NaPoMo poetry party.20

Photo Credit: Victor Poirier

Good morning everyone, and welcome to our guest Deborah Lampitt-McConnachie. Deborah joins us from Kelowna, British Columbia, where she awaits the new post-covid world order along with her husband, Muddy the Whoodle, and Four the Burmese cat.

Deborah’s longtime blog is how we first met, and then again through a hip poetry party she threw at SOPA Gallery, Kelowna, a few years back. Deborah is a writer, stylist, editor, and performance poet who spent several years in fashion television in the UK (Planet Fashion (world wide cable); The Fashion Show (L!VE TV, UK); A LA Mode (UK Living) and Looking Good (BBC2)). Currently she writes and puts together the college magazine for Centre for Arts and Technology.

So good to have you here with us today, Deborah. As you know we’ve been looking at three questions with each of our guests this month, so let’s move into your responses to those right now.

Lesley-Anne: We often say we wish we had more time for certain things. Are you spending your time differently in view of our current world challenges? If so, how?

Deborah: Guilty as charged – I am always saying that very thing. Unfortunately, I am as yet to get more time!  I’m extremely lucky to have a job that has continued – albeit virtually – despite the Covid 19 crisis. I run several departments at the Centre for Arts and Technology here in Kelowna, and we have managed to shift our course delivery online for our new term which started this past week. This has meant completely reorganizing classes and instructors, implementing a new system from class delivery. learning the new system, and making sure our instructors learn the new system, etc. So the past three weeks have been no-holds-barred, all-hands-on-deck, getting things up and running.

But we are now there, and I am hoping that maintaining (work-wise) from home will now free up a little bit more time. After all, think of all the time I will save time in commuting, putting on makeup and getting dressed! ;-)

So… now that things are calming down, I hope to have some time and headspace to get stuck in to the 4-5 creative projects I have been trying to find time and headspace for – a combination of various poetry and visual arts projects that have been rolling around in my head for at least a couple of years.

The one thing I have manged to institute over the past weeks is a morning online transformative meditation. It’s a magical 45’ish minutes for me, and has been also great at helping keep anxiety at bay.

Lesley-Anne: Why is art important?

Deborah: Art asks us to look at things in a different way. Maybe a deeper way. Maybe a broader way. Maybe a completely upside down way. But art takes something and turns it into something else we can examine from a new perspective.

It makes us slow down and examine.

It (poetry especially I think) takes something small and personal and transforms it into something universal. And in doing so makes us feel less alone.

Art makes us think. Makes us feel. In – sometimes – whole new ways. The importance of this cannot be underestimated. Or undervalued.

Lesley-Anne: What is one surprising thing that happened today?

Deborah: A new poem is starting to niggle its way into existence. That always makes me happy.

 

Thanks so much for spending time with us here today, Deborah, and for the poem you are about to share. I look forward to seeing more of you and your poetry in the days to come.

Blessings and good health,
Lesley-Anne

Photo Credit: Victor Poirier

Reverse Origami

Like the paper crane
I exist 

Only

In intricate folds

My complexities 
Layered

Hidden in the depths
Of wafer thin tissue 

A heart of 

Washi

Sculpted to steel

Through the 
Moisture of tears.

Unfold me

Transform me

Mine my
Porcellanite seams

Unpleat 
Untuck 
Ungather

Me

Like reverse origami
Undo me

Make me 
Into

Something new…

		

DH Lampitt | 2011

NaPoMo poetry party.17

Carmen Rempel is here with us today, from Kelowna, British Columbia.

Hi, Carmen, and welcome to Buddy Breathing.  By the way, I’m enjoying your BLOG But I’m Brave so much. You have a way of tackling tough topics with authenticity and humour. I know you as a compelling public speaker, and I’m delighted to get to know you as a writer.

As you know we’ve been having a daily party for April – National Poetry Month, and I’m hosting a creative a day for a conversation based upon a handful of questions. And then most people share a poem, either one they wrote, or one that wrote them, or one that is meaningful to them. Let’s get started!

Lesley-Anne: We often say we wish we had more time for certain things. Are you spending your time differently in view of our current world challenges? If so, how?

Carmen: I’ve heard about this “more time” people have been talking about. I’m an adoptive mom of two teenage girls (one with an anxiety disorder and one with an intellectual disability) who are now doing school at home online, while I’m trying to work at home online, so I have less time than ever! I’ve been waking up earlier so that I have a few hours in the morning to read and write before the rest of the house gets up.

Lesley-Anne: What is the core factor that brings vitality and life to you?

Carmen: Nothing breathes life into me more than being totally alone in the backcountry. There is a tension of total peace, and constant anxiety as I hike alone with bear spray in hand, hours away from the next human being, with nothing but the Divine Presence and my own thoughts. 

Lesley-Anne: What is one surprising thing that happened today?

Carmen: We got a roommate! A friend found herself needing someplace to stay because her roommate was exposed to Covid. We are so grateful to have her staying with us for the next two weeks!

You have a poem with a story for us today, and so I’ll just pass it over to you to introduce us and carry on. Thanks again for dropping by. It makes me long for the days when we will be back sitting across a table sharing a coffee, or a pint, and unpacking something light and frivilous, yeah, right!

Until then, may your words be unleashed and good health be sustained,
Lesley-Anne

When Your Hands Were Little

Background of Poem:

We were going over her old report cards together, snuggled up on the couch, tea waiting to offer comfort sitting wisely beside us. She had never seen them before, and they were from the time well before I knew her, so there was discoveries to be had for both of us. We read about her teacher being proud of her for this and that. I praised her for being called a friendly and helpful kid in kindergarten. I didn’t read that part that said she was well below grade level. I skipped over the extra note written by the teacher asking the parent to make sure she came to school more often because they couldn’t assess her properly because she had missed so much school. I left out the note from the principal asking to meet. Instead I read the bit about how the teacher said she was learning to share well with others. But then she pointed to the box at the top of the page that said “34.5”, and asked what it meant.

Sigh.

“That’s how many absences you had in between March and June in grade 2.” I said.

“Oh.”

There was along pause and I watched the wave of understanding roll over her. Then I watched as the wave of painful memories came next. By the time the third wave, the wave of attached emotions, came crashing in, she shoved the papers aside and laid her head in my lap and began to cry quietly.

I took her hand into mine, and we waited out the waves together.

After a while she started playing with my hand, fiddling with my ring, feeling the sandpaper of my dry skin. She held her hand up, stretched out against mine. “Your hands are so small!” She giggled. Her 12 year old hands match her tall lanky body, and are significantly bigger than mine.

They always have been. In our entire relationship her hands have always been bigger than mine.

I brought my other hand up, capturing her one hand between two of mine, and said “They may be small, but they are capable of taking care of you.”

Her smile turned sad. “I know.” she said.

As an adoptive mom of an older kid I have this guilt companion with me all the time. I’m her mom. Its my job to care for and protect my kid. And she had been going through hell without me. I know its irrational, I know its misplaced, but in my heart I carry a deep regret that I didn’t get to her sooner. This feeling is what inspired the following poem. There is probably some therapist somewhere who would love to name this feeling I experience, but I haven’t met them yet. So this is what I have instead.

If you want to take a peek into the deepest parts of my heart; here you go.

Please handle with care.

When your hands were little

I'm sorry I wasn't there 

I'm sorry that you were alone 

I'm sorry I couldn't be there when your hands were little.

Littler than mine.

I'm sorry I didn't know you then.

I'm sorry that you were scared

I'm sorry I couldn't hold you when your hands were little

Littler than mine.

I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you

I'm sorry that you were hurt

I'm sorry I couldn't soothe you when your hands were little

Littler than mine

I'm sorry I wasn't there to feed you

I'm sorry that you were hungry

I'm sorry I couldn't pack your lunch when your hands were little

Littler than mine

I'm sorry that I missed so much

I'm sorry that you had a whole life before me

I'm sorry I couldn't get to you sooner, while your hands were still little

Littler than mine.

NaPoMo poetry party.14

Margaret Macpherson lives in Edmonton, Alberta. Right now she is off-grid, seeking the solitude of the lovely little cabin you see in this photograph. That sounds pretty appealing to me, Margaret.

I’m borrowing your words here, Margaret, when you say you are a writer, teacher and mentor who believes in freedom, self expression, justice and the uncanny ability of the human spirit to connect intimately with others. You love people and words and positive energy and your work speaks of your deep connection to humanity. You’re a Northern lass, a second generation feminist with three kids, a husband and a cat.

We met at Banff Centre, a decade ago, and thanks be to social media, we’ve stayed connected. Our recent lunch at U. of A. was a blast, so many things in common to chat about.

Let’s jump right in with three questions, Margaret, as they are windows into the richness of your life;

1. We often say we wish we had more time for certain things. Are you spending your time differently in view of our current world challenges? If so, how?

Margaret: As a writer and, more recently painter, I have always sought creative pursuits but in these strange times I feel a new urgency to create. Not all that I do is for beauty and comfort, either. Sometimes I believe images and text should probe us to reflect, to consider new perspectives or even new questions. Art can, and sometimes should, make us uncomfortable.

I do feel like we have more time, and that’s curious because I’ve always been an artist and a gig worker but now, in the season of COVID 19, the quality of time is different. It’s blurred and amorphous. People are loosing track of days. It’s marvelous in a bizarre way because what is time if not a construct imposed upon us?

I don’t mind this world order falling away; I think it was broken and unsustainable. My hope is that we can learn from this crisis — death is always with us, we can’t love things, giving and receiving are both important in healthy relationships. I want the world to collectively re-imagine and implement a new order that upholds different values and principals. I know if sounds lofty and it’s not that I don’t succumb to Doritos and Netflix from time to time, but I am changed by this reflective period and, oddly, I feel hopeful.

2. What is the core factor that brings vitality and life to you?

Margaret: I think my spiritual life and my intuitive life have been deeply important to my being. I’m a survivor of sexual assault, an outspoken second wave feminist, and someone who gets energy from others, a typical extrovert. This isolation would ruin me if it weren’t for the artistic practices I’ve established and the rich communion I have with my creative self, the Creator within. I always have to acknowledge ego, all the time, however because when it gets in the way, you’re hooped. There is no flow between yourself and the richly mesmerizing spirit world.

I’m experimenting with an expressive visual arts activity involving three principals – deep meditations, trusting the process of the medium (in my case watercolours), and gifting the result. I focus on a particular person or situation and then paint and see what occurs. It’s remarkably revealing at times, but I have to remind myself to acknowledge and let go of ego – I’ve named the practice Non-prophet, just to remind myself how easily ego creeps in.

3. What is one surprising thing that happened today?

Margaret: As I write this, our black cat is sitting on the back porch in the mid afternoon sunshine. Watching her ears twitch, I realize how attuned she is to the coming of spring. My own longing for a deeper connection to the Earth surprises me. It might be time to head out to our cabin in the bush. There is no running water there, no electricity, no neighbours, no cell service, just a riverbank and the quietude of a world awakening. I need to feel the spring stirring, the way my cat does.

Margaret Macpherson has two published novels, Released (Signature Editions, 2007) and Body Trade (Signature Editions, 2012), a collection of short stories, Perilous Departures and four non fiction books. Her stories and essay have been anthologized and her poetry scattered to the winds. Margaret’s website is woefully out of date but if you want to get in touch visit her HERE.

Thank you for visiting with me today, and for our connection over the years. I appreciate your infectious optimism, and welcoming spirit.

Be blessed,
Lesley-Anne

And a poem…

Now, Breathe



Now, there is no more busy
Now, we have time
Now, distraction is foreign
and flights of fantasy are the only 
aircraft we can board.

Now, walking outside is our consolation
and brave sun, in our solitude, a new companion.
Now, the stars are less distant, 
and those we love even closer.

Now, we can’t gather
can’t hobnob, can’t see or be seen.
Now, we are quiet
focused, still.

Let’s breathe.
Breathe while the earth is healing
Breathe while the fields ripen
Breathe while the lungs of our longing
thicken and fill.

Time is on our side, at last.
It is all we have left.
Breathe in the ecstasy
of this world

waiting. 

Margaret Macpherson 
03/18/20 

Cover photo by Joel Clements Photography.

NaPoMo poetry party.12

Welcome, Karen Connelly, to our virtual gathering. How I wish we were sitting on a couch, legs pulled up, hands wrapped around a cup of tea, but this will have to do. We’ll begin by focusing on how you are keeping in these strange, life altering days, and then move to a poem you’ve selected to share today with us. I know you read this poem on Instagram recently, so I invite folk to head over there after our time together here.

It has been a week or so since I’ve listened to one of your midnight readings on Instagram. It became a way into deeper breaths, resting in the soothing sound of your voice, and readying myself for sleep. I am so grateful to you for those late evening posts.

Here are the three questions we have been cycling back to each day, and your generous answers;

1. We often say we wish we had more time for certain things. Are you spending your time differently in view of our current world challenges? If so, how?

Karen: Hello Lesley Anne,

Because I’m a writer and therapist and work primarily from my home office, I haven’t changed my schedule all that much, except for a daily walk with my teenage son, which is a wonderful gift. Usually he doesn’t want to be seen with me in public, but now that his parents are his only companions, we’re all spending more time together. This has been an unexpected blessing for all of us. Though I also yell at him more—usually from the kitchen to the second floor– because of the Nefarious Screen Factor. We’re all spending even more time than usual in front of our screens.

But that also has brought a surprisingly positive benefit. I practice a neural-somatic trauma therapy called OEI, Observed Experiential Integration, and it’s been challenging and exciting to figure out how to work with clients on screen instead of in person. I have a couple of older and differently abled clients, for whom this change has been extremely helpful. They don’t have to leave their homes in these times of social distancing, and I’ve learned that doing this special body-based work is possible at a distance. So that’s really thrilling—it’s always exciting to learn something new, or to be challenged and realize you can figure out a solution. In fact, for a couple of these clients, working online is much easier. If someone has more ease in the experience of the therapeutic hour, the work tends to be more effective.

2. What is the core factor that brings vitality and life to you?

Karen: I’ve always been a spiritual person with spiritual habits and practices—I’ve been a meditator and student of yoga for decades– but that part of my character has become more defining and more definitive since I underwent an extraordinary crisis a few years ago. I’d let myself slide into that handy category of ‘emergency meditator’—I’d do the work when I really needed to, but I had a lot of secret resistance to the idea of goodness and service.

Cue the major crisis! I was crushed, so my resistances were also crushed. It was excellent. And terrifying. Heartbreaking. It was like Rilke’s poem: you must change your life. There was no more dabbling. I became a trauma therapist (an area in which I’d also meandered and read for years and years). During my training, the spirituality work became very focused and disciplined; I began studying Buddhist and Vedic texts again– really studying them–and meditating, praying and doing yoga every day. So. That is what gives me joy and vitality.

And trees. Walking around. The sky. This world and its creatures. The human voice.

3. What is one surprising thing that happened today?

Karen: A breakthrough that a client had. Completely out of left field; something we hadn’t really talked about before. The realization brought her great relief. More than relief: a feeling of resolution and profound grace. I can’t say more than that about her work but I can talk about my own sense of breakthrough, witnessing that, hearing the lightness in her voice, seeing it in her body. Working with people who are wrestling with PTSD seems, on the surface, to be so depressing. I think this is why I resisted deeper healing myself and resisted becoming a therapist for so long (though I was doing ‘mental health first aid’ for years, mostly with friends and students).

But today I glimpsed in my client’s moment of resolution my own emergence from crisis some years ago. People who’ve experienced severe abuse as children sometimes discover an unexpected freedom when they realize that the worst is truly over. The worst is over because we’ll never be children again, and (usually with good therapy) the trapped feelings that characterize PTSD begin to loosen and resolve. The resiliency, the ability to survive, indeed, the ability to thrive and find goodness in this world: human beings are absolutely extraordinary. There are many qualities about us as a species that are pretty deplorable, but when people heal, when they go down into those depths and emerge, their transformations are always surprising. We’re witnessing a lot of that goodness circulating right now, in this time of global crisis. I love that. I love us!

Karen is a literary writer, editor, teacher, and trauma-informed therapist. You can read more about Karen’s work and sign up for her Courage Room blog and newsletter at www.karenconnelly.ca.

Blessings and gratitude to you for spending time here today, Karen,
Lesley-Anne

Sonnet II/29


From Sonnets for Orpheus, by Rainier Maria Rilke, 
translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy in 2003, 
during the early months of the U.S. invasion of Iraq.

 
Quiet friend who has come so far,

Feel how your breathing makes more space around you.

Let this darkness be a bell tower

And you the bell. As you ring,

 

What batters you becomes your strength.

Move back and forth into the change.

What is it like, such intensity of pain?

If the drink is bitter, turn yourself into wine.

 

In this uncontainable night,

Be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,

The meaning discovered there.

 

And if the world has ceased to hear you,

Say to the silent earth: I flow.

To the rushing water, speak: I am.

Looking for a common thread and finding random rambles…

It’s been a while since I’ve written… don’t know why, just haven’t felt much like it. Nor have I felt like writing poems. Enough said because the new me (since two nights ago when I re-established my trajectory with the gracious help of my dear husband Bob) is focused on finding a balance between over-sharing being honest, and living on the surface of life superficiality. And that, my friend, isn’t very easy for moi.

I recall a while back I used to publish mid-week random rambles, and I guess that’s where I’ll start. Easier than an essay or a soul searching journey that results in something vaguely poetic. Probably easier on both of us? Or, perhaps you can relate to #6 below… which takes me back to the difficulty in finding a balance. But, I digress.

Anyway, here’s my ramble for ya;

1. Found a new sweet spot… having artists/musicians billet with our family, share our stuff, food, ideas… the spine tingle of having them play our piano and sing in our rooms. I felt alive when they were here. Understood. Understood them to some degree, even though they were so much younger. Here’s Zerbin “New Earth”… have a watch and a listen. So talented…

2. When said band members were staying with us, they were in the kitchen devouring enjoying a dozen muffins when Derek started to laugh (I think it was Derek, maybe it was Jason or was it Nick?) Check out the view of our art gallery style fridge front in the slide show below with the cows (somewhat same theme of poo…). Yep, right under the bible verse you’ll see it!!! Nice to know there’s always something yummy to eat in our fridge!

3. Somewhat surprised that the photo of our dog Emmy and her amazing encounter with a deer posted in the Toronto Star and Kelowna Capital News… would end up with over 4229 likes and 1917 shares at Dogwork.com, on Facebook at D-Fa Dogs, on Tumblr and half way around the world on a hungarian website that I can’t find at the moment.

4. Seen along the way, a field of cows and calves, resulting in a return trip and walk into the ditch to photograph said creatures resulting in these photos… and then, the very next day after the photo shoot… they were gone! Relocated to greener pastures perhaps?

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5. Considered in passing, a sign that said “Ignore inconvenient twists and turns” and immediately I could think of all sorts of life applications for that one! Especially having just experienced a rather nasty twist when an elderly lady gave me a tongue lashing for pulling just a leetle too far into the walking lane at the intersection.

6. Discovered on the book shelf in Chapters… “Quiet”, a book by Susan Cane whom I just recently watched present a Ted Talk on the same subject of the power and joy of being an introvert. I’m waiting for the soft cover version, or the library copy… but I know there will be gems of affirmation in those pages. Here’s the talk…

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!

Voice Two – Anne Linington

Image via Wikipedia

Anne Linington and I have known each other for about 8 years… but have never met in real life! Maybe one day we will!

We first connected on a writer’s network called ‘Faithwriters’, and discovered each other’s love for poetry.

Anne lives in on the Isle of White, UK, with her husband Russel, and is licensed as a Lay Minister in the Church of England.  Anne’s heart is wide open for the adults with learning disabilities that she works with. Anne is inspired by the writing of Henri Nouwen, Thomas Merton, and Bernard of Clairvaux.

My friend Anne is a tireless encourager, and she speaks into my life as a poet and a Christian, adding to a growing sense of confidence in writing. I’m forever thankful to her for the gift of virtual friendship.

Anne continues to post her beautiful poetry online at Faithwriters and  Premier Christian Community.

With thoughts looking toward Easter, I gladly share Anne’s poem, “A bold move”. Thank you, dear Anne, for taking us there.

A bold move

It was a bold move
To welcome the news the angel brought
That the long-awaited Messiah
Foretold by her nation’s prophets
Would become incarnate
In the womb of her adolescent body
And through her
Be born into the world he loved
And longed to save

It was a bold move
Wearied and weakened in body
To make her way through the pressing crowd
Each vying for a better view
Of this man of oracle and miracle
Through the press of sweating bodies
The twist of dusty feet
She stretched her arm
And her hand touched his robe

It was a bold move
To enter the house
Where the men had gathered
Knowing that all eyes would fall on her
That her reputation would scream out
That she of all people was not fit
To touch such a person
Let alone pour her precious offering
Upon His feet
And wipe them with her hair

It was a bold move
To return to the garden alone
Searching for her beloved
Whom she had seen die
Whom she had loved in life
And so recently loved in death
To view the now empty tomb
And ask if He had been taken away
Or where she might find Him

It was a bold move

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• Poetry Fridayo37 (buddybreathing.wordpress.com)

Poetry Friday036

The fear of white

I have found there to be voids, like the
times when the stark white of it is blinding
transfixing all attempts at meaningful expression,
mocking my tongue-tied immobility with blank eyes.

The memory of grade school drills assure me that
figures placed in appropriate order make sense,
so that is where I begin to break the curse,
to place one or two words, tentative sentences into

the void. But my heart longs for the rush of thought
and the cramping of my fingers as they frantically try to
match the pace of mental discourse around
something glimpsed in passing, some transcendent

thought, that should someone happen upon it, they might
feel a catch in their throat or an ache in their gut
and maybe the urge to cry — Do you know what I mean?
Like when you hear a voice singing

notes that

clamp around your lungs, leave you

struggling

to breathe.

Lesley-Anne Evans, November 2009

The blogger

Lesley-Anne Evans

I’ve been a blogger for over a year now, and have been using Blogspot which is a very user friendly and intuitive program (which works for me… a die hard Mac woman). So far, WordPress is eluding me, and to be honest, frustrating me a bit. As I attempt to familiarize myself better with WordPress, you will find mostly words here with the occasional photograph. This is a photo of me, until I can find out how to post an ‘about me’ somewhere on the blog. Either that, or I will go back to Blogspot.

Stay tuned…
Lesley-Anne