How Am I?

• Outside my window... I notice branches swaying in a slight wind, signaling an incoming weather change that will deliver rain.
• I am thinking... about taking a walk.
• I am thankful for... my local Buy Nothing group -- neighbors who help me cull belongings that are still useful that I no longer want or need.
• I am wearing... my standard outfit of leggings, and an oversized sweater decorated with cats sleeping in a yin-yang position.
• I am creating... daily collage quilts, which is a deeply peaceful and intuitive practice: see them here.
• I am hearing... the dishwasher murmur just beneath the trip-hop music playing on my computer.
• I am remembering... how wrecked and displaced I felt on this day in 2020, when I was grieving my mother and extremely worried about Covid.
• I am going... to the post office to mail five packages to my Open Studio sisters.
• I am reading... a novel, Sacre Bleu, by Christopher Moore, and for nonfiction I'm reading A Walk in the Park: The True Story of a Spectacular Misadventure in the Grand Canyon, by Kevin Fedarko.
• I am hoping... that my sweet rabbit Misty is calm; she's undergoing x-rays today to determine the extent of cancer in her little body.
• On my mind... the many adulting tasks to attend to, such as taxes, finalizing my trust and will, doctor appointments.
• Noticing that... the clock on the wall is stopped at 2:10, and I find this confusing every time I glance at it.
• Pondering these words... that yesterday, Bad Bunny said "God bless America," and then listed all the countries in all the Americas, which I appreciated.
• One of my favorite things... is a cup of strong black coffee.
• From the kitchen... there isn't much happening. At least it's clean!
• Around the house... I can see it could use a good dusting (adding it to the list of tasks).
• A few plans for the rest of the week... seeing clients, attending new volunteer orientation for Action for Happiness, and taking my child to the DMV to get a REAL ID.
• Here is picture I am sharing... of a recent acquisition, my screaming goat pillow!

Eva Cassidy - Over The Rainbow

Our Life's Prayer

Our Life’s Prayer

Carnal syrup which flows within,
why not make it art?
It has been spilled
enough to fill
the gloomy pit of Tartarus.
Ferry to us the draught of life.
Preserve us from dissolution,
for our gene codes fight dauntlessly,
against this.
Be not used to segregate others,
for humanity is one tribe.
Thou are the mystery, the
sinew, and the richness
that makes our lives worth living. Yes.

-Kathryn Harper 

This poem was written using a style called ekphrasis. The photograph is of a piece by René de Guzman and is titled Blood Color Theory. His artworks allude to current issues such as the HIV/AIDS crisis in the early 1990s. In this piece, de Guzman sandwiched his own blood, mixed with preservatives, between two Plexiglass sheets. The work's impact lies partly in the shock value to convey the message, and the work takes on the formal qualities of a minimalist painting. What I find intriguing are the images reflected. This poem, which echoes The Lord's Prayer, is the result. 

When I Go Into the Woods

  

When I Go Into the Woods

When I go to the woods
I bring no books along
preferring instead to read
the primary sources:

the opinion columns of pines
persuasive essays by incense cedars
an array of novels from oak trees.
Quaking aspens are poetry of light
and movement.

There is philosophy in fallen logs.
I study the hieroglyphs of former
wildfires to glean memories
of the Before time.

Even dead trees have purpose
as nurseries for animals and plants;
the rhymes arising from them
are kissed by the wind,
then float away.

-Kathryn Harper

Surreal

Surreal 

At the turn of the century
it is a long way down
to the mind's I. A treehouse
chronicles my journey to this
lost continent, which requires
the amber spyglass to navigate.
When I arrive I am barely a
shadow of a man. There is
snow falling on cedars; through
the woods I hear the single hound
wailing for her hometown. After
twenty years at Hull House, she
mourns for that bastard out of
Carolina who left her tender
at the bone. I wander through
trees toward her cries and find
her. My journey ends across the
river, past the canal town. Before
crossing over, I ask her for
directions. "I don't know," she
replies. "I'm a stranger here myself."

-Kathryn Harper

Another Cento poem. The titles:

• Turn of the Century (Kurt Andersen)
• A Long Way Down
• The Mind's I: Fantasies and Reflections on Self and Soul
• Treehouse Chronicles: One Man's Dream of a Life Aloft (S. Peter Lewis)
• The Lost Continent: Travels in Small Town America
• The Amber Spyglass
• Shadow of a Man
• Snow Falling on Cedars
• Through the Woods (H.E. Bates)
• The Single Hound (May Sarton)
• Bastard Out of Carolina
• Tender at the Bone: Growing Up at the Table
• Canal Town
• Crossing Over (Ruben Martinez)
• I'm a Stranger Here Myself: Notes on Returning to America After 20 Years Away

There’s Always Looking After

There’s Always Looking After

A tree is a guardian angel.

Trees talk to us, they
whisper stories and secrets,
slip us clues to universal mysteries.
Do you see the forest, or the trees?
Sap murmurs up the trunk in spring. Listen.
The apple falls (not far from the tree), its
crisp honey tang for the taking. Notice
how the air changes when you approach
a woods; the fresh, spicy scent of leaves
and needles performing their gift of tonglen.
Handle limbs gently. Despite their
coarseness, trees are benign as babies.

Autumn. My favorite elegy. Red orange yellow
each color a note, a symphony of glorious
death. Gaia’s last hurrah before hibernation.

Glorious death. The nativity of Jesus in
Bethlehem was honored by his parents, wise
shepherds, angels — even animals. But not
one tree except for the remnant serving
as his crib. Look what happened to him.
Whereas Buddha, under a Bodhi tree,
received the gift of enlightenment.

Beware. Trees are destroyers. When touched
by lightning (not an angel), in a rhumba
with the wind, trees release limbs as
geckos lose their tails. They surrender
responsibility, abandon stability,
crush what lies beneath. A shard
of wood thrown by a tornado can kill you.

How many angels are there? They number
more than all the leaves on all the trees
since Big Time began. Earth — head
of a pin on which all trees dance.
Those trees, they krunk in a hot minute.
We just don’t see them. They move so fast.

A baby is born. A sapling takes root.
As roots grow, her neurons multiply.
They amputated the tree in our yard
the other day. Am I going to die now?

A tree is a livin’ thin’, wif it’s own
varmintality, expressed by it’s shape,
texture, locashun, seasonal variashuns,
shade/sun alterashun, th’ emoshuns it
invokes in th’ obsarver, th’ memo’ies
it stimulates in th’ obsarver. A tree
lives as long as a hoomin, o’ longer,
an’ faces th’ elements day-in an’
day-out. To sacrifice a tree is a kind
of euthanasia. A tree thet yo’ plant
today will outlive yo’, an’ affeck other
hoomins in th’ future junerashuns… but
will only be thar IF yo’ an’ yer projuny
own th’ lan’ on which th’ tree thrives.
Own SOME lan’, somewhar, an’ put trees
on it, an’ viset an’ watch them grow.

The ancient forests of knowledge
hidden in dusky, musty library stacks
have become my land. My mind, my tree
of knowledge, thrives. It is all I have.
On this moonless night everything
telescopes, clarifies. Brightness erupts
from inky black. The dark night of the soul
is really a form of enlightenment.

I fall on my knees, praying to No God.
The god of no. I sway in the wind, yearning
to be struck, to plummet, to become the abyss
that annihilates, that looks into me. Oh,
the ecstasy of descent! I cry for it.

Mindful One, she thinks too much. She dwells
inside her head, sips the ink of books too
often. For all her lofty talk about meaning
and nature, she lives indoors, estranged.
Reconciliation is possible. The priest
intones, you are dust and to dust you shall
return. So it shall be. A reunion.

Yes! A gorgeous reunion. A gorgeous death.
It shall be as it is, unless it is as it shall
be. Remember, nascentes morimur. The voice is
relentless, paralyzing. Death, inevitable from
the beginning of my existence. My destiny, our
destiny, is to become nothing.

Not so, whisper the trees. Willow weeps over my
rigid despair. A pine tree caresses my hair.
You do not become nothing. You become everything.

The body becomes a corpse. The corpse rots, feeds
maggots and beetles, enriches the soil. A squirrel
foraging embeds a nut, forgets it. The nut germinates.
A sapling grows, slowly. Outside of time. Watching over.
Witnessing the Mystery. There’s always looking after.

-Kathryn Harper

I wrote this poem 20 years ago, following this exercise from The Practice of Poetry:

This exercise comes from page 119 of The Practice of Poetry: Writing Exercises From Poets Who Teach, edited by Robin Behn and Chase Twichell. The goal of the exercise is to write a poem that includes these twenty suggesetions:

1. Begin the poem with a metaphor.
2. Say something specific but utterly preposterous.
3. Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout the poem.
4. Use one example of synesthesia.
5. Use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place.
6. Contradict something you said earlier in the poem.
7. Change direction or digress from the last thing you said.
8. Use a word (slang?) you've never seen in a poem.
9. Use an example of false cause-effect logic.
10. Use a piece of "talk" you've actually heard (preferably in dialect and/or which you don't understand).
11. Create a metaphor using the following construction: "The (adjective) (concrete noun) of (abstract noun) . . . ."
12. Use an image in such a way as to reverse its usual associative qualities.
13. Make the persona in the poem do something he/she would not do in "real life."
14. Refer to yourself by nickname and in the third person.
15. Write in the future tense, such that part of the poem seems to be a prediction.
16. Modify a noun with an unlikely adjective.
17. Make a declarative assertion that sounds convincing but that finally makes no sense.
18. Use a phrase from a language other than English.
19. Make a nonhuman object say or do something human (personification).
20. Close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement, but that "echoes" an image from earlier in the poem. 

No Place Too Small

No Place Too Small

It is easy to know how to meld with so much grief.
With joy there is blindness, rose-colored ignorance,
No body to tend, to anchor one to the earth.
When the world remains intact, you move nimbly,
Caressing the surface of things, noticing little.

But grief burrows in.
It needs only the exposed, wounded soul
To dig in as a tick under skin.
Grief bangs around the cellar, shrieking,
behaves unpredictably, hijacking your eyes
When the store clerk asks how you are. Clutching your
throat when you call the dentist’s office for a cleaning.

You walk now among oblivious humans,
an emotional leper
With lesions rotting your heart.
All of existence has its own death,
It too could slip into a tumor-ridden coma
Adorned with catheter tubes,
And gasp last breaths to the sterile beat
Of a monitor, attended by loved ones.

Since there is no place too small
For grief to infiltrate,
You lie down, surrender, pull it
to every cell of your being.
You take orders, as a dog obeys commands
From an owner; you honor and bear it,
And in this way, endure.

–Kathryn Harper

This poem was another exercise in scaffolding. I worked with Naomi Shihab Ney's Kindness.

“Grief” by jan buchholtz, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

One Afternoon

One Afternoon

Bellied up to the kitchen counter
I bite into a pear and chew,
watching the empty hammock shimmy
in the yard. The wind sweeps gray
cotton balls overhead, rushing
them to some destination eastward.
Rubies and topaz fall from tree
branches. I stare, mesmerized,
as juice drips from my chin.

-Kathryn Harper

“The Perfect Pear” by David Gallagher, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 

Impermanence

 

Impermanence

A dead man’s photo peers over my bed
The silent witness who lives in my blood.
Absence is the soul’s starvation diet.
I have been hungry since before I was born.

Plan for madness to heal you.
Plan for sadness to fly.
Plan for hope estranging your happiness.
It surely will.

The finite hours and days,
The years,
Dissolve with relentless measure
And apathy.

This will grieve your heart but release it.
You must not pull back: too late too late to stop.
You carelessly left your spirit alone,
Now seconds plunder its secrets

And take all.
Life perpetuates a feeble trick
on the frail mind:
A creation of memes
Moved by predestination

To obscurity.
The clock lightly ticks and then cocks its gun.
Aims between your eyes.
Are you ready?

-Kathryn Harper

I used James Galvin's Post-Modernism as the scaffold. I attempted to emulate the pace, syllables, and sentence structure. It was a tough exercise and I enjoyed it. 

“Memorial image #2” by jodene e, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

A Bridge Too Far ... On Alex Pretti

The Big Box of Crayons

 

 

 And... even if your box is small, more shades can be made when you mix them.

A Contemplation

A Contemplation

My body is no longer my own. It contains a
sprout like a fiddlehead fern frond, curled
inward on itself.

Microscopic cells mystically multiply
with fervor, their intention known only
to themselves.

While I breathe, while I sleep, whether
I churn like a river or remain a placid lake,
this body has

Its own mission. Summer is coming.

-Kathryn Harper

The Bun

 

she is soft and gray
and likes to play, binking and
zooming around.
she snacks on flowers,
a sentient lawnmower
wherever grasses abound. 

        -Kathryn Harper        

Picture This - Things Are Different

Some of us will drift apart while others stay together

And some will step in from the rain while others face the weather
And some will take their last breath while others breathe new life
And though they're standing on our necks, there's still the will to fight

Just 'cause things are different, don't mean anything has changed
And I know the world's on fire, but there's beauty in the flame
And we don't know how much longer
But we know we're gonna come back stronger, oh-oh
Just 'cause things are different, don't mean anything, anything has changed

Some of us will lose ourselves while others rediscover (ooh)
The lovers and the innocence, a baby to its mother (ooh)
And some will grasp it in their hands while others lose control (ooh)
Yeah, we gotta leave our fingerprints to let the future know, oh

Just 'cause things are different, don't mean anything has changed
And I know the world's on fire, but there's beauty in the flame
And we don't know how much longer
But we know we're gonna come back stronger, oh-oh
Just 'cause things are different, don't mean anything, anything has changed

I'll be the light (eh)
If you follow me, I will be everything you need
I'll be the leader
If you want it, I promise that I will set you free

Just 'cause things are different, don't mean anything has changed
And though the world's on fire, there's beauty in the flame
And we don't know how much longer
But we know we're gonna come back stronger, oh-oh
Just 'cause things are different, don't mean anything, anything has changed

I'll be the light (eh)
If you follow me, I will be everything you need
I'll be the leader
If you want it, I promise that I will set you free (changed)

I'll be the light (eh)
If you follow me, I will be everything you need
I'll be the leader (eh)
If you want it, I promise that I will set you free

Barns Courtney - Glitter & Gold

I am flesh and I am bone
Rise up, ting ting, like glitter and gold
I've got fire in my soul
Rise up, ting ting, like glitter

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Like glitter and gold
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Like glitter

Do you walk in the valley of kings?
Do you walk in the shadow of men
Who sold their lives to a dream?
Do you ponder the manner of things
In the dark
The dark, the dark, the dark

I am flesh and I am bone
I'll rise ting ting like glitter and gold
I've got fire in my soul
Rise up, ting ting, like glitter

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Like glitter and gold
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Like glitter

Do you walk in the meadow of spring?
Do you talk to the animals?
Do you hold their lives from a string?
Do you ponder the manner of things
In the dark
The dark, the dark, the dark

I am flesh and I am bone
I'll rise ting ting like glitter and gold
I've got fire in my soul
Rise up, ting ting, like glitter
I am flesh and I am bone
I'll rise ting ting like glitter and gold
I've got fire in my soul
Rise up, ting ting, like glitter

'Cause everybody in the backroom's spinning out
Don't remember what you're asking for
And everybody in the front room's tripping out
You left your bottle at the door
Cause everybody in the backroom's spinning out
Don't remember what you're asking for
And everybody in the front room's tripping out
You left your bottle at the door

How I Spent Today

I spent part of today participating in the online volunteering with Action for Happiness. 

Originally I was seeking community, a group to visit and participate in locally in person. And perhaps I will find this. However, there are no groups associated with this organization in the western United States, so I figured I'd take the free training and see what develops. 

The training was easy and the concepts are simple. As with much wisdom, simple does not equate with low-effort. Experiencing joy on the regular is a practice; it only develops with continuous effort. 

AFH organizes itself around ten key points that form an acronym: GREAT DREAM. Attending to these keys contribute to one's own happiness as well as that of others. Additionally, not doing harm is a potent contribution to well-being. 

Giving: doing kind things for others

These acts can be small! The driver who is trying to merge into your lane? Let her. Look at the clerk as he rings up your purchase and say hello sincerely. Not adding to unhappiness also counts; if you're tempted to flip someone off because they did something thoughtless, take a breath and let it go.

   

Relating: connect with other people

We live in a digital world, and we've succumbed to the idea that social media is truly connection. To an extent it does provide connection, but in a limited way. We need to share space with others, to speak to people in person, or on the phone in real time engagement. We've got to leave our safe little caves where we watch the shadows on the wall and call that interaction, and take a little risk to participate in the three dimensional world.

 

Exercising: take care of your body

One thing I have discovered in the past three years is that my body -- and yours -- needs to move. And it deserves to move and feel good, even if it's not in great shape or sized according to cultural standards. In August 2022 I realized I was on a bad trajectory with what I ate, how I moved, and the weight I carried. I was in pain, and I knew that the extra weight would create more health problems as I age. So I began to move -- short stints of strength training -- to get strong. Only after I became a bit stronger did I begin to change how I ate. I knew I had to figure out how to eat to drop weight but in a way that didn't make me rebel and drop out. What worked for me was accepting that I need to record what I eat diligently; I can eat whatever I want, but I need to be honest with myself. This enabled me to better understand my energy needs. Three years later, I've dropped 77 pounds. I'm technically still overweight, but it's a whole new life. Exercise makes me feel centered, and sometimes it makes me feel awesome. You deserve to move!

 

Awareness: live mindfully

This buzzword, along with "zen", has permeated culture for the past couple of decades, but what does it really mean? For me, it means pausing, breathing, experiencing my senses, even if for one minute. It means staying off my phone while I eat and actually savoring the food. To listen to the sounds of my neighborhood. To take a break from my buzzing thoughts.

 

Trying Out: keep learning new things

Anything new! A recipe. A hobby. Read a new genre of book. Try a puzzle. Explore Duolingo. Learning keeps us vital. A curious mind prevents boredom.  

 

Direction: have goals to look forward to

What would you like to accomplish or change in your life? It could be a big goal. These are best approached in smaller stages. Or your goal could be to take a vacation, try a new cuisine, or go to bed a bit more regularly for better sleep. 

 

Resilience: find ways to bounce back 

This can be hard. We are evolutionarily designed to look for danger, to be cautious, which can result in seeing threat everywhere, feeling competitive, and judging oneself harshly for falling short. There is one person who will be with you and never leave you: yourself. Our life work is to learn to be our own friend and loving parent to ourselves, even if we did not receive ideal parenting. To try and if we fail, to say, "It's okay. Learning takes effort. I'm allowed to be imperfect and grow." 

 

Emotions: look for what's good

Again, we can get caught in negative assessments and stories of ourselves and others, and of the world. I'm not suggesting you be toxically positive and to ignore feelings such as sadness, disappointment, or anger. I'm asking you not to shortchange yourself by dismissing the good. If you are temperamentally more pessimistic, as I am, this will take effort. In my effort to be "an informed citizen" I find myself doomscrolling the news, but that brings me down. And it helps no one. So I balance this by turning my attention to appreciating the good as much as I can. 

 

Acceptance: be comfortable with who you are

This is a life project. It's connected to resilience. To accept that it's all right to make mistakes, to mess up -- it's a fact of being alive. What matters is learning, and learning to repair when needed. It's knowing some things about yourself that you like, and knowing your strengths, as well as knowing the areas you would like to change or need to improve, and being reasonable with your self-assessment. 

 

Meaning: be part of something bigger

We are not just here for our own satisfaction and gain. We need each other. Humans seek and create meaning in their lives. We are already part of something bigger. This understanding has the potential to make one feel insignificant, but it also means that we belong in the natural order of things. Someone asked me recently what I love about myself. My answer was: "That "I" am a universe of systems and life forms existing in a larger universe of life forms in this mystery." My body is made of cells, systems (skeletal, muscular, vascular, etc.) and bacteria populate it everywhere. All of it contributes to my existence. In turn, I am part of a family, a city, a state, a country, a culture, the human race, the world, the universe. I interact with all of it and have impact. I matter. So do you.

Perhaps you'd like to join me?

NPR Tiny Desk Contest 2023 - Andrea Gibson - MAGA HAT IN THE CHEMO ROOM

 

 

Andrea Gibson's brilliant force has departed their body. They were a beacon of courage and compassion communicated through poetry. I mourn our loss. May their brilliance and love manifest forever. 

 

Andrea Gibson's website.

 

Andrea Gibson's Substack.

The Surface of Life

 "Work keeps you on the surface of life. Without work you will sink down into your mind: ‘I don’t like this, I don’t want this, I can’t do this.’ You will drown there. So you must work. Nothing to make you rich, but enough to stay on the surface."

-Humans of New York

Recognition

Recognition

Playing truth or dare an hour before daylight
among the bean trees, I encounter a stranger at the gate.
When I ask what she is doing, she replies,
“Composing a life.” She seeks to answer the question,
“Is there no place on earth for me?”

I ask how she will know the answer, and she says
she will track her progress in the stone diaries.
She has an amazing grace, this girl with a pearl earring
wearing borrowed finery, and I want to know more.
I ask with an open heart, open mind, what it is she seeks.

She wants to understand the savage inequalities,
to have a reckoning with the fact that she lives
in a world where the poisonwood bible increasingly
becomes the rule of law. She wants to help people
to stop running with scissors and enjoy the perfection
of the morning.

We are surrounded by landscapes of wonder, if we
would only make the effort to see differently.

She in turn asks what I seek. I reply that I want
the courage to be, to cast a slender thread
of hope into the sea, the sea of humanity.
I want to plant new seeds of contemplation,
embrace the grace in dying. I want to
know the mystery of tying rocks to clouds.

From her angle of repose under oleander,
jacaranda, the magnificent spinster listens.
I tell her she has a beautiful mind, that
I can see the molecules of emotion swirling in her.
She tells me that I am a succulent wild woman,
that I have zen under a wing. She reminds me
that art is a way of knowing and solitude
a return to the self.

Then we part, blessing each other with traveling
mercies, with a promise to meet again
at the healing circle in Gilead.

-Kathryn Harper

This poem was a little exercise that I later learned is a form called a Cento, but in this case I used titles of books I have read to create an entire experience. I will share the books here:

• Truth or Dare: Encounters with Power, Authority, and Mystery
• An Hour Before Daylight: Memories of a Rural Boyhood
• The Bean Trees
• Stranger at the Gate: to Be Gay and Christian in America
• Composing a Life: a Memoir
• Is There No Place on Earth for Me?
• The Stone Diaries
• Amazing Grace: the Lives of Children and the Conscience of a Nation
• Girl With a Pearl Earring
• Borrowed Finery: a Memoir
• Open Mind, Open Heart: the Contemplative Dimension of the Gospel
• Savage Inequalities: Children in America's Schools
• A Reckoning
• The Poisonwood Bible
• Running With Scissors: a Memoir
• The Perfection of the Morning: An Apprenticeship in Nature
• Landscapes of Wonder: Discovering Buddhist Dhamma in the World Around Us
• To See Differently: Personal Growth and Being of Service Through Attitudinal Healing
• The Courage to Be
• A Slender Thread : Rediscovering Hope at the Heart of Crisis
• The Sea, The Sea
• New Seeds of Contemplation 
• The Grace in Dying : How We Are Transformed Spiritually as We Die
• Tying Rocks to Clouds: Meetings and Conversations With Wise and Spiritual People
• Angle of Repose
• Oleander, Jacaranda: A Childhood Perceived
• The Magnificent Spinster
• A Beautiful Mind: The Life of Mathematical Genius and Nobel Laureate John Nash
• Molecules Of Emotion: The Science Behind Mind-Body Medicine
• Succulent Wild Woman: Dancing with Your Wonder-full Self
• Under a Wing : A Memoir
• Art Is a Way of Knowing: a Guide to Self-Knowledge and Spiritual Fulfillment Through Creativity
• Solitude: A Return to the Self
• Traveling Mercies : Some Thoughts on Faith
• The Healing Circle : Authors Writing of Recovery
• Gilead

She Said Hello

        She Said Hello

She said 'Hello, I’m digging

sand nests' and handed 

out shovels.

Seagulls lurked nearby

shouting manic laughter

keeping an eye open

for unattended food.

Farther along the beach,

six shrieking dervishes

flirt with the water’s edge.

And the kelp garlands

strewn across rocks

host a caucus of starlings.

-Kathryn Harper