step.

I have two things to focus on: reducing my books and getting them into more defined shelving,  and clearing out my nearly 30 years of journals.

The journal project was started in 2015, but soon fell apart. It took a great deal out of me to go through the journals, culling out the documented parts of my life I wanted to keep. I also store various letters and other items in my journal notebook pockets that need to be looked at and decided upon. It takes a lot of time.

I have always known I couldn't just toss these things. I have a way of saving them in binders, in plastic sleeves. It's a good approach, as I don't feel I'm "throwing my life away."

Today is the day to start this project in earnest, and keep going to see it through until the end.

So when I read January O'Neill's poem on mudlarking, and realized it was about searching through the mud for shells, sea glass, little bits of bone, and other items, I realized it is the perfect word for my project. I admit, I had to look this word up because I had never heard it before.

This is part of the little poem I wrote today:

I feel an incredible shift happening

as I'm willingly leaving the past behind.

Mudlarking will be the name of my

current project. Much like January

in her poem, I'll be digging for the 

most precious fragments 

that have represented my life

for the past nearly 30 years.

I feel a fountain of energy in my 

heart area as I think of this.

The discovery. The release.

The careful curation.

So, Mudlarking it is!

Another July 1st

It's halfway through this ridiculous year. Another July 1st. Another mark in time.

I have had several standout July 1sts in my life, many which I have no interest in going into here. The most outstanding was the day I was told I had ovarian cancer. Thankfully, that was not correct.

Today was decision day.

Today I had to finally come to terms with releasing the idea of going back into the classroom directly this fall, if that is the path the district takes.

We were told early today we'd be informally surveyed by our principals, advised on what kind of questions would be asked, and that this was just for planning purposes. Nothing written in stone.

However, I've been waffling too long. I needed to feel definitive.

I needed to let go.

The school year for teachers begins August 3rd. I turned 65 on August 6th.

I have been told that because of my age, if I want to go back into the classroom I have to sign a voluntary return form.

But that isn't the issue.

The issue is uncertainty. I feel tremendously healthy, and I like to sometimes think I could get away with day-to-day close contact with people (no matter what anyone says, that is what it would be.) I still carry some invincible genes from youth.

Today I had to let that notion go. Thinking about answering the questions for my brand new principal (I think he starts today), made me realize I had to KNOW what I wanted to do.

Well -- NEED to do. It isn't what I want.

As I get older, I can see that little things pop up unexpectedly when it comes to health and my body, situations that are new because of aging.  I cannot ignore that a huge percentage of people who have died from this virus were 65 or older. Yes, they may have had lung issues or been obese or in a nursing home where it ran rampant. That isn't the point. The point is susceptibility.

I have known for a long time that I was selfish thinking I could go back into that classroom of mine and everything would work out. I knew that I whatever I came into contact with would most likely come home to my husband, who has noticeably aged since his mild stroke. I tried to blot out any fear of this scenario. So my response was to not think about it. I figured I would know when I had to decide.

Today was that day.

Around 9:30 this morning I knew I had to let go. I burst into tears -- but not for long. It felt good to decide. It felt good to stop pretending I could do something I obviously cannot.

Perhaps we will all be going virtual, and none of this will really matter. I've been told that if I want to work remotely, there may be a chance of that, even if on-site school resumes.

When talking to Jim about all of this, I had a moment when I could see that all is in perfect order. No matter what direction all of this takes, I know I will be in the right place for me. My dream of continuing to teach will be fulfilled.

Again I'm reminded that making a decision is usually just about getting in line with the Universal Design. And I'm grateful for that!