Author Archives: wayaclan

Poems — Jul 2013

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These poems are drafts, not final versions, and are not meant to be shared outside this website. Thank you.

Selected Poems

130731

EDITING BREAKS

Walks are pleasant interludes
that help a writer unwind;
they fill the senses, ease the eyes,
work the body, rest the mind—
unless, of course, a muse intrudes
(an even pleasanter surprise).

 

130728b

WAYLESS FARER

When young, I sought
the holy thrills:
sacred waters, sacred hills;
incense, candles, chants, and beads;
meditations, sermons, creeds.

The wayless way, though, has no map.
Spiritual trappings can be a trap,
yet, still I seek the holy thrills;
not nine to five,
not paying bills.

 

130723

MARY CHOSE

Mary was a lily.
She didn’t spin or sew.

Mary chose
the path of heart,
the choicest path she knew.

Mary chose
the highest art;
Mary chose the better part.

 

130721b

DOING OKAY?

Love your loved ones
before they’re gone.

Often, to look out for
means to look in on.

 

130721d

DEAR ONE,

Oooooooh—
Yoooooou!

 

130720a

DAY AND NIGHT DREAMS

Why should magic by day—
     coincidences,
          serendipities,
               delusions—
     differ from magic by night?

Are they not both
     sleights-of-mind—
          illusions?

 

130720b

HEARTENED

Love
     is the treasure,
     the storehouse,
     the key.
All “open secrets”
     it opens to me.

 

130719

DISCIPLE

Discipline—I surely need it.
But discipline at what?

 

130715

A NIGHT SO RARE

Coral east, magenta west, and golden hues on high—
seen between these billows, an indigo-washed sky.
These twilight luminosities gradually adjourn
as half-moon and her entourage take the stage in turn.

Starry-silver overhead and firefly-gold below
grace the evening darkness as spring-like breezes blow.
Frogs and crickets serenade with query and reply:
“What’s so rare as a day in June, if not this night in July?”

 

130713

OFFER AND NON-ACCEPTANCE

Thank you
for the opportunity.
Apparently, I don’t want it.

I’m working on
fear of poverty just now,
and I won’t blunt it.

 

130712a

THE ULTIMATE DEATH

I must sing my death song,
for nothing may remain
but surrender.

Everything false, everything
unreal, everything off the mark,
must extinguish—no exceptions.

But the world that is judging me—
that is dying too.

 

130712b

DEAR SELF,

I see that you’re in trouble
(mostly because you think
you’re a special case).

I have remedies
(but even I hope
you can pull this off).

—Your Inner Guide

 

130710b

IN CONGRUITY

After you’re saved
or enlightened,
there still is more to do,
amounting to the difference
between finding truth
and staying true.

 

130710d

MIRAGES ALL

We can ONLY love
un-condition-ally,
because, with love,
there is none.

 

130710f

FULL SPECTRUM

You are like
what you most desire
and what you most despise.
Know this and be wise.

 

130710h

OPTICAL COLLUSION

I wake and open eyes
to marvel at the sky’s
enchanted view . . .

Some playful trick of mind
has made the white-on-blue
seem suds-on-sea, I find.

Is every pain or bliss
a how-seen trick like this?

 

130710j

OVERWHELMING RESPONSE

Let me, please, attest:
the thing that you do best
because you make request
of muse or other such—
that very spark or touch
sets up creative flow.

At first, you feel so blessed!
But that’s before you know
the stream has undertow . . .
quite soon it takes you down
and you begin to drown
by being blessed so much.

I affirm that this is so—
because, with poetry, I know.

 

130708

“BE” ATTITUDE

This tree is meditating
just like me—
well, far better.

How efficient it is:
no wasted energy,
no fighting the wind,
no distress over its
limitations. (I’m guessing 
no awareness of any).

It simply takes available
energy and elements
and turns them into tree.

It communes too, answering
my request for advice
by being the way it is.

 

130704

THAT CLIPPY THING

I couldn’t remember its name, briefly,
although I knew full well how it worked
and what I could use it for.

Even when the word surfaced,
it seemed odd: clothespin.
This one was plastic, not wooden;
maybe that made a difference.

But the difference at which
I really thrilled was this:
appraising a thing nameless, wordless.

I like that feeling.
I hope it sticks with me.

 

130703

BAND OF MISFITS

Each of us is at odds
with our culture in some way,
each an outsider.
But that’s how we are alike,
how we are united,
how we are one.

 

130701

FINAL FRONTIER

I want to be
completely free—
meaning,
even free from me.

 

* * *

Favorable Weather for Lettering

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The Poet Writes Large

For over a week, the weather here has been extra cool and wet. Today started off rainy and the high was in the mid-90’s. That worked in my favor as I labored outdoors applying vinyl letters and graphics to a storefront. I don’t have photos of the process but can share the proposed design I gave to the owner:

Motorplex signage design

My husband’s mechanic friend is starting a shop of his own. When I first visited, the only signage was a small banner, barely visible from the highway. I expressed concern about James’s business being overlooked for that reason, and Ethan said, “If you can come up with something better, why don’t you make a proposal.” Long story short, James agreed to my design suggestion and even invited me to do the work.

I wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity like that, even though I’m not a professional signmaker. I bought the vinyl, made the patterns, cut the letters, and planned the installation. Today the installation took almost six hours. I was learning on the job … and I loved every minute.

Solving craftsmanship issues was the most satisfying … how best to clean glass, make measurements, position graphics, use tools, etc. After a few ruined letters, I learned to wet the surfaces and properly use a squeegee. Another important lesson was that the orange vinyl, being translucent, lost brightness when removed from its white backing and placed on a dark window. Also, letters that looked enormous at close range seemed smaller than expected at a distance.

How appreciative I am to James for entrusting me with the work and for showing his delight when it was done. I got a big thumbs up … and a big hug too.

DREAMING ON

If I had my druthers,
I’d play at work all day,
designing entertaining things,
for those who’d want to pay.

And, to find these others,
I wouldn’t have to shout,
or pay for ads, or dance and sing,
for they would seek me out.

I had a red-letter day awhile back when I started this blog. Today was an orange-letter day. I took advantage of fun opportunities to write both large (the signage) and small (this blog). Very satisfying. ♥~Jo

* * *

My Nature is Natural

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Treasure Hunter

IMG_3182a Cabela bagI took two plastic shopping bags with me on my walk this morning, just in case. I’d been carrying rocks home all week for edging a flowerbed … and carrying them by hand. Bags might be more “handy.”

Ever alert to treasures—in the child’s sense of the word—I noticed ferns, tree bark, caterpillars, a turtle and a hawk, clouds, flowers, large and small stones, and … a trash bag. New. It wasn’t there yesterday. That surprise started an internal dialogue:

– Pick it up.
– What for? I already have trash bags with me.
– It’s serendipity. Pick it up. You’ll find out later why.
– Oh, please. That’s silly … just magical thinking.
– Yes, exactly. Pick it up.
– But WHY?!
– You’ll SEE why.

IMG_3183a Cabela bag


I picked it up.

Picking up on serendipities is my nature—the WHY was now self-evident, like a Declaration of Independence truth. [By the way, the bag is from Cabela’s, the outdoors outfitter. Some other person is currently enjoying these woods. Good to know.]

I returned home with three shopping bags unfilled. But I did not return empty-handed, meaning empty-hearted:

HEARTENED

Love
is the treasure,
the storehouse,
the key.
All “open secrets”
it opens to me.

The fruits of my treasure-hunting expedition are that poem and another. The second is about magical coincidences and the relativity of reality:

DAY DREAMS

Why should magic by day—
     coincidences,
          serendipities,
               delusions—
differ from magic by night?

Are they not both
     sleights-of-mind?
          Illusions?

IMG_3156a road curve


Epilogue. My partner just came home from a hard and hot day’s work.After supper, he relaxed in a chair and asked me to tell him a story, just a child might at bedtime. I related all the adventures of my treasure hunt, including visits with neighbors. I take it as a compliment that he drifted off to sleep.

I spared you many of the treasure-hunt episodes in today’s writing and will fill you in later. Or not … depending on serendipities and further wonders. May you have many. ~ ♥Jo

 

* * *

The Truly Great Outdoors

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Surprised by Beauty

Outdoors, when I look around, I always find surprises—something new, something never-noticed, or something that contradicts my expectations.

Fence Rail

Yesterday it was a large bee that inspected me several times from head to knee as I prepared to stretch at a fence-rail barre.After her inspection, the bee bumped around and into the rail a few times, including the bottom side. I concluded that she was a carpenter bee heading home. How smart to bore a hole in a place like that and create a wooden roof overhead.

Yellowed Leaves

Again and again, I am surprised by beauty—such as leaves on a broken branch turning color prematurely or Queen Anne’s lace shadowed on asphalt.

IMG_3161 Queen Anne shadows

Recently I noticed the latest in a series of hickory nuts that had fallen to the pavement. The first ones appeared about two weeks ago, and the nuts have been getting larger as the hickory crop matures. So far, the insides of the nuts have not been eaten, just exposed.

TO EACH THING A SEASONIMG_3157a hickory nut

Already in early summer, yellowed
leaves and tree debris find their way
to the ground, whether by weather,
insect, bird, or squirrel.

An occasional small hickory nut— 
gnawed open but uneaten, and
found on the pavement—testifies
that squirrels have been honing
their safe-cracking skills in advance.

Many things can be hurried,
many cannot; and many things seem
falsely premature or delayed.
But all is in order, and even the skill of
discerning this must ripen in its own time.

Beautiful surprises are life’s real poems. My words here are primarily records of my appreciation . . . love letters to this lovely world. ♥ ~Jo

* * *

Captivated

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It’s More   (?)   , Y’All!

Newspapers as mulch . . . that was the edging treatment I had just put down beside our front deck. When I watered it with a hose to keep it in place, this little fellow hopped out. He courteously stayed put while I went inside, located my camera, installed its memory card, and returned.

Frog

Froggie may have been captivated by the honky-tonk ad on which he’s sitting, wondering if bull-riding has anything to do with bullfrogs. (I was certainly captivated by him.)

Actually, the local watering hole is on the other side of the house …  a set of fountains where local toads gather for croaking duels each night. This guy looks like a city slicker in comparison, but I hope he sticks around and can fit in. Then we can find out WHAT it’s more of, Y’all!  ♥ ~Jo

* * *

Observing and Musing

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My Daily Walk

I live uphill from a lake and my daily walk usually takes me to it or near it. One route takes me down a hill, alongside the water, and eventually to a boat ramp. The other begins on gravel then shifts to pavement, winding fairly level till the end when it takes a downward incline to a hideaway vacation compound. From its entryway surveillance sign, I can see lake water ahead.

Daily Walk Route

Both routes are scenic, but the second tends to be more private and shaded. I often encounter hawks, deer, squirrels, turtles, and other creatures on that road or in the woods alongside it. And I have plenty of time to observe and muse.

“In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.”
– John Muir

Yesterday I had my camera with me and photographed a word that had been spray-painted word on the pavement by a utility worker. That word figured in one of last week’s walks and poems:

MOMENTOUS

Most people I know
are Superglued to their beliefs.
I’d rather set mine free
to drift downstream, paper boats.

“Where are the others like me?”
I wondered aloud yesterday
to no entity in particular …
“Where is my family?”

I happened to be walking “alone”
on a paved country road.
Some utility company, I noticed,
had spray-painted cryptic guidelines
at its edge—along with the
single word “LOCATE.”

My answer came, as a knowing,
in that one moment.

 Locate Sign

 

In other words, Kindred Spirit, I now have my radar out for you.  ♥ ~Jo

 

Writing, Spirituality, and Marketing

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Starting to Get Ready to Begin.

Last night I listened to a webinar about ebook writing and promotion. Is it intimidation, sour grapes, or what that I feel so alien toward speedwriting, keyword orienting, list building, joint venture partnering, upselling, and similar concepts? The overarching concept of the presentation was marketing … with emphasis on ecommerce.

eBook Button

As I search for my own resonance in this arena, it helps to recall this favorite analysis:

Selling is getting rid of what you have.
Marketing is having what you can get rid of.

 

As for poetry and spiritual musings … are there people who want that? And is it counter-productive (for lack of a better word) to combine those two things with marketing?

I’m grateful to authors who did that combining. I also sometimes wonder if their books, articles, videos, workshops, and counselling are—”bottom line”—spiritually positive, negative, or neutral. If the real orientation of spirituality is to go within, do these methods spur or stall?

My assumption is that it ultimately doesn’t matter … and that Life is operating through me to do what it wants. Yesterday’s poem seems apropos:

DEAR SELF,

I see that you’re in trouble,
mostly because you think
you’re a special case.

I have remedies.

But even I hope
you can pull this off.

—Your  Inner Guide

I also pondered yesterday about a God who pondered creating the universe. Why? What would be the enticement? I decided it wouldn’t be for worshippers or passive companions. It would be for playmates, as in a great cosmic game of hide-and-seek.

Go! ...You’re IT!  ♥ ~Jo

* * *

[Photo by Wallyir of morgueFile]

Red-Letter Day

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Ten Poems Today!

Digital Ten

That’s a record, I do believe. Malcolm Gladwell (the author) might say such productivity derives from the ten thousand I already wrote. It certainly doesn’t hurt to ask a higher power for help … with anything … or everything.

At any rate, here is number ten. After posting its text, I retire for the day. The sharing is the culmination of the whole endeavor and I’m glad you’re here to receive it, whenever.

OVERWHELMING RESPONSE

Let me, please, attest:
the thing that you do best
because you make request
of muse or other such—
that very spark or touch
sets up creative flow.

At first, you feel so blessed!
But that’s before you know
the stream has undertow . . .
quite soon it takes you down
and you begin to drown
by being blessed so much.

I affirm that this is so—
because, with poetry, I know.

Good night, and may your creativity be exactly as abundant as you desire.  ♥ ~Jo

* * *

[Photo by Alvimann of morgueFile]

Joint Explorations

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Why this Website? Why Poetry?

They both have the same prompt: Oprah.
Poetry is a response to a life-mission remark she made. The website is a response to her recently-issued “Grow Your Life” challenge. In 150 words or less, entrants told which of their dream(s) they most wanted to advance. From the submissions, a winner will be chosen to have lunch with Oprah in Hawaii.

Machu PicchuI resonated with the challenge and entered, via a poem. (Creativity will figure strongly in the judging.) The dream I described has two parts: to fulfill a long-cherished wish to visit Machu Picchu, the ancient sacred city in Peru, and to combine that wish with my everyday poetry. I envision approaching the Inca site from a spiritual perspective, recording the experience in an art-and-poetry journal.

The website is a further outcome of my spirituality and writing liaison.

Writing Tools file00077014446

Part of my yearning and resonance is to keep very private with these joint explorations. That is counterbalanced by another part encouraging me to become more open and visible. I wonder which part invites more vulnerability, growth, and/or learning? We shall see. I already enjoy the creativity.

♥  Jo

* * *

Spiritual Trajectories

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Puzzlement and Exploration

Years ago, I was impressed by a New Yorker Magazine cartoon. In a series of panels, a person in a fog and standing on a small jigsaw-puzzle-piece ice flow makes a larger place to stand by assembling similar pieces in the water nearby. Then, as the fog lifts, he notices that other people have been doing the same thing all along. Each stranded soul has created a larger puzzle piece that can now be assembled into an even larger platform. Presumably, the people will now mingle and collaborate even more.

I think that’s how spirituality goes. So much begins as puzzlement. And subsequent  exploration seems to be done in isolation, but that isn’t so …

BAND OF MISFITS

Each of us is at odds
with our culture in some way,
each an outsider;
that’s how we are alike,
how we are united,
how we are one.

As for myself, I can’t really say I’ve been exploring on my own. Because, for so long, I’ve had books. And here I am writing, myself. Why?

It’s probably part of a trajectory I’m not even aware of. Somehow life suggested to me, a decade ago, that I write poetry. And I said yes, not suspecting that poetry would become more than a hobby or daily journal. It became a spiritual practice.(I was musing on that term earlier today: “spiritual practice.” I used to think it meant learning how to be spiritual; now I think it means actually and consciously being spiritual.)

Anyway, I now feel prompted to write here, at least for now. Not that I have “arrived” with any kind of message to share. But that I’ve begun to benefit from, rejoice in, and understudy other people who are making similar spiritual explorations. I’m glad they began to share their musings and experiences early enough that I can witness their trajectories. Most recently, I’ve resonated with the sharing that Wayne (Wirs) does through his writing, photography, and videos. THANK YOU to all my spiritual teachers, mentors, and friends.  ♥ Jo