poetry thursday

I am moved to share one of my own poems today. In eighth grade, we had to create a book of poetry as a project for English. As I looked for old pictures and postcards to take with me for a class at ArtFest, I stumbled across this book of my own poetry. Here is one that resonated in this early morning hour.

The Awakening

Across the sky

The colors vividly awaken

All that is around

The trees seem to stretch

As the sunlight fills the air

The birds begin to flutter

And sing sweetly as the sun rises

It is another day

A new beginning

No matter what happens today,

Tomorrow

The sunrise will always be there

Waking up all of nature.

Elizabeth Morgan (age 13)

A thanks to Kat for suggesting people create their own poem this week and participate in Poetry Thursday. Please leave a comment with a link to your blog if you did write a poem as part of Contagious Creativity!

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I also want to share a link to a wonderful site I discovered tonight. Some of you have either shared and enjoyed poems by William Stafford. This is a site dedicated to raising awareness of the power of poetry in Stafford's memory/honor. I have only just begun to explore this website, but it already speaks to my heart. It is very inspiring...

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And as always, if you would like to participate in Poetry Thursday, please share a poem on your blog. You can leave a comment here to let everyone know that you have posted one today. Also, if you want to be added to the list of participants, please send me an email (and if you sent me an email but you are not on the participant list, please send me a friendly reminder).

Happy reading!

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Poetry Thursday was a weekly poetry project that I created and then co-ran with another blogger back in 2006-2007. The site is no longer online.

april 12

A year ago today, I lost one of my dearest friends. My grandmother. As the flowers bloom everywhere, as Spring reminds me that the circle of life continues, as I give myself the space to grieve and laugh and cry, as I wish with every fiber of my being that I could hold her hand, as I say with conviction that the pain is not any less, as I cannot believe that I have not talked to her in over a year, as I wish I could rewind and hear her laugh loudly, as I remember that through the grief her death invites me to experience I might be finding myself, I put the words I read at her funeral out into the world once again.

I had some time in the Atlanta Airport to write down a few things that mean Grandma to me. Grandma is:

the smell of Pond's Cold Cream, hummingbirds, walks around her yard as she points out what is growing and blooming, knee-high nylons rolled down around her ankles and cropped pants before they were back in style, cranberry juice, cherrios stuffed with peanut butter to make little tiny sandwiches, stubbornness, jumping on the bed, walks on the beach in the early morning so you could find the best shells, a book lover, always there when I need to laugh, cry and cry some more, chasing each other around the kitchen to put ice cubes down each other's shirts, beautiful, Spring, lily of the valley, forsythia, little notes in the mail, sugar cookies and date pinwheels, sloppy joes, trips to one price clothing, how she always remembers the littlest things you like-for me-warm socks, riding Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, when I call - Grandpa saying "I bet you want to talk to your Grandma" and then her voice saying "hello," sitting outside in the sun drinking pink lemonade, my oldest friend, crotchety at times but also honest, dependable, and silly and that sense of humor and indescribable strength, a safe haven, my mom saying "your Grandma is a bit of a stinker," so very smart, how proud she is of her children and grandchildren, gardening, the moments when her patience could be infinite - her children may not have seen this but her grandchildren did every now and then, cooking tips, relationship advice, how important the birthdays of others were to her, her amazing memory, her smile. A wife, mother, grandmother and friend. We all have our own memories and these are just a few I could let myself reflect on. I think something we all know is that with Grandma, what you see is what you get. She was always Real and didn't shy away from her convictions.

A Storyperson by Brian Andreas
Landscape of the Heart
It is still so new and all we see is the empty
space, but that is not how it is in the landscape of the heart.
There, there is no empty space and she still laughs
and grapples with ideas and plans
and nods wisely with each of us in turn.
We are proud to have known her.
We are proud to have called her friend.

Thank you Grandma.
Thank you for teaching me and for always, always being you.
Now Grandma, listen closely. Your husband wants you to know how much you are loved. By him, by your children, by your grandchildren, and your friends.

Peace to you my friend.

Day 4 continued

Saturday morning of my ArtFest adventure brough a workshop with Anahata Katkin. I was happy to have a few people from my previous workshops in my class and I finally got to really connect with Elizabeth.

In the morning, we went down to the beach to create nature altars (as I described in my previous post). Here is a picture of mine.

After we finished we walked to each person's altar. Each of us shared what we wanted to about creating the altar, what it represented, and so on. It was beautiful. There is so much more I could share about this morning...but for right now, the sacredness of the experience needs to stay there on the beach as I continue to soak it all in and realize all that I have learned.

After lunch, we met up again to create a mixed-media piece inspired by our altar. Anahata had us each take a polaroid picture of our altar on the beach so we would have something to work from.

This was a very inspiring class, but I was out of my comfort zone for the entire time. Until, really, the last few minutes of class. I am getting used to this idea of building layers in a piece. I am so mystified that I am actually creating something and I fall in love with the "background." I forget that I am creating texture for the piece and not the actual finished piece. (This problem has followed me home. I love the techniques I learned at ArtFest, but I am still not able to move forward from the background sometimes.) We used inks, water-soluble oil pastels, gesso as a paint layer, charcoal, and other things that I had never used in this way. I felt frozen for a good part of the class. That feeling of wanting to jump out of my own skin. I described my internal self talk in last week's SPT post. By the end of class though, I found my words. I wrote about what was going on in my mind. And then I realized I could use the lines that the dripped black ink had created on my page as lines for more words. Suddenly I was moving quickly, letting go, finding my way. Of course, time was up then...

I am still not done with this, but here is how it looks right now.

The words across the page:
The beauty of the fear is that anything you do will be the right thing. To do nothing is to stay in the frozen moment. To do something, to move, is to live.

Saturday night brought show and tell and the end of ArtFest. I was able to spend more time with Kelly, talk with a few other new friends, and have one more conversation with Kristi Steiner.

I take a breath. My heart has grown. How blessed I am to have had this experience. I am forever changed.

senses. artfest day 4, morning.

{feel}
i reach down into the sand and feel the smooth rocks of all different shapes and sizes. i turn a round one over and over in my hand. the air is cold against my face. rain drops onto my head, cheeks, nose, shoulders. i reach down again and pick up a rock with a sea plant attached to it...long dead. the rock and plant together look like a human heart. a human heart. i feel the sand as it sticks to my fingers. i rub them together trying to remove some of it. then i feel the cold water as i put my fingertips in to wet them and wash them off. the rain again falling on my head, my nose. as i find the spot to build my altar, i decide to put my fleece gloves on. instantly, my hands are warmed.

{smell}
i take a breath and inhale the dampness and the cold of the fresh, wide, open air of the sea. at some point, i am so cold that my nose starts to run. i smell very little during this adventure.

{taste}
as i work on my altar, i pause to take a drink of water. the clean taste of the water cleanses my palette and my mind. just for a moment.

{hear}
the water laps quietly as the small waves roll in and out. seagulls cry around me. high in the sky. along the edge of the water behind me. i am far enough away from everyone else that i do not hear any human voices. as i move rocks, i hear my own breath as some of them are heavy. one makes a loud curplunk down onto the sand as i move it yet again and drop it. i walk back down to the water and hear myself gasp as i find another rock that looks like a heart. this time in the shape of a typical heart. later i hear a voice. though no one is around. the voice answers a question i have just thought aloud in my head.

{see}
the beauty of the beach at fort worden. low tide. so much to see. rocks, plants, kelp, shells, empty bodies that once had crabs within them, sea gulls, people, water, islands, seagrass, the twisty shapes of medrona tress, a pair of ducks, so many colors within all of this sea life. oranges, pinks, greens, greys, whites, blacks, purples, greens, reds. as i walk, i pick up the pieces that draw me in. the rocks, shells, plants. i find a spot that is to be my spot for the next hour or so. the place where i will create a nature altar. i first draw in the wet sand, but i can't find what appeals to me. i look to the right and see another large rock that almost have a cave underneath it. i move to it and look around. as i find a few larger rocks to add to my little pile, i decide to stack them. i also create little pile of multi-colored rocks.

then an idea comes to me and i create a circle of black rocks that all look alike around this stack of rocks. on top of the stack goes my human heart rock. this is me. in the sea of things that are alike, i feel lost and alone and stripped down to my heart. i move the heavy large rock that has a little indentation in it where water has pooled...i move it to the left of this little mountain i have created. and i put some little plants in this small pool on the top of this rock. and i create a circle around this big rock. a circle of all the little things that i have picked up as i walked to this spot. the small rocks of all different colors, little plants, funny fuzzy stuff that looks like hair but is really a sea plant, shells of all different sizes. the heart sees this land of funny creatures and wants to be a part of it. so i must figure out a way to get it there. i try to build a bridge but it does not seem to work or to be the right addition to this altar. how will this heart rock climb off of this mountain? i think to myself, "i don't know how to get there. how will i get across this valley between the two?"

{and know}
when you suddenly hear a voice say, "you have wings," take a breath and hold on. you are about to visit places you only let yourself dream about...

bloom

I am off to Seattle for my yoga teacher training weekend (I do come home at the end of the day each day). I can't believe we are done in June. People begin to share their projects today, so it will be a day of learning all new aspects of yoga and the meditative life. (I don't share my project until next month. Phew.)

And yes, more on ArtFest soon. Thank you all for your kind comments and for reading that entire long post!

This is a picture of the tulips Jonny brought with him when he came to stay with me at the B&B in Port Townsend last weekend. They are from our yard.
The tulips really know how to BLOOM this year. Incredible.
We have jars of them all around our house now and they are all blooming like this. And every jar has one little wayward tulip (seriously, it is so much fun) trying to get a new view out the window or of the room it is in.

Take a breath. Open up. And bloom.
This is the phrase that keeps running across my mind.

What would happen if we let ourselves bloom like these gorgeous tulips?
What are you afraid of? What is stopping you?

artfest {day 3}

This post is a bit on the long side. So please, settle in with a cup of tea and pretend we are sitting at my kitchen table and enjoying the little mason jar of tulips that sits there as we sip our tea and eat some cookies. And then I start telling you about ArtFest. Day 3.

Friday brought another early morning. This time I worked on my altered book in my little room at the B&B. Being a morning person during these first two mornings was fun (but it quickly ended on Saturday).

My workshop was with Claudine Hellmuth. I was excited to take a class with someone with such a following, someone who has honed her skills and found her niche. Claudine showed us some techniques and then let us get to it. And I had a lot of fun just playing. I learned some great new paint techniques (like spreading a surface with elmer's glue and then painting over it. as it dries, it cracks in some very cool ways). This class was a different experience for me. How to explain. We were to bring photocopies of some black and white pictures. I took this to mean old photos (and that is what most people brought). However, to me, this meant bringing pictures that had meaning for me. So I brought several pictures of my relatives (grandparents, great-great grandmothers, and so on). Because of this, I had a little trouble figuring out what to do. I had this idea to create something for my mother. The words came to me as I was painting the cigar box we were using as a shadow box (the picture below makes this a bit clearer), but then I realized I didn't have the photo I needed. I decided that I would have to wait on creating that piece for my mom. So, I decided to use a picture of my grandmother with her grandmother (so my great-great grandmother who lived to be 102. I was born on her birthday). My grandma was a little girl in the picture. I was very stuck on this idea of creating something as a tribute to them. Because of that, I didn't know where to go. Claudine's pieces are so whimsical. And I didn't feel the whimsy. Until I thought, "what if my grandmother is holding flowers in the piece?" Then it all came together. I have to admit that I am very proud of this finished product and think these little boxes make great gifts. I need to fix the way my great-great grandmother is sagging just a bit here (sorry ella), but overall, I just love it!

After the workshop, Kelly and I connected and went to the Art Asylum room. She started working on the second canvas from her workshop (check out the finished product here - I LOVE it), and I worked on my altered book. As we were working, Jennifer Louden and her friend (Barbara I believe) came in and were commenting on how we were such die hards working after our workshops. It was funny. I knew it was Jennifer right away, but I wasn't about to start gushing "oh I love your books! I read your blog!" and so on because I feel like "famous" people deserve their space. We ran into each other again at Vendor Night...and I had a class with her the next day (more on that class soon!). It was a treat to be able to connect with her, hear about her radio show, and the amazing workshops/retreats she is offering in the Seattle area.

That evening, Jonny arrived. Because I was already paying for my B&B room and because his spring break started that day, he drove up to Port Townsend to join me. It was great to have him with me for this last part of ArtFest. It was nice to have someone to talk to about the experience as I went to bed the last two nights. And I am so glad he arrived in time for Vendor Night because I never could have described it to him in a way that would do it justice. But I am going to try right now.

Vendor Night. Imagine, a room filled with 400+ people who are all so happy to be connecting with one another and discovering new art and connecting with the artists who created each piece. I am not sure how many vendors there were (maybe 50?), but they were all incredible. I was just sparkling with the joy of seeing all of this amazing art and connecting with these beautiful people. Kelly, Jon, and I had so much fun wandering, looking, and BUYING!
Some highlights:

I bought this beautiful piece from the sweet and kind Tracie Lyn Huskamp. I felt an immediate connection with Tracie and her work. It was wonderful. Check out her site and explore the world of this amazing creative soul. (the words on the piece: Let me share the love and favor of the few who know me best, And I'll spend my time contended. This just simply summed up how I felt the entire weekend. I knew it was mine. And she knew it too as we talked and laughed and connected.)

Then I found a funny little pile of pendants on one table. I thought they were all beautiful, so I looked through them all. And suddenly I gasped out loud and started tearing up. I grabbed Jon's arm. "Look," I said. His mouth dropped open just a little bit. He said, "It is perfect." The joy of having someone just get you. And know. Yes. This is perfect. It says everything for me. And the shell, the little turquoise dot, flowers, the words. I said to the artist, Heide Murray, "you didn't know it at the time, but you made this just for me." I am wearing it all the time.

Traci Bautista had a great booth. I purchased some words and some fabric. I would love to take a workshop with her some time. And I can't wait to read her new book. I also bought a fun bag of ephemera from Amber Gibbs of Queen of Tarts Stamps.

Then I discovered the wonderful art journals of Randi Feuerhelm. I bought her incredible decks of cards with her artwork on one side and tips for art journaling and altered photo ideas on the other (if either of these topics intrigue you, I really suggest getting a set. they are fantastically fun!). Again, I felt a connection with her right away - it was great to talk with her. I can't wait to dive into all these ideas she shares and start creating. It will be like taking little mini-workshops with her!

Finally, I came across Theo Ellsworth. I stood there in awe as I turned the pages of his capacity zines. This boy (okay, I say boy because he just seemed like he could be one of my brother's friends...and my brother is still my baby brother even though he turns 25...that's right, 25 people! next week) has one of the deepest spirits of anyone I have ever met. You just get this right away. Reading his work and looking into his eyes. He just gets it. Life. Living in this life. The pain. The beauty. The joy. The grief. He just gets it. I was reminded of the first time I looked at Brian Andreas' work over ten years ago and laughed and cried and knew I had found someone who understood my soul. This is how I felt reading Theo's work. Jon agreed. We bought all six issues and can't wait until he unveils #7 on his website.

By the time I got to Tracy and Teesha's booth I was happy that a) all the people were starting to leave so I could actually get to their table and b) they took credit card! I found some incredible stamps and had such fun talking to Tracy, learning more tips from him. Such a kind open heart he seems to have. And the quotes on these stamps...I would love to just sit and talk with the two of them for hours and just say thank you. Thank you for sharing all that you know so that I can know that I am not alone.

Other artists who spoke to my soul that evening (but my pocketbook could not come up with anymore money...one day): Carla Sonheim (an amazing tender woman; the little girls she creates are just gorgeous), Annie Lewis, Kathy Welsh, Laurie Mika, LK Ludwig, and Keely Barnham (I bought her incredible zine, Stray Stitches, just to revel in the beauty of her inspiring work). Several of these women teach workshops, so I hope to learn from them some day. (There were others, really, I was inspired by everyone, but these were the cards that I picked up.)

Kelly and I shared show and tell in the car (because everything was closed in downtown Port Townsend). Then Jon and I went back to the B&B where I talked his ear off for another couple of hours. Then off to sleep with dreams of Ganesha (really, I dreamed of the Hindu elephant god that night).

Thank you for reading this long post, you dear people from all over the world who stop at my blog (now that I have site meter I know you are out there. I don't know you but I appreciate you stopping by for tea). I said to Jon, "look at how long this post is." He replied, "People are going to be reading a very tiny book." It just made me laugh.

Yes, there really are (at least) two more installments of this adventure (I haven't written them yet...but they will come). But, I promise to pepper in some shorter posts too (hee, hee).

poetry thursday

Poem Without a Category

Trailing my stick I go down to the garden edge,
call to a monk to go out the pine gate.
A cup of tea with my mother,
looking at each other, enjoying our tea together.
In the deep lanes, few people in sight;
the dog barks when anyone comes or goes.
Fall floods have washed away the planks of the bridge;
shouldering our sandals, we wade the narrow stream.
By the roadside, a small pavilion
where there used to be a little hill:
it helps out our hermit mood;
country poems pile one sheet on another.
I dabble at the flow, delighted by the shallowness of the stream,
gaze at the flagging, admiring how firm the stones are.
The point in life it to know what's enough—
why envy those otherworld immortals?
With the happiness held in one inch-square heart
you can fill the whole space between heaven and earth.

Gensei (1623-1668), translated by Burton Watson
(from the book The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry edited by Stephen Mitchell)

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I have been reading the poem Revolutionary Dreams by Nikki Giovanni over and over for the last few months (it is from the book The Women and The Men). And as I read it, I wished I could hear Ms. Giovanni read it out loud to the world. I decided to see if she has a website, and she does. If you click over to it and then go down to multimedia, you can hear her read a few of her poems. You too can attend a poetry reading from your own bed, still in your pajamas, with your laptop on your lap.

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Happy Thursday everyone!
If you have shared a poem on your blog today, please leave a comment so people can find your blog. (And if you want to be added to the list of regular participants, please email me.) Thank you for sharing poetry...
Blessings to you all.

artfest {day 2}

Back to ArtFest. Day 2.
Thursday morning I woke up bright and early. So early that I actually had time to relax before heading over the Fort Worden and had time to read the next chapter in my current book (The Year of Magical Thinking). It was nice to just take time to sit and drink coffee and read (with no TV, telephone, or email to distract me).

My Thursday workshop was To Map the Treasure of My Heart with Kristin Steiner. Reading the description of this class is what pushed me over the edge to sign up for ArtFest:
"Our creativity is most authentic when it comes from the heart of who we are. Do you know what provides the source of your most genuine creative impulses? With a few simple, non-scary writing exercises, you will come to clearly see what lies at the core of your creative treasure chest. Uncover the themes, colors, collections and longings residing deep within. Then document each discovery in this tiny altered board book."

I will never be able to do the experience justice, but here it is: this workshop changed my life. It is that simple and that wide and that real and that true.

Kristi created an amazing atmosphere where people felt safe to create, play, learn, laugh, and share. We took a children's board book and began to create our own altered book. We learned about dying fabric (this was my first time working with fabric) and using walnut ink (my first time working with inks) to age things. Oh how much fun this was. I learned how to make a simple cut and rip fabric - I mean really, for someone who can't cut straight lines, this was like a dream come true.

But it was the invitation to find the words. This is what changed my life. Kristi had us write. First about our fears. So much came up for me, but I just had this little tiny piece of ledger paper to write them on. And they poured from me. Getting them out was huge. Later, she had us write about the colors, textures, obsessions, collections, longings, trademarks that speak to us, that make us who we are. To pull the adjectives from our hearts and minds. What are we drawn to. One thing became quite clear to me: I am drawn to words...to phrases...to the stories that vibrate in my soul.

As we worked, I stumbled over my fears (what if I do it wrong?) but did my best to just let it all go and play. One of the neatest things we did was create a little altar to our creative younger selves. I used a picture of me that I stumbled across last week. I just love it. Me as a litle girl with a big smile on my face.

At the end of the class, Kristi had us write an accounting on the back of that little piece of ledger paper. How to explain? A way to hold ourselves accountable for what we do, this creative life that we lead, to own it all. To own our part of the experience. The way that Kristi just gets it - how she puts her heart out there so we can learn from her - this touched me so much. Throughout the day, as she spoke about her own experiences as an artist, I often felt the little pinpricks of tears on the backs of my eyeballs. Yes. Yes. Yes. I kept thinking this over and over. I am not alone. There are other people out there who get me. Who get it. Who understand. As she said the words, "what do you own?" I put my pen to the paper and wrote. The gist of it was that I own that through the grief I have experienced I am finding who I really am. It took this grief to bring me to this place where I could be quiet enough to hear the whispers of the little girl inside me who wants to create, live, love, dance, and laugh. (As I write this, I am watching the last few minutes of the movie My Life. Oh how this movie makes me cry and cry. I try not to watch it because it hits me in the gut (for many reasons, one of which is that when I saw it in the theatre, I was with my dad and he cried during it - at the time it was one of two times I had ever seen him cry). The last time I watched it was 10 years ago, after my parents divorced. But what a good movie it is. And perfect for these emotions that roll down my face.)

After we finished writing, Kristi asked us to share a page of our book and something that we own. These amazing brave women shared a little piece of their stories. It was beautiful. And after I shared my thoughts about the little girl, someone said that they felt the same way. That their little girl is waking up too. And Kristi said to me that she believes that we find healing in finding our creative selves.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

I learned so much about myself in this class. I did not want to leave. I could have taken a week long workshop with Kristi. She touched my heart with her integrity and honesty and heartfelt teaching. I have a secret hope to participate in a retreat she is leading with another teacher in September. I hope that my life and the stars align in such a way that I can...

After the class, Kelly and I met up to share what we had learned. It was so great to have someone to connect with after this amazing day.

Later that evening, we went to a gathering where people were writing in their art journals. We spent about three hours pouring over the pages of Teesha and Tracy's journals and asking questions of other artists. And talking, talking, talking to each other. I was energized and inspired by these amazing artists and their journals. This is a way to come to the page and let go. This is a way to tackle that inner critic with vengence. This is a way to have fun. I bought a book kit at vendor night (more on vendor night - the crazy amazing vendor night - in another post), so I can create my own journal. I am drawn to the idea of prepping the pages before binding the book together. To get rid of that dreaded blank white page. I can't wait!!!

(I will post pictures of my little altered book. But I want to finish it first. I have my words...the most important part to me...now I just need to put in all the little touches that give it its character. Stay tuned my friends, stay tuned.)