Sabbath rest

Re-reading Sabbath, by Wayne Muller…deep sigh. Paying heed to the longing for more than one day a week.

Spending several mornings in a row by the lake, poetry, paper, pen and bible by my side…yes. Be still. Listen. Know. Learn how to do this again…lean in, see, hear. It is good.

Spending golden hour in pursuit of the light, camera, eyes, heart seeking ordinary beauty…yes…weeds, but not really…

And then this morning by the lake a poem comes trickling, flooding through me…just when I think I have passed writing the last one, when I’m convinced it has all been a cruel trick of nature, that I actually can’t write a jot, that my work is shite, that the combinations of words will definitely NOT flow this time around…what was I thinking…and then…a poem…a draft poem…appears (she says carefully, not wanting to sound as if she thinks it is any good.)

A friend once scolded me…you are a poet…you write…HOW DARE YOU NOT SHARE IT WITH THE WORLD!!! Whoa, it bothered me to be spoken to like that. Who was she to say that? I stuttered out excuses, like these ones I still push down every single time;

I’m nervous

It feels self-serving doesn’t it, a bit boastful

There are many poets so much better than I

It seems inappropriate to ask if I may read, silence is just easier

Um…I don’t think it’s that good yet, maybe a few more edits

Edie looked at me straight on and said it again…How dare you! It’s your gift! It’s your voice! So you’d do good at getting over yourself and sharing your work. (Well, maybe she didn’t say it precisely like that, but I remember clearly her emotion, her gentle yet persistent tone. I often share those words with young emerging and nervous poets I spend time with.)

It’s been a while. The last few days as described above have included solitude, silence and the joy of allowing my heart to free up my fingers and journal some thoughts and some poems. Here is one of them. For you, Edie.

Praise the Mutilated and Aching World

after Adam Zagajewski’s ‘Try to Praise the Mutilated World’

 

Praise the mutilated and aching world.

Praise civil rights activists and pamphlet propaganda,

praise the moment after

you watch the Youtube video and can no longer say

I did not know. Praise your confusion. Praise your disbelief.

Praise the ones who call it evidence, or conspiracy,

and sleep soundly with both points of view.

Praise each pair of opposites, the terror and the beauty,

disgust and delight, the wildness within us

and the sea, sky, and expansive forests

that swallow men and their wives.

Like the elderly man, axle deep in snow

at the end of a logging road, who suggested his wife

stay right here, stay warm, and I will go for help.

Praise his half-frozen body

and the wolves who received his offering.

Praise her waiting, for days.

Praise the sway of nighttime hydrangea bouquets

and dead black stares of roof rats chirping

like beautiful birds. Praise their goings out

and comings in for seed and vegetables.

Praise their diseased droppings.

Praise copulations of wet salmon

over gravel substrated shallows, praise

their slick fins and gaping gills.

Praise homefires in our wood stoves

and firestorms in our neighbourhoods,

praise the smoke, the candled trees,

the displaced and crispened wildlife.

Praise equally the ash smothered front lawns

and ash crossed over foreheads in remembrance.

Praise each fickle choice and self-righteous justification.

Praise lonely and never alone.

Praise here and hereafter.

Praise Him whom you have not seen but believe may be who he says he is.

Praise Him. Praise Her. Praise Us.

Praise the mutilated and aching world.

 

Recommendations…

I’ve been otherwise occupied, obvious from the date of my last post. I’m sorry. Not much in the way of blogging, or even new poetry writing. But a rich time of learning the history of epic poetic genius, and growing into new word pursuits presenting to me in my community. Awe-struck by it all.

Here are a few things I recommend to you in my latent absence, or in the intent of a poetic line/seed poem that is rooting itself in my brain, in the commendation of sparrows and lesser things;

1. John Donne ~ Holy Sonnets, specifically Death Be Not Proud.

2. Wit ~ Play by Margaret Edson, screen adaptation, starring Emma Thompson.

3. BBC Documentary on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

4. Take a course, push outside the comforting constraints of current circles, learn.

5. Self-knowledge. Dig in. Unearth. Make adjustments.

6. Forgive. Often.

7. Dive into Life. Abandon yourself. That most often requires slowing down.

That’s all my friends.

With love,

Lesley-Anne

Audition

Audition (album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

You walk in, full arms all papers, water bottle and inadvertent slam

door against the wall and a cringe sorry to nobody in particular

in the empty waiting room. You try

for the appearance of nonchalance

like you’ve done this before, stomach twisting out prayers

as you wait, wonder why, and then

it’s your turn. Strong hand shake, smile

offer real, look him in the eye respond, and when he finally asks

if you would like to share some of your poems

you say yes, yes, I would, and you step up

to the borrowed music stand

your pop art sign glowing like a bright star

against every feeling of inadequacy

open your mouth

and speak him into believing.

When it is over he says good, good

and you feel a giddy gut pull where

you are almost sure

writing words and speaking words and living words

is more than just a square peg in a square hole.

SDG

Prostrate…

Left knee-joint from behind, showing interior ligaments. (Lateral meniscus and medial meniscus are cartilage.) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I fell on my face, then my left knee. My hands were entirely unhelpful. It seemed to happen slowly. I felt my head bounce. I stayed very still, assessing damage.

My friend, bless her heart, began to immediately ask questions. Can you sit up? NO. Can you move your leg? No. Are you OK? How do you feel? Not sure. Do you want me to help you sit up? NO. I was having trouble saying much of anything with my face up against the asphalt, my fingers finally moving into action to feel around my face a little bit, push myself up a little bit… enough to see blood on the ground. There’s a lot of blood, I said. And, after holding my position for several minutes, holding my breath for what seemed far too long, I moved my body into a sitting position and was cared for by my friend, by her friend now also now my friend, and a security officer who was involved at this point. This was also difficult. Humiliating. Humbling. Involved water, ointment, Hershey’s chocolate, frozen peas, conversation, love, rest, time.

Involved aftermath, like walking around with my face bruised and scraped and obviously damaged. Noticing eyes averted, unspoken questions, looks of pity, need of explanation.

I am fine. No broken teeth. No teeth through lips. No broken bones. Minor lacerations to eyebrow, lip, chin, cheekbone, and knee. I thank God. Three weeks later and there’s really no proof left that I fell, other than a twinge in the soft tissue of my knee when I kneel. But I remember.

Being a poet, I think about what this means, a lot. To lose control. To be out of control. To fall. Down. Prostrate on your face. To be humbled. To be hurt. To be helpless. To be fully reliant on someone other than yourself. How I’ve heard that pride comes before a fall. How might a life position of surrender be related to a physical position of being prostrate. Before God. A heart position that echos a physical position seldom chosen aside from sleep?

It’s been a busy Lent. I began with high aspirations. To set time aside. To be intentional with spiritual exercises. To write a poem a day… I haven’t written much at all. Palm Sunday is this weekend. Good Friday 5 days after that, and then Easter Sunday. I’m on choir. My heart needs to catch up with this, and I’m reminded that I haven’t kept my promise to watch “Passion of the Christ“. I wonder why I need want to lay myself down? To consider again what it all means…falling…down…

SDG,

Lesley-Anne

meanwhile, the pop up poet…

So, probably know I’m doing a new thing over at Pop Up Poetry. I’m getting out more, not just writing, but reading! Often that means reading my work at open mics around town. If you are in the area and interested in the arts scene, you might just want to check out these Kelowna venues and events. Something to help make it through until Spring.

Last Thursday night I went up to the cozy and welcoming Mission House Coffee and Cupcakery, enjoyed some wine with good friends, met some new ones. I read some poetry, and listened to some local talent, musical and literary, at the first open mic of the year. It was great. Open mics are always inspiring and expanding. So thanks for the invite, Vanessa.  Check out the unique sounds of Vanessa Eidse vocals and ukelele on CBC Music HERE. She performed ‘Heart’ at the open mic. Awesome. I’m so looking forward to the next time.

There are a growing number of open mics around town. Rawl James’ Inspired Word at various locations is on my radar, with three offerings in February alone.  Streaming Cafe is hip and offers lots of events including open mics, next one on Feb 8th at 7 pm. And, Pulp Fiction is another funky venue where you can catch music and words and even some theatre, surrounded by retro posters, vintage furnishings and antiquarian books.

If you know of other literary opportunities, please do share there here with us.

And, if you head on over to Pop Up Poetry, you’ll find poem 2.

That’s all for today,

Lesley-Anne, SDG

Tuesday poem 006

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a poem. Almost a month.

Forgive me.

I’m linking this poem to today’s Poetry Pub over at dVerse Poetry, answering host Victoria Slotto‘s request, “to post a descriptive poem in which images are used to describe a feeling, a truth you hold dear, a person, using primarily surroundings—in other words, an imagist poem that has an embedded message about whatever…”

This time

This is what it feels like –
first step, splinter of ice,
eyes fixed on the gleam of going,
no clear way out.
The walls tight
like winter,
hands bruising the throat of spring.
You blow halos on the frosted window,
birth pains to a small voice.
The air opens to your giving,
you can almost say the way.

Lesley-Anne Evans, 2013

midweek random ramble 023

1. A shout out and blogacious thank you to Robert Rife, author of the insightful blog Innerwoven and frequent forays into poetry at Rob’s Lit Bits (check both out, especially Rob’s transparent and vulnerable life story which he posts in segments, called “From Earth to Sky”). Mr. Rob Rife generously included Buddy Breathing in his list of “cool blogs”. Well, Mr. Rife, you are too cool for school too! And a great big thank you!

2. A beautiful boy named Jordan Unrau left this earth last week to be with Jesus. Jordan attended Kelowna Christian School with two of our kids. He was just 15. I can’t imagine what his family is facing now, what they have experienced in the past year, and yet there is so much more than pain in their story. Here is their blog called Jordan’s Healing, which contains the most profound expressions of faith I have ever encountered.

3. Decking my halls with a girlfriend is a brilliant idea. No more feeling sorry for myself that the family is less interested in the process than the result. No more pity. All light, all joy, all music and eggnog and girly conversation, and a beautiful end product that everyone can enjoy!

4. Started watching “Touch” on Netflix. Becoming attached to the character of Jake, and wondering what the world might look like through his eyes… if there is documented proof of ‘seeing’ in the way that is portrayed in the show? Might wonder only be visible to some? Hmmm…check it out. And, according to this article, Season 2 will be released Feb. 8, 2013.

5. I finally bought my airline tickets! I’m attending a workshop with poet Patrick Lane, on Vancouver Island, in January. I’m feeling a little scared and giddy at the same time. To learn from Patrick will be a landmark and a huge honour. To share my work with him, will take courage.

6. Facebook… I have to say I miss you once in awhile, but not as often as I thought I might. I’ve done great and wonderful things without you. Like, thinking without interruptions to post thoughts, fixing things around the house, organizing things around the house. writing, special projects, seasonal preparations, connecting with real people in real life, and I’m surviving just fine thank you very much. Still, I do like you Facebook, you just have this way of sucking the time out of me. Maybe it’s just me, but I think a little bit of you goes a long way. Maybe we’ll catch up again in January.

In all things, somehow grace enough.

Lesley-Anne SDG

Graces, gifts and gratitude

Barrack Building 225, Fort Worden State Park, Port Townsend, Washington

For those who have just joined me in this experience of seeing gifts in every moment, along the way, as we wait, as we struggle suddenly overcome with blind eyes, I thought it might be helpful to share what began with a single step. It was a book. Ann Voskamp’s book, “One Thousand Gifts” that I picked up one day at Chapters, and then a confirmed thought process, a prompting, a nudging of the spirit, and then the journey beginning and spreading out before me this eucharisteo, this thankfulness for what is set before me when I have eyes to see.

So please consider how the naming of life’s gifts might be something worthy of time and space in each of our lives, and might carry within it the potential to change us from beggars into those overwhelmed by a feast of grace. Here is the blog post where it all began for me… my naming one thousand gifts. That was my start, and although I can’t always document each gift as it happens, I’ve chosen to name many of the gifts here on this blog as a reminder… mostly to me. I hope you join me… and if you do, please let me know… share your list. You are most welcome to do that.

And, if you have the opportunity to pick up and read Ann’s extraordinary book, please do it!

Journeying,

Lesley-Anne

So my list continues:

263. a long journey with a new friend

264. finding your tribe

265. expressing what is risky and beautiful

266. healing through creative expression of a thought, or two, or three

267. fog over sea, first light

268. the long call of a fog horn for safe passage

269. being on the water

270. historic buildings and used book stores

271. a phonecall home, the sound of voices you love

272. scars

273. a bench of your own in a quiet place

274. patriotism

275. listening and learning

276. new ideas

277. new people

278. the sense of place unique to every place

279 – 294. gifts captured in photographs

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Posting photos on WordPress Blogs

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

(I will share how to do a slideshow next post… this is just a teaser!)

My Grandfather taught me to see (and introduced me to the rest of my senses as a result)… took me around his two acre patch of paradise garden with him when I was just two years old. And, with hands clasped behind our backs, we toured he taught me Latin names of plants, and the intricate and important task of seeing by paying attention, looking, stopping, staring, considering, discussing, praising, and… wait for it… AWE. So, maybe in hindsight, my Grandfather planted in me the roots that have grown and bloomed into poetry…hmmm…I wonder.

Grandpa’s words were simple enough, “Would you look at that!.”

Anyway, part of looking for me is to capture what I see with words and, after a long time without any equipment, suddenly I have been blessed with a camera (thanks again son) which allows me yet another way to capture moments.

A good friend asked me the other day how to post big and beautiful photos on his blog… so, the primary reason for my blog today is to try to help him with that goal in mind. Posting big and beautiful, drawing attention to, capturing, looking, and yes… seeing… what surrounds us.

Step One:

Take a beautiful photograph. Ansel Adams said, “Sometimes I do get to places just when God’s ready to have somebody click the shutter…” And I believe that to be true. So, take the photo. Divine appointment click!

Step Two:

Download your photos from your camera onto your computer. In my case, I’m Mac gal, so I download/upload (always get the two mixed up!) into iPhoto.

Step Three:

Go to WordPress, prepare to post a blog just as you always do. Just under the title box you will see “Upload/Insert” and there are three icons following … 1 for Media (photos/music/video), 1 for a Poll, and 1 for Custom Form. I’ve never used the last two… but this is about the first. So, click on Media and you will arrive at a page with a little box in the middle that says, “Drop files here or select files.” I always click on select files which then takes me into iPhoto where I select and upload what I want to use.

Step Four:

So, on my computer I have a choice of four options… these are they: (oddly enough, large and full size look identical… who knew???)

Choose thumbnail

Choose medium

Choose large

Choose full size

THEN

WAY DOWN ON THE RIGHT HAND SIDE OF THE PAGE YOU WILL SEE MEDIA GALLERY… that is where you will find images from the internet that are recommended relating to your topic. Here is an Ansel Adams photo because I mention him in this post. I have found these images to be helpful at times, but not very large and look a bit borrowed. You will need in each case to set your icon where you want the picture to fall in your text… and that’s all folks… !!!

English: Ansel Adams The Tetons and the Snake River (1942) Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming. National Archives and Records Administration, Records of the National Park Service. (79-AAG-1) Français : Ansel Adams. Les Grands Tetons et la rivière Snake (1942). Parc National des Grands Tetons, Wyoming. Archives Nationales des USA, Archives du service des parcs nationaux. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I used to be a blogger…

There was a time when I blogged on a regular basis, saw lots of people drop into my blogs, linked my blog from my facebook page, and utilized the social networks I am part of to spread Buddy Breathing as wide as I could. And now, well, now Facebook has made some changes, and I’m no longer visible to all my ‘friends’ unless they choose to make me visible. And, I’m just not in a place where I want to ‘work’ my blog, spend hours making connections with people on their blogs, commenting on their writing which means reading their writing so that I can comment intelligently on it… I’m just not able to prioritize it right now. So. maybe it’s time for a little holiday from blogging… a bit of a break…

Another issue that’s come up recently is that whenever I share a piece of my poetry here, or anywhere else online, it’s considered ‘published’. That’s rather annoying to me, as much as I want to share my words openly, I don’t want posting my work here to undermine or prevent my ability to enter competitions, or even submit said work for publishing in the more traditional sense. So, the thrill I’ve had for the past 40 Poetry Fridays is somewhat muted by this fact.  Again I wonder, is it time to take a little hiatus from the blog?

I’m somewhat undecided, sitting on the fence, really. Processing, listening for some clearer direction, inspiration, or maybe just a new way.

So, I write about the Top (10) reasons why blogs fail… and wonder if mine is failing, or if I am?

My brother and his wife are currently blogging their trip to Iceland… lots of beautiful photographs, little bits of words, and it works. It’s interesting, fresh every day. Maybe I’m just tired, or distracted?

I am fairly certain that I need to re-purpose this blog… refocus my efforts. I hope you will stand by while I do that. But, if not, then thank you for all your visits (all 7676 of them). You’ve inspired me thus far, you really have.

For now… “adieu“. For how long… I don’t know yet. But I will be back some day.

Keep smiling… keep believing in the hope you have… keep on keeping on. Soli deo gloria!

Lesley-Anne

p.s. if you want to keep in touch, just drop in and leave me a comment… or, find me on facebook. Either one works for me!