Creative Arts and Healing
Dear readers, friends, sudden newcomers to this website, welcome!

Spring is a rapturous season here in Tallahassee, Florida, where in only mid April
the tomatoes are ripening and basil lends its aphrodesiacal fragrance to everything it touches (sandwiches, omelets, salads, rice, ad infinitum), peas are crunchy off the vine, and the cucumber leaves triple overnight..... Rain falls in just the right amount, the sun shines with just enough breeze, my yard is lush and green, the trees leaves more sparkling in their youthful nature, and

at last, I am hard at work on a book I've been talking about wanting to write for a very long time: Prison Wisdom. Taking the ten anthologies of inmate writing and trying to coax them into an accessible, eloquent, poignant, inspirational shape, so that all who read its pages are not only touched by the writings of inmates, but moved with a tender urgency to pick up their own pen and write. Write about rooms you remember, write about a lonely time, write about a magic moment, write about your mother and father, your children, your longings, your sorrows, your jubilations. For as Bo Lozoff once said "We are all doing time..." and how do we do it? That's the key. Do we live in bitterness, regret? Do we live greedily, haphazardly? Do we live consciously, attuned to our inner voices as well as outer circumstance? Do we live by the clock, or by soul-time?

I just finished reading Cheryl Strayed's book Wild. I happened to hear her speak at Florida State where she also read from her book, and my husband Tom purchased Wild for me for our 26th wedding anniversary. In between everything else, I finally picked it up (it's a large book in every sense of the world) and lived through her trek on the Pacific Crest Trail with her, through every hardship and gladness, through losing her boots, (and toenails), through
meeting characters who were generous, kind, scary, decent, as she traversed over snow, rock, mountain, step by step, day by day, from Mohave, California to the Bridge of the Gods,
over the Columbia River, Oregon on one side (the end of her journey) and Washington State on the other.

We all need wildness. For many years I had on my wall the poster with a John Muir saying "In wildness is the preservation of the world." Along with us humans who live here. We need to be alone with sky and river, clouds and forest, birds and foxes; we need to breathe air unsullied by the city's commerce. We all need, at least, a garden, a bench, a half barrel of tomatoes and basil, to ground us, to nourish us, to remind us of our own connection to
the elements. To remind us to breathe... to be still... to weep perhaps, as we take it all in, and let it all out, and take it in again...

Thank you Cheryl for your reminder. Thank you to all the authors who inspire me, who
take me on journeys, thanks for the gift of literature.

Meanwhile, I go on writing Haiku, Spring Haiku, Rain Haiku, in tune with the seasons.

Here's a coupla to leave you with, for now

Tulips opening
letting inner sunshine out
reminding me to

Birds can't wait for dawn
to begin their rejoicing
singing the sun up

Rain washing away
the debris of my old past
birthing me again

Spring fever rises
with morning sun - quick, outside
buds are opening

May this Springtime invite you out into it -- to picnic, hike, play ball, swim, dance, plant seeds, moon-view, write poems to the rain. Nature never stops, always turning over a new leaf, look into her kaleidoscopic mirror and find your treasure


[ view entry ] ( 1999 views )

<< <Back | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | Next> >>