Gerald Stern and The One Thing in Life

A month ago, I learned about the death at age 97 of poet Gerald Stern. I knew only a handful of his poems: “The Dancing,” “Waving Goodbye,” and “Stepping Out of Poetry,” but I loved those poems. They got me in the stomach, punched me with their emotion. And hearing of his passing, I knew that I needed to read more of his work. These last few weeks that is what I have been doing.

I read again “Stepping Out of Poetry” in which he reminisces about getting on “the old yellow streetcar” and going to the public library, the joy he found there: “What would you give,” he asks, “for your dream/  to be as clean and simple as it was then/ in the dark afternoons, at the old scarred tables?”

I found and read “Waving Goodbye,” about sending his daughter off to the next stage of her life, experiencing her loss “as an animal would, pressing my forehead against her/ walking in circles, moaning, touching her cheek…”

Then there is “The One Thing in Life,” a poem he considered as one which best described him and his life in poetry. Here are the last five lines:

There is a sweetness buried in my mind;
there is water with a small cave behind it;
there’s a mouth speaking Greek.
It is what I keep to myself; what I return to;
the one thing that no one else wanted.

How lucky he was to recognize that buried sweetness, to explore that small cave. How lucky for us to be able to read his poetry. And wonder about the wonderful one thing in life which exists for each of us.  –Lucy Adkins

Writing Exercise:

  1. Read “Waving Goodbye” and “Stepping Out of Poetry”
  2. Think about some people or ways of life you have said goodbye to. Jot down a few.
  3. Think about some fond remembrances of the past and list some of these.
  4. Write, beginning with the phrase “What would I give……..” Go on from there and see what happens.

For more inspiration, check out our website www.thewritingandcreativelife.com.Or follow this link to purchase our latest book, The Fire Inside.

 

 

Writing Brings Me Close to the Bone

Artist shed. Photograph by Chris Carithers

“This is what separates artists from ordinary people: the belief, deep in our hearts, that if we build our castles well enough, somehow the ocean won’t wash them away.” – Anne Lamott

How do I build my castle so part of my story doesn’t go out with the tide? Writing. Writing brings me close to the bone.

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What Are You Remembering?

On my stove the kettle whistles and suddenly I see my grandmother’s face in her tiny kitchen. A small, veined hand grasps the hot handle of an old teakettle. Grandmother is making cinnamon tea. She looks out the small window. Above the horizon, a blue mist, small and noisy songbirds. Her face turns to me.

Do dreams flow from memories or do memories become dreams? What are you remembering?

Certain images keep floating in my head and sometimes surprise me when I least suspect. Perhaps only a scrap or fragment of a long held dream resonates, but its incompleteness stirs a longing. I follow it. Maybe the inspiration is an aroma—Old Spice, a horse barn—or the prettyprettypretty sounds of a happy cardinal. Today the inspiration is a treasured photo–a black and white of Grandmother in her kitchen. Then, the whole story comes into focus.

Every year after I could walk, I spent two to three weeks in the summers on my grandparents’ farm.  A two-bedroom bungalow with a screened in sagging porch was their humble home. Two big fir trees stood as towering sentries in the front yard. All manner of wildlife homesteaded there—red squirrels, one lonely hoot owl, starlings, goldfinches, and grackles. On clear days, I would climb to the top of the tree and scout the horizon. Once, I saw a red-tailed hawk looking for mice in the cornfield—and getting one—before flapping away to the woods.   

Memory carries a strong emotional kick like walking past a playground and suddenly you’re mad again chasing Greg, the fourth grade bully, all over the school yard. These experiences are part of who we are, still inhabiting us sometimes like a summer cold that won’t go away. Experiences that are inside us beg to be freed. Remembering them can be a triumph or a challenge. What are you remembering?

Few rules existed at my grandparents’ house. Until sixth grade, Grandma let me run around without a shirt as long as Grandpa and Uncle Jim were in the field. Divine pleasures. I could eat as many Washington cherries as I wanted from the two trees in the back orchard. My fingers stained bright red. The hay loft was my secret place and it was there I became a little headstrong. No one climbed the ladder to the loft without my permission. Of course not many people asked, but I was always ready waiting for a special knock or the magic word for them to enter.

What are you remembering?

Writing/Creative Exercise:

  1. Write or create about a treasured object. Take a walk through your house or, perhaps, in your yard. Reflect on two or three objects that you love. For each, consider the history, who gave it to you, what it means to you. Consider its shape, color or place where it belongs. Then, select one that is the most evocative and express your creativity through painting, photography or whatever stirs you.
  2. Read Photo Album by Meenakski Iyer https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1187839/photo-album/Everyone has certain images that keep floating in their heads. How do we prime these and let them reveal themselves? Begin by scanning through an old photo album of people in your lives. What did they mean to you, to another? What were some of the special stories about them? What do you remember? Select two or three that resonates with you. Choose one. Consider using this line as a starter sentence: It was a day I’ll never forget or She/he had a face of _______. If you’d rather, choose a line that works for you. Then write, repeating the line several times throughout your poem or prose.

For more inspiration, check out our website www.thewritingandcreativelife.com.Or follow this link to purchase our latest book, The Fire Inside.

 

 

 

 

Want to Consider Collaboration?

Ever think about collaborating with another writer or artist on a creative project? Wonder how it works? Bryan Collins, host of the “Become a Writer Today” Podcast recently interviewed Becky and me about our collaboration on our two books, Writing in Community and The Fire Inside. We had an intriguing conversation which provided an opportunity for us to think more about collaboration, how it worked successfully for us, and how a collaborative partner can help you to accomplish more–and better!

You may want to know:
How does the collaborative process work?
What are the advantages?
How do you find a collaborative partner?

You can listen to the interview (or view the transcript of it) here.

For more inspiration, check out our website www.thewritingandcreativelife.com.

Or follow this link to purchase our latest book, The Fire Inside.

Father on Father’s Day: Caretaker of the Earth

We come and go, but the land is always here, and the people who love it and understand it are the people who own it – for a little while.—Willa Cather

Father’s role was caretaker of the earth.

 

Although my father was a private person, his beliefs were evident in his role as caretaker of the earth—as if it were holy; and the many ways he applied the wisdom of nature to his life. He didn’t just think about how he valued the planet, he lived out that basic precept in his activities of each day. Coming from the old school of farming, he knew that all things mattered, that the world consisted of intricate, interwoven elements and he was a caretaker of that design.

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Blue Horses: Saying the Unsayable

Blue Horses

One Christmas I received as a gift the Mary Oliver book, Blue Horses, and was absolutely blown away by it. First of all because of Mary Oliver’s writing which I’ve admired for ages, and secondly, because of the book cover. This features a painting of four horses, their forms rounded and graceful, all looking to the left as if something interesting is there. A fox or a dog returning their gaze, perhaps, or a person. The horses are beautiful and blue, the background in shades of yellow, spangled with stars, as are the horses themselves, their heads and bodies starry.  So whether the horses are of the earth or the heavens, we are not sure.

Franz Marc
The painting is by Franz Marc, an expressionist painter and part of the “Blue Riders” group of artists in Germany in the early 1900’s. Marc was talented and influential, but his career was cut short after serving in the army in World War I. In 1916, flying shrapnel struck him in the temple and he was killed instantly. He was just 36 years old.

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Mother on Mother’s Day

Mother on Mother’s Day. How can I possibly write about her? Create something with meaning? Hold her in my heart? Mother-daughter relationships are dynamic, created and recreated over time like an artful layered painting. Our canvas, my mother’s and mine, was brushed with light and shade. Yet, I found there was richness in both.

What Do You Know: This is what I know.

I was aligned in the same orbit with her. We were intertwined with an energy force that allowed me to develop independence and Mother to see with new perspective—giving each the power and space to grow and transform. My relationship like most mother-daughter bonds was complex and layered, creased with the places and depths of our living, and filled with fragile things and other things that mattered. There was synchronicity and love between us.

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The Writing Life: Keeping the Faith

Are you a writer? A visual artist or musician? As my writing partner, Becky Breed, and I write in  The Fire Inside, we are all creative, an inner fire aflame in us, urging us on. But it is not always easy—sticking to our writing or our art–we need to keep the faith.

I believe that the longer we live the creative life, creating poems or paintings, making music, loving our work, sometimes struggling in our work, the more we realize that our art is a calling, our birthright to create. And we are in it for the long haul.

We may come to the realization gradually, or it may be that after two or three years of writing, it suddenly dawns on us that this obsession of ours is not going away. This is not the fad of the moment we pick up for a while, and then drop as interest wanes. It’s more like embarking on a marriage, building a relationship that will last a lifetime.

There will be hard times: days when it’s difficult to get to your easel, when the words for your poem won’t come, or if they do, limp onto the page and fall flat. Nothing worthwhile comes easy, the old saying goes, and that is certainly true of our passions, our art. Still, it is our passion, our deep love, and we want to keep at it, knowing that our lives would not be as rich or as full without it. So you find a way to keep the faith, to keep on going. How do we do that? Here are some tips:

  Keeping the Faith 
  1. Look for the joy in the “every-day” of work. Relish those moments when the words flow from the tips of your fingers, when the brushstrokes come free and fluid.
  2. Read books like Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way and Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones. These and other writers provide gentle encouragement and help keep you going.
  3. Set goals for yourself—such as writing a certain number of pages per month, or sending out a certain number of submissions—and ask a friend to hold you accountable.
  4. Celebrate your accomplishments—even the small ones. When you find the right color for your painting, the right word for your poem. Give yourself a pat on the back when you send out a story to a potential publisher.
  5. Develop a work schedule and stick to it as much as you can. Include in your schedule some down time, time to go “off-line” and free your mind.
  6. Don’t beat yourself up when you stray from your writing schedule or fall short of your goals. Give yourself a break. Be kind. Then get back on track.
  7. Become a part of your local artist community. A good writing group or artists’ group can provide a lifetime of support and encouragement, and is probably the very best thing you can do to nurture and sustain your creative life.

Elbert Hubbard said that “Art is not a thing, it is a way.” It is not the finished painting that matters, the completed novel (though these accomplishments are wonderful!) It is the everyday of work—the violinist practicing, the writer writing, the many happinesses found in doing what we love. This is why we wrote The Fire Inside—the joy in creating. We hope you pick up a copy and explore its pages. We hope you get in touch with your inner fire—and keep it blazing.

For more ideas to help you along the creative path, see our book, The Fire Inside. We think you’ll be inspired!

Coming of Age: Becoming Creative

“Walls turned sideways are bridges.”–Angela Davis

Openness, curiosity and, yes, change spark creativity. Sometimes, change arrives because of something we’ve set out to do. Often, though, it approaches us sideways like a sudden flash of light, and, suddenly, we’re thrown into cold water. Transitions like coming of age experiences drop us like a stone into the swirling eddy of our lives. They are wild places where we are challenged, left naked and afraid. At least a rise in blood pressure. We can either sink or use our arms and legs to reach a farther shore. Becoming creative helps us navigate. Here’s my story.

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The Power Within

The Power Within

Feeling powerless in your writing life? You don’t need to!

Let’s say you’ve been on the creative path for some time, but are feeling depressed, thinking you are not as far down the road as you envisioned. You write and you write but the essence of what you want to express remains elusive. Or perhaps you feel that you have acquired the chops it takes to be a writer. But your publications remain few and far between. The series of books you dreamed of remains just that—a dream you fear will never be realized.

Many writers, good and talented, dream the same dreams you do, and want validation in the form of a book. The same is true in other areas of creative endeavor–people who are pursuing their aspirations in the visual arts, in photography and acting and design. The competition for public recognition is fierce. The reality is that in some areas of the artistic life, we have little control. We cannot make the publisher publish our book. We have no control over whether the director will choose us for the part in the play. That power lies in other hands.

There is, however, much over which we do have control. We can do our work—complete our paintings, learn the new dance routine, write new stories and poems. This is great and joy-filled power. And if publication is your goal, know that every poem you write makes the possibility more likely. Every submission you make makes it likelier still. Rejection has been and will always be a part of the submission process. Perhaps because the piece you submit isn’t quite “there” yet. Or because the editor had a bad day and couldn’t see it for what it was. We can’t control the latter, but we can continue to hone our abilities—take classes and workshops, strive always for excellence, and keep submitting. We can also take an active part in the artistic community. So that when possibilities come along, we will be aware of them. These things we can do.

And whether or not we are recognized by the gatekeepers of the art world, our greatest power lies in believing in ourselves and what we are doing. We were born knowing there was magnificence around us; it was magnificence we were created from, and we are capable of greatness we cannot imagine.

We are like birds, the ability to sing in our own unique ways embedded within our DNA, the facility of flying in the ways we were meant to fly. We yearn to find the notes to the song, to take wing in flying. And while sometimes we try to suppress that yearning, it is there inside us, waiting like a phone we know is about to ring. And when it does, it will be our destiny on the other end of the line, the call we have been waiting for.

All we need to do is answer the phone. Pick up the pen or the paintbrush and do what we were meant to do  And take joy in that, even if the book remains unpublished. “…Publication is not all it’s cracked up to be, “ Anne LaMott said. “But writing is.” It is the creative act itself which matters—the intense focus, the feeling of reaching beyond yourself to connect with the magnificence of the universe and bring into being some new sort of beauty. There is satisfaction in that, and great joy, and therein lies true power. You have it within yourself.

For more ideas to help you along the creative path, see our book, The Fire Inside. We think you’ll be inspired!

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