morning doves takes flight kissing the sky with their wings sky’s cloudy cheeks blush
CHARLES W. MARTIN (Reading Between the Minds) — earned his Ph.D. in Speech and Language Pathology with an emphasis in statistics. Throughout Charlie’s career, he maintained a devotion to the arts (literature/poetry, the theater, music and photography). Since his retirement in 2010, he has turned his full attention to poetry and photography. He publishes a poem and a photographic art piece each day at Read Between the Minds, Poetry, Photograph and Random Thoughts of Life. He is noted as a poet of social conscience. Charlie has been blogging since January 31, 2010. He has self-published a book of poetry entitled The Hawk Chronicles and will soon publish another book called A Bea in Your Bonnet: First Sting, featuring the renown Aunt Bea. In The Hawk Chronicles, Charlie provides a personification of his resident hawk with poems and photos taken over a two-year period. Charlie’s lastest book, When Spirits Touch, Dual Poetry, a collaboration with River Urke, is available through Amazon now.
When people are good at what the do – no matter what their jobs are – their work seems effortless. We never see the hours of practice behind the dancer’s bravura performance or the pianist’s breathtaking delivery nor the years of experience behind the actor’s overnight success, the accountant’s instant analysis or the cook’s fabulously original meal pulled together with left-overs and pantry odds-and-ends. And so it is with the practiced precision of poetry …
Elizabeth Bishop’s One Art seems effortless but over the course of years she rewrote it seventeen times. It’s humbling to note that someone this brilliant still struggled. One of the reasons that I tend to take down the poems on my blog is that they’re often drafts, even when I delude myself into thinking they’re not. I come back to them sometime later and small important things make me cringe and seem to shout for attention: the glaringly misplaced or missing comma, the inappropriate or inaccurate word and the major issues like overheated emotion, flawed logic or the disordered stanza. In my own small, insignificant way, I relate to Elizabeth Bishop’s struggle to get it just right.
In the short video that follows Professor M. Mark at Vassar College (Bishop’s alma mater) discusses Elizabeth Bishop, her work, and her only villanelle*, the renowned poem, One Art, which is included inThe Complete Poems 1926-1978(recommended reading)..
– Jamie Dedes.
One Art
The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, an hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident the art of losing’s not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
– Elizabeth Bishop
Video uploaded by Vassar College.
* Vinanelle ~ a nineteen-line poem with two rhymes throughout, consisting of five tercets and a quatrain, with the first and third lines of the opening tercet recurring alternately at the end of the other tercets and with both repeated at the close of the concluding quatrain. New Oxford American Dictionary
JAMIE DEDES (The Poet by Day)~ I am a mother and a medically retired (disabled) elder. The graces of poetry, art, music, writing and reading continue to evolve as a sources of wonder and solace, as a creative outlet, and as a part of my spiritual practice.
We all must come to terms with our upbringing. For some there is more pain to work through than for others. I had what one might call a proper upbringing. Yet still, one filled with much pain. My mother was not in London during those 57 nights of the Blitz. This was of course poetic license on my part. However, she was living in London during 1943 and 1944 in WWII. She became a lifelong Anglophile. This fact set up some difficult goals for her children to attain for they were not British (and we came after the war).
Sometimes due to her scrapbooks I feel as though I was there, in London during the war.
There was a time that I knew nothing about war. A spiritual experience that I was willing to have in 2005, dictated that I learn about war. Mummy never spoke of her work in London during WWII. She worked for the US propaganda office or the OWI – Office of War Information. I really never knew until I found two scrapbooks while cleaning out the family home. Finding these scrapbooks made me realize what a vary brave woman she had been. As a result, instead of harboring resentment towards her (resentment that she earned) I came to have significant admiration for her.
I wish to redo these books as they are in a state of disintegration. However, it is exceptionally difficult for me to work with them. I am very emotional about the subject.
Politicians never give thought to the consequences of wars into which they enter. They have no clue as to the gravity of the collateral damage that accompanies their warring ways. The United States of course had to enter WWII. But, Hitler did not have to begin The War To End All Wars. That war like so many have touched people down through the ages, times long past the end of the war in question. War shapes people for generations to come. Peace begins at home. Not in the country, the state or the city. No peace begins in the heart of the individual. For it is when you get peaceful individuals together, one at a time that real peace begins to grow into a movement. It becomes sizable and a peaceful nation is born.
The following paragraph is taken word for word out from Wikipedia:
“On 31 December, the Daily Mail took the unusual step of publishing the photographer’s account of how he took the picture:[
I focused at intervals as the great dome loomed up through the smoke. Glares of many fires and sweeping clouds of smoke kept hiding the shape. Then a wind sprang up. Suddenly, the shining cross, dome and towers stood out like a symbol in the inferno. The scene was unbelievable. In that moment or two I released my shutter.” – Herbert Mason
LIZ RICE-SOSNE a.k.a. Raven Spirit (noh where), perhaps the oldest friend to Bardo, is the newest member of The Bardo Group Core Team. She is also our new Voices for Peace project outreach coordinator and our go-to person for all things related to haiku. She says she “writes for no reason at all. It is simply a pleasure.” Blogging, mostly poetry, has produced numerous friends for whom she has a great appreciation. Liz is an experienced blogger, photographer and a trained shaman. We think her middle name should be “adventure.”
♦
BLOGGERS IN PLANET LOVE
PLEASE JOIN US: Beginning at 7 p.m. PST this evening, we are celebrating Valentine’s Day with love – not the love of and for another person – but our love for our mother planet ….
WE INVITE ALL writers, poets, artists, photographers, musicians and other creatives to join us at The Bardo Group for our Valentine’s Day event, BLOGGERS IN PLANET LOVE. Link in your work that shares your appreciation for the beauty of nature or your concern for environmental issues. You can share the url to your post via Mr. Linky, which will stay up for seventy-two hours. Corina Ravenscraft (DragonDreams) hosts. Jamie Dedes (The Poet by Day) will visit sites and comment. We hope you will also visit others and comment on their work, lending support and encouragement and making connection.
If tonight is date-night for you, remember that you do have seventy-two hours to link your work in. It doesn’t have to be a new or recent piece, just something in the spirit of the event, something that expresses your love of our planet.
Photo credit ~ Tropical Rainforest, Fatu Hiva Island, Marquesas Islands, French Polynesia by Benutzerseite: Makemake via German language Wikipedia under CC A-SA 3.0 Unported license.
would I were sure-footed,
not stumble, fall for you,
be exposed on craggy precipice,
tumble into blue.
would the wind might carry me,
to distant, silky shore
holding my heart tenderly
breaking it no more.
then would I dance lightly,
arabesque with perfect poise
never losing my sure-footing
never hear the rushing noise
of pulsing rivered life-blood
coursing through my veins
as fool, I step off madly
to break my heart again.
copyright 2013 Niamh Clune
DR. NIAMH CLUNE (Plum Tree Books Blog) ~ is the author of the Skyla McFee series: Orange Petals in a Storm, and Exaltation of a Rose. She is also the author of The Coming of the Feminine Christ: a ground-breaking spiritual psychology. Niamh received her Ph.D. from Surrey University on Acquiring Wisdom Through The Imagination and specialises in The Imaginal Mind and how the inborn, innate wisdom hidden in the soul informs our daily lives and stories. Niamh’s books are available in paperback (children’s books) and Kindle version (The Coming of the Feminine Christ). Dr. Clune is the CEO of Plum Tree Books and Art. Its online store is HERE. Niamh’s Amazon page is HERE.
maybe a thing about particles and waves
or wave-particles and the way light works
and moves, the way soulmates’ eyes ignite
into stardust, the way some ancient god
smiled and blinked, flicked an able wrist
to strew some billion stars across a darkly
barren sky, then asked his goddess to
suspend the yellow moon, a caress so
softly lighted, it stirred the hopeful hearts of
night-blooming lovers into endless devotion,
though for sure the years run like the cheetah
and soon-or-late all hearts quake asunder,
just as sure as moonlight and stardust and
the way a true love fills in the fault lines
A ROMANTIC VALENTINE’S DAY POST because Valentine’s Day itself will be devoted to our BLOGGERS IN PLANET LOVE event, which will start on Valentine’s Day at 7 p.m., that is Friday, February 14. We invite writers, poets, artists, musicians and other creatives to join in by linking your work that shares your appreciation for the beauty of nature or your concern for environmental issues. You can share the url to your post via Mr. Linky, which will stay up for seventy-two hours. Corina Ravenscraft (DragonDreams) hosts and Jamie Dedes (The Poet by Day) will visit sites and comment. We hope you will also visit others and comment on their work, lending support and encouragement.
JAMIE DEDES (The Poet by Day)~ I am a mother and a medically retired (disabled) elder. The graces of poetry, art, music, writing and reading continue to evolve as a sources of wonder and solace, as a creative outlet, and as a part of my spiritual practice.
When you still fit
my arms
like an instrument
beating rhythms
at my heart, you would, at times,
cry without cease,
without reason–without reason that I
could reason out–and I, almost without
reason myself, would play a music
of Kora and guitar
in which the strings,
sounding of bells,
plucked us from the closed-in walls
and wails,
lifted us
from the hard wood floor we walked, transported us
to some bigger brighter world where sun streamed
vibrationally, where leaves echoed, where
life strolled, where tears caught in scrunched cheeks seemed almost
ripples re-centering a well
on a day when one
craved water, a natural wrinkle
of wells and water.
Whirled shine glinted
upon our faces whether we looked
up or down, and even though, in that apartment,
metal gates shadowed the nearest windows;
we knew–even as an infant you could hear–
that the music held want as well
as tinkle, that knells mourn even as
they proclaim, that the lone also
harmonizes,
still you at last would smile, me
too, as if both of us were tuned
by those stringed scales,
so gratefully tethered.
Kora ~ a twenty-one string bridge-harp used extensively in West Africa
KARIN GUSTAFSON (Manicddaily) ~ a guest contributor to Bardo focuses (sometimes) on the interface between creativity and stress, with a side of little elephant drawings. She is a writer and illustrator, having published a collection of poetry, Going on Somewhere, a children’s counting book, 1 Mississippi ( for lovers of light, water. and pachyderms) and, most recently,Nose Dive, a light-hearted mystery novel about teenagers, Broadway musicals, love, noses, New York City. (More information about the books may be found at www.BackStrokeBooks.com and at Amazon.) Since July 2009, Karin has been engaging visitors to her blog with her observations, poetry and artwork, especially her elephant sketches and cartoons. She is an active participant in d’Verse Poets Pub and a member of its d’Team.
In one hand, the ruddy-faced,
ragged wanderer wraps a coffee cup
and his smoke. The other he keeps
in the pocket of his third-hand Mets jacket.
Whether he’s grasping something within
or just trying to keep it warm
is a mystery. Chances are 4-to-1
no cash shares those five fingers’ berth.
Joyous, the drifter throws smiles
like sunbeams right into the faces
of the straight-life, shivering souls with whom
he coasts these stark morning streets.
Their eyes are up too, but they focus
past the runny-nosed no one shuffling nearby,
seeing instead only the faces in the
steamed-up coffee-shop window.
The same familiar, frowning reflections
as yesterday’s.
JOSEPH HESCH (A Thing for Words) is a writer and poet from Albany, New York , an old friend of Bardo and a new core team member. Joe’s work is published in journals and anthologies coast-to-coast and worldwide. He posts poems and stories-in-progress on his blog, A Thing for Words. An original staff member at dVerse Poets Pub website, Joe was named one of Writers Digest Editor Robert Lee Brewer’s “2011 Best Tweeps for Writers to Follow.” He is also a member of the Grass Roots Poetry Group and featured in their 2013 poetry anthology Petrichor Rising.
The fence we walked between the years
Did balance us serene;
It was a place half in the sky where
In the green of leaf and promising of peach
We’d reach our hands to touch and almost touch the sky,
If we could reach and touch, we said,
‘Twould teach us not to, never to, be dead.
We ached and almost touched that stuff;
Our reach was never quite enough.
If only we had taller been,
And touched God’s cuff, His hem,
We would not have to sleep away and go with them
Who’ve gone before,
Who, short as we, stood tall as they could stand
And hoped by stretching thus to keep their land,
Their home, their hearth, their flesh and soul.
But they, like us, were standing in a hole.
O, Thomas, will a Race one day stand really tall
Across the Void, across the Universe and all?
And measured out with rocket fire,
At last put Adam’s finger forth
As on the Sistine Ceiling,
And God’s hand come down the other way
To measure Man and find him Good,
And Gift him with Forever’s Day?
I work for that.
Short man. Large dream. I send my rockets forth between my ears,
Hoping an inch of Good is worth a pound of years.
Aching to hear a voice cry back along the universal Mall:
We’ve reached Alpha Centauri!
We’re tall, O God, we’re tall!
Ray Bradbury’s When Elephants Last in the Doorway Bloomed is a collection of poems in which he writes wistfully about childhood and about inventors, scientist, and explorers, often using religious imagery.
With January’s ice-scrim mist,
this riverside neighborhood
turns back to photo-proof
black, white and gauzy gray.
Holiday colors have faded
like mid-September memories.
Tinder-dry once-evergreens,
erstwhile harlequin window beacons
for passing ice-breakers,
now lie exhausted on streetside,
snow-dusted Christmas gravestones,
waiting for the herald crash and call
of the trash collecting Rapture.
And ice-darkened perennial trees,
stand sentinel nearby
at snow-footed attention,
lean black cemetery guardsmen,
their uniforms on backorder
until a too faraway Spring.
This poem came from my walks and runs along the Hudson shore over the past 20 years. During the holidays, you could see the gumdrop-lit Christmas trees in windows over in Rensselaer. By early January, they were gone, the snow had come and the ice had choked the river. “Rapture in Rivertown” is what I recall and imagine of those days.
JOSEPH HESCH (A Thing for Words) is a writer and poet from Albany, New York , an old friend of Bardo and a new core team member. Joe’s work is published in journals and anthologies coast-to-coast and worldwide. He posts poems and stories-in-progress on his blog, A Thing for Words. An original staff member at dVerse Poets Pub website, Joe was named one of Writers Digest Editor Robert Lee Brewer’s “2011 Best Tweeps for Writers to Follow.” He is also a member of the Grass Roots Poetry Group and featured in their 2013 poetry anthology Petrichor Rising.
Many writers, myself included, are in love with words. In some traditions, words acquire a sacred dimension. Creation comes into being through God’s word in the Hebrew scripture. The Word became flesh in Christian belief. I often use the letters of the Hebrew alphabet to lead me into meditation as they are considered to hold the power of creation and are full of symbolic meaning and creative energy.
A few years ago I read a book by Rabbi David Cooper titled “God is a Verb.” His understanding is that God has not ceased the work of creation and that God asks us to become co-creators with him. Rabbi Cooper calls this activity of God God-ing and refers to our participation as, for example, David-ing in his case, or, in mine, Victoria-ing. As each of us uses our talents in art or writing or photography we continue the work of creation. So take your own name, add that –ing and go to it!
Image: history.com
For today’s post and writing prompt, I’d like to take a look at the role of verbs. When I first ventured into the world of creative writing, one of my major flaws involved an abundant use of passive voice and boring verbs, hyperbolic adjectives and taxing adverbs…perhaps because so much of my early writing emerged in the context of business. Although I haven’t yet “arrived,” participation in critique groups and reading about the art of writing, offered an important insight: active verbs give life to prose and poetry. My earlier attempts to create character and description often fell flat.
Adverbs and adjectives are part of our language for a reason—to add color, texture and other artistic elements to our verbal armory, but discriminating use of these words, peppered with verbs that rock, do make a difference. While there is a role for telling and judicious use of passive voice, success lies in knowing how to achieve balance.
Here are a couple of examples/definitions of what I’m trying to say:
Passive voice—when something is done to the object: The child was bitten by a bee.
Active voice, the subject is the doer: The bee bit the child.
And overuse of adjectives and adverbs: The hefty pass-kicker adroitly kicked the ball between the goal post in spite of the blustery wind.
I’d like to share a poem posted by fellow poet, Jane Hewey on her blog:
Scar Hopping Copyright: Jane Hewey
Glacial divides bypass
the dusty canyons thrusting
their will. Moons crawl
through midnights; I want
to touch your singular hurt, wrap it with my hands
and light-soaked cloths.
I would warm it through
your thick white skin, force myself
into its cold-singe. I want
to evoke you out of the scar
like arctic char augured
from an eight inch ice hole.
I’ve added italics to some of the singular verb and verb derivatives (such as gerunds) Jane chose. While she does use descriptors, the verbs add so much to the flow and strength of the poem.
I hope this inspire you to write a poem, flash fiction or essay incorporating a rich use of verbs. You may want to select something from your archives that never quite satisfied you and try to spice it us a bit. Maybe it’s heavy on adverbs and adjectives, even bordering on “purple prose.” Or grab a dictionary and discover a verb or two that’s new to you.
Feel free to share your results, if you like. To join in:
Write your poem and post it on your blog or website;
Copy and paste the direct URL to your poem to Mr. Linky at the bottom of this post, adding your name or identifier where he prompts you;
I’ll visit you and comment and we hope that you will visit and encourage one another
Above all, have fun and remember—you are a co-creator!
Special thanks to Jane for allowing me to share her copyrighted poem
Image: foxhugh.com
.
(Portions of this post were recently offered at dVerse Poets’ Pub, another site for which I write each month. If you write poetry and are not familiar with this poetry community, it is a source of excellent articles about all things poetic and offers several prompts each week, including a night for Open Links!)
_____________
Victoria at the Palm Springs Writer’s Expo March 2012
how well
do you
need to know
a soul
to
care
do you
need to be
on
a first-name basis
or
have shared
some common
moment of
pain
or
epiphany
or
is
your
faith
enough
CHARLES W. MARTIN (Reading Between the Minds) — earned his Ph.D. in Speech and Language Pathology with an emphasis in statistics. Throughout Charlie’s career, he maintained a devotion to the arts (literature/poetry, the theater, music and photography). Since his retirement in 2010, he has turned his full attention to poetry and photography. He publishes a poem and a photographic art piece each day at Read Between the Minds, Poetry, Photograph and Random Thoughts of Life. He is noted as a poet of social conscience. Charlie has been blogging since January 31, 2010. He has self-published a book of poetry entitled The Hawk Chronicles and will soon publish another book called A Bea in Your Bonnet: First Sting, featuring the renown Aunt Bea. In The Hawk Chronicles, Charlie provides a personification of his resident hawk with poems and photos taken over a two-year period. Charlie’s lastest book, When Spirits Touch, Dual Poetry, a collaboration with River Urke, is available through Amazon now.
I am sitting here trying to remember what prompted me to write one haiku per day during the first 6 months of 2012. I was ill, that was the first reason for doing so. I wished to remain connected to my writing community, keep alive my connection with the friends that I had met online. I knew that I could not manage an article daily so I needed to write something short. I decided that haiku was the answer. Was there any shorter form of poetry? The learning and the writing that year became for me a spiritual experience. It taught me to see the world through a new and different lens. I am so grateful for this experience
I have always been drawn to haiku even when young. What can be said in 17 syllables, those three short lines of 5, 7, 5 syllables? It would be easy – just compose three short lines of poetry a day. Those thoughts will tell you just how little I knew of haiku when I began. Experience has shown me that many Americans have little knowledge of haiku seeing it simply as three lines of poetry with the 5-7-5-syllable count. If seen this way the reader and writer of haiku will never be fully satisfied.
The first thing that one should know is that the syllable count fits Japanese words or syllables. Japanese words or syllables are nothing like English language syllables. When attempting to write a haiku there are many things to consider before considering the word count. The second thing that I learned is that it is often written in one line. Just one. In Japan that line is often written from top to bottom. It is vertical. I do not write vertically.
Poignancy in haiku is important. The most important thing about haiku for me is very hard to put into language. For I see haiku as a language all its own. A haiku ties things together. Haiku conveys the depths of nature’s beauty and its power. Haiku shows ones relationship with nature. One haiku can express in a few words what it might take a psychologist an entire magazine article to profess. Haiku can evoke within the reader new understanding. I equate haiku to light. It can dazzle in brightness. It can illuminate a path. It can act as a halo separating yet conjoining reader and writer through the poem. You are placed within the poem. Haiku connects the ancient with the modern, the light with the dark, and nature with man/womankind.
The book to which I turn most often for reference is “The Haiku Handbook, How To Share Write and Teach Haiku,” by William J. Higginson. I would go so far as to say that he has he has “lived” haiku, making his teachings easy to understand and to apply. When writing haiku my goal is to be living in the moment, to be “living haiku.” It is a spiritual moment. I wish to express that moment to you so that you feel what I feel. I believe Higginson tells us that haiku is about the eloquence of sharing those feelings. It is easy to say to your friend: “the sky is beautiful.” But in doing so, you do not really convey what you feel. Nor are you conveying any degree of real beauty. According to Higginson, when we share the depths of what we feel through haiku we are building community. What more important act is there?
The first thing that I do when writing a haiku is search for a kigo. A kigo is a season word and mandatory in haiku. Your haiku should be driven by what you feel for your subject and your choice of kigo. I view the kigo as an anchor. There are numerous kigo databases online. New words are always being added.
We have just experienced a foot of snow here in the midwest. The last time we had so much snow was 1982. This is an immense weather event here. Along with subzero temperatures accompanied by wind many of us are pretty much homebound. I would like to share this large weather experience with you by writing a haiku. I edit and re-edit before I am happy with them. Each of these are a part of my process for creating one haiku.
wall of snow – broken branches dangling from trees (this sounds awkward to me)
or
deep white snow – hidden branches (this coveys little feeling)
or
drifting snow – a chickadee’s cap (this possesses the essence of what I am looking for)
LIZ RICE-SOSNE a.k.a. Raven Spirit (noh where), perhaps the oldest friend to Bardo, is the newest member of The Bardo Group Core Team. She is also our new Voices for Peace project outreach coordinator and our go-to person for all things related to haiku. She says she “writes for no reason at all. It is simply a pleasure.” Blogging, mostly poetry, has produced numerous friends for whom she has a great appreciation. Liz is an experienced blogger, photographer and a trained shaman. We think her middle name should be “adventure.”
once or twice in a lifetime an ancient returns showing the way not as a prophet or god-like figure but as a man or a woman willing to expend all their life forces to open the minds of all those willing to listen and do as they have done the world always sees them and offers up great praise so when they die mourners shed tears in the rain but the world quickly loses its way in the fog of greed until the next ancient is reborn
. CHARLES W. MARTIN (Reading Between the Minds) — earned his Ph.D. in Speech and Language Pathology with an emphasis in statistics. Throughout Charlie’s career, he maintained a devotion to the arts (literature/poetry, the theater, music and photography). Since his retirement in 2010, he has turned his full attention to poetry and photography. He publishes a poem and a photographic art piece each day at Read Between the Minds, Poetry, Photograph and Random Thoughts of Life. He is noted as a poet of social conscience. Charlie has been blogging since January 31, 2010. He has self-published a book of poetry entitled The Hawk Chronicles and will soon publish another book called A Bea in Your Bonnet: First Sting, featuring the renown Aunt Bea. In The Hawk Chronicles, Charlie provides a personification of his resident hawk with poems and photos taken over a two-year period. Charlie’s lastest book, When Spirits Touch, Dual Poetry, a collaboration with River Urke, is available through Amazon now.
I saw them emerge from the shadow of shadows
that blanketed the alley connecting
Orange Street to Sheridan Avenue,
a vacant-eyed lane of abandoned houses
you wouldn’t wish to travel in
well-strapped daylight. Into the hazy edge
of a lemon-light circle beneath the lone
strobing street lamp they edged,
this young couple and their baby.
Behind him, the young man dragged
a shopping trolley that held a suitcase,
some groceries and a few presents.
The young woman held her infant close
against her breast to protect it—
from the cold or the city, I couldn’t judge—
as the snow decided it was its time.
As I drove past, upon the railings
of the darkened doorways, tiny lights
blinked and from within one a familial
brightness shone as they entered.
A once-a-year peace came over all
of us in that place, at that time,
and I thought “What a fine night,”
that silent night in Arbor Hill.
This is the true Christmas Eve story of leaving my office in the old Times Union newspaper building during my years working there, inside the eastern edges of the Arbor Hill neighborhood in downtown Albany. I couldn’t believe what I saw, either. But there they were, this tiny family. That tableau has stayed with me for seven years. And today, between noon and 1:00, it became yours, too. A most peaceful and joyous of holidays to you all, friends.
JOSEPH HESCH (A Thing for Words) is a writer and poet from Albany, New York , an old friend of Bardo and a new core team member. Joe’s work is published in journals and anthologies coast-to-coast and worldwide. He posts poems and stories-in-progress on his blog, A Thing for Words. An original staff member at dVerse Poets Pub website, Joe was named one of Writers Digest Editor Robert Lee Brewer’s “2011 Best Tweeps for Writers to Follow.” He is also a member of the Grass Roots Poetry Group and featured in their 2013 poetry anthology Petrichor Rising.
Recently, I took a personality test that was required for a program I am participating in. Sometimes, I feel like the most tested person in the world! Meyers Brigg, Gary Smalley, MMPI, an actual interview with a therapist—and I think there were other tests. My organization really, really wants their people to be healthy!
The unique thing about the most recent test – called the DISC – is that it created a public and private personality profile. My “two” personalities were not far off of each other, but they were different. Most significantly, my “D” or dominance trait is very high publicly and only moderately high privately. Meaning, I am bossy.
What a surprise!
Privately, though, my bossiness is exactly balanced with my expressive part of my personality. Meaning, I can be obnoxiously loud! Loud and bossy!
An even bigger surprise!
Not.
Those are just the harsh ways of looking at my personality. Really, I am the head of an organization – if I can’t provide direction, the organization will not succeed. And the expressive + directing can equal playful and silly. Or dramatic. That is the private me.
Question: What does this have to do with spiritual practices or sacred space?
Everything! There is the old adage, “Know thyself.” But it is also, “Know Your Story!” And “Tell Your Story!” (The whole expressive personality thing = exclamation points.)
I am reading a book called Your Mythic Journey by Sam Keen and Anne Valley-Fox. They go into a discussion of public and private personas. Sometimes we think about our authentic selves like it is only possible to be fulfilled if we are 100% “authentic.” Maybe. The questions that spring to my mind are: “Who is your authentic self?” “Is your public self any less important than your private self?” “Are we allowed to protect our fragile bits and keep them private?” “Can we hold personas these in dialogue?” “Is the private self always the healthy self?”
And on, and on.
Today, I’d like to encourage you to glimpse your public and private self through creating a fill-in-the-blank scenarios and then looking at all the words you accumulate to create a revelatory product that illumines the sacred being that we all are.
Pen and paper in hand, sit back and follow the prompts.
Your Public Self
Make a list of 10 words or phrases that best describe you using the prompt, “I am ______________ .”
Now rank the words/phrases in order of importance
Now cross them out one at a time until you are left with your most important trait.
I am playful.
I am smart.
I am disorganized.
I am also organized.
I am faith-filled.
I am compassionate.
I am loud.
I am wise.
I am filled with ideas.
I am creative.
…
I am compassionate.
I am playful.
I am creative.
I am filled with ideas.
I am faith-filled.
I am smart.
I am loud.
I am wise.
I am also organized.
I am disorganized.
What is your revelatory word? Please leave your word in the comments section to share.
If you would like to take this one step further, I encourage to take your 10 words/phrases and use them as word prompts to create a micro-poem (using as many or as few of the words as you like).
playful love
spatters life dripping
with painted ideas
of
dazzling pinks, blues, and yellows.
swarming compassionately
and loudly causing
chaos
while held together
in
sophic faith.
i. am.
Of course, my private self is not quite so lovey-dovey, dazzling pink, or wise. Often the chaos is on the rise internally or the struggles I have with health are masked out. But that will be a post for another day. Today, embrace the sacred space that you present to the world. I believe that when we don’t have enough faith in our own abilities to be compassionate or loving or wise, we can live into that reality until our inner space matches our outer space.
Shalom and Amen.
~Terri
P.S. I’d love to invite you over for a quick look at the Advent reflections that have been offered at BeguineAgain.com
REV. TERRI STEWART is Into the Bardo’s Sunday chaplain, senior content editor, and site co-administrator. She comes from an eclectic background and considers herself to be grounded in contemplation and justice. She is the Director and Founder of the Youth Chaplaincy Coalition that serves youth affected by the justice system. As a graduate of Seattle University’s School of Theology and Ministry, she earned her Master’s of Divinity and a Post-Master’s Certificate in Spiritual Direction. She is a contributing author to the Abingdon Worship Annual. (The 2014 issue just released!)
CHARLES W. MARTIN (Reading Between the Minds) — earned his Ph.D. in Speech and Language Pathology with an emphasis in statistics. Throughout Charlie’s career, he maintained a devotion to the arts (literature/poetry, the theater, music and photography). Since his retirement in 2010, he has turned his full attention to poetry and photography. He publishes a poem and a photographic art piece each day at Read Between the Minds, Poetry, Photograph and Random Thoughts of Life. He is noted as a poet of social conscience. Charlie has been blogging since January 31, 2010. He has self-published a book of poetry entitled The Hawk Chronicles and will soon publish another book called A Bea in Your Bonnet: First Sting, featuring the renown Aunt Bea. In The Hawk Chronicles, Charlie provides a personification of his resident hawk with poems and photos taken over a two-year period. Charlie’s lastest book, When Spirits Touch, Dual Poetry, a collaboration with River Urke, is available through Amazon now.
The BeZine 