Quotes

Jan 112011
 

~ For every dark night, there’s a brighter day ~

I know in my soul

That the morning dawns better

For dark night and sorrow

Shall come to end

I know that the demons

Who taunt me to tremor

In bright light

Will torture rescind

I know that my psyche

Contorts in the darkness

As facts and my feelings

Are tied into knots

I know that at daybreak

I’ll yield to awareness

As hope, love and joy

Dash nocturnal onslaughts

I know

 

Inspired by the Tupac Shakur quote, “For every dark night there’s a brighter day,” as prompted by Carry On Tuesday

Dec 112010
 

“You do not need to leave your room.

Remain sitting at your table and listen.

Do not even listen, simply wait. Do not even wait, be quiet, still and solitary.

The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.”

~Franz Kafka

Is this true?

If I stay inside my room

Will all the answers rush right in

To make it clear

Why I am here with you, but not really?

~

Will silent table-sitting

Enable me to see

The good, the bad, innocuous,

And resist the temptation to label them as such,

So that I continue to stay here with you?

~

If I simply wait,

Will the universe of reasons

Crystallize, so clear?

Will I know the role I’ve played in this scene,

And in those behind and fore from here?

~

If quiet, still and solitary

Will I understand?

Will you?

Is stillness what’s required

To be unmasked, we two?

~

Will inactivity

Truly be

The portal through which answers

Come to me

For all the nagging questions that I have?

~

Is this, indeed, the route to ecstasy… or is being solitary the key?

Dec 092010
 

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”

-Sylvia Plath

Oh Sylvia, I adore you!  And I thank you. Here’s why:

I recently received the wonderful news that 25 of my poems were selected by Finishing Line Press  to be published in chapbook form. Exciting stuff, to say the least. As required of most authors, I was asked to solicit blurbs and endorsements from others in the poetry, publishing or southwest writers’ communities. Several colleagues generously read the work and offered comments which FLP will use in marketing the book. 

During the process of gathering comments, I encountered a critic. A well-known writer, whose work I’ve followed since first publication, wordsmithed his way into telling me my poetry was no good.  It hurt. Despite the fact that he praised my writing’s honesty and intensity, (couldn’t that phrase alone have been a blurb? I mean really?), he apologized that he could not allow his name to be connected with the project.

I understood.

I questioned his generosity of spirit, but I understood.

Although I walk through the world somewhat like Pollyanna, my work can be dark, stark. I know this. I write it for goodness sake. I am not blind to the content. And this disparity between the real me and the work I produce caused lots of evaluation. The inner critic barreled in.  

I questioned my abilities. I became incredibly critical. Self -doubt reigned. And I didn’t write another line. For nearly a month. I let another’s opinion (who knows how formed) shut me down.

YIKES! What the hell was I thinking?

So today, when I looked back at my drafts and quotes for inspiration, Sylvia spoke to me; and I realized that this was the very moment, in the very hour, on the very day that I was meant to read the lines I’d saved back in July. Generosity of spirit was right here when I needed it. I should never question its existence.

Dec 072010
 
KLN, 11-2010

“Writing is thinking. To write well is to think clearly. That’s why it’s so hard.”  ~ David McCullough

I’ve pondered this David McCullough quote for months. Literally. I’ve read it, mulled it over, thought and written about it. I’ve deleted the writings, written some more, and considered the idea more thoroughly. And now I’m ready to confess and profess. I’m a little bit cocky about my ability to think. Some might call me an intellectual conceit.

From earliest memory I’ve considered myself a thinker. My intellect has been my pride and my strength, most acutely during times when my looks, circumstances or experiences were lacking. I am a smart girl grown into a wise woman. Mind you, I don’t claim complete and utter wisdom on every topic known to man, but I’m confident in my ability to learn easily, understand without judgment, assess character accurately, express myself with clarity and precision, and love easily, freely and completely. I enjoy all of this because I’ve been blessed with a brain that works very well, and I’ve always worked hard to capitalize on it.

My best tool, the method by which I’ve developed my mind, my thoughts and opinions is, and always has been, the writing process. For me, writing is the ultimate route to understanding myself, my thoughts and feelings, and the people in the world around me. Like David McCullough, I think more clearly because I write more precisely. And this can be hard. Over the years I learned that, when speaking, I sometimes lack the precision I summon in writing, although this is less troublesome as I get older. Perhaps all the years of writing have created an inner proofreader/editor who kicks into autopilot when necessary.  Is this an unsung benefit of aging?  I think yes.

Another benefit of aging… nearly everything intellectual or emotional gets easier. All the practice does make perfect. Despite challenges caused by diminished eyesight and arthritic joints, I feel more alive, more relevant, and more right than ever before in my life. Hard work and persistence deliver just rewards. The thinking, the learning, understanding and assessing, the expressing, the writing, the processing and practicing, living, loving and accepting… they all pay off. Big Time.

Here’s to the years!