Myth & The Modern Man*

FADE IN:

EXT. A UNIVERSITY LIBRARY -- DAY

The large CLOCK TOWER of the library commands the sky. Its antique stone face and iron hands stand firm at 8:15. Clouds rapidly roll in behind it and the sky darkens reflecting hues of the sunset on some far off horizon. The hands remain at 8:15.

EXT. A UNIVERSITY LAMP POST -- DUSK

The beginning of the Campus Square's sidewalk flows among large manicured trees and shrubbery.

The LAMP POSTS guarding the way begin to awaken.

The concrete path introduces the The Old Lab, then makes its way to The Science Hall then passes The Student's Center. Finally, it reaches the DOORS of the huge provincial Canton Library.

INT. FRONT STUDY OF THE LIBRARY -- DUSK

The FOOTSTEPS of DR. LIST, 65, a well regarded historian and philosopher, echo off the walls of the vast room as she enters. Her warm demeanor makes her popular among students as well as staff. It is no different now as she approaches MEG, 20, an attractive student in her class.

DR. LIST
Have you been waiting long?

MEG
(relieved to see her)
No. I just got here. It's quiet. Is it always this quiet?

DR. LIST
Yes, I'm afraid so. This wing has seen its grander days.

Dr. List takes in the vastness of the room.

DR. LIST
Come, it's too dark here. Let's sit in what sunlight's left.

Meg gathers up her things then follows Dr. List towards large arched windows hovering over worn leather and oak furniture. In this quaint area, the sunlight casts its rays into the shadows of the bookcases and falls to the floor allowing the dust that stirs to settle with it.

DR. LIST
Here should do, Meg.

Meg takes a seat on the nearest sofa and immediately opens her book. Dr. List studies the grid of light on the wooden floor. She admires it from various angles.

DR. LIST
It is beautiful. The pattern of light and dark. It looks as though it's been
painted on the floor.

She walks in front of it and her shadow breaks the pattern.

DR. LIST
But it is an illusion.

Meg is not concerned with the pattern.

MEG
It's no illusion that I'm flunking your class, Dr. List.

Dr. List steps back and the pattern is restored.

DR. LIST
In 32 years, I have yet to fail a student.

MEG
(not impressed)
Great, I'll be the first.

DR. LIST
(amused)
I did poorly in a class once?

She finds a chair near Meg and relaxes into it.

MEG
You?

DR. LIST
You could drop.

MEG
It's too late.

Dr. List sits up with her full attention on Meg.

DR. LIST
Why did you take my class? What interested you in "Myth and the Modern
Man?"

MEG
Really?

DR. LIST
(lightly)
Yes, your reality.

MEG
Ben took it and loved it.

DR. LIST
Ben?

MEG
My fiance.

Dr. List gets up and follows the light to a bookcase.

DR. LIST
Edenfield?

MEG
Yes.
(flashing the ring)
We just got engaged.
(She moves it into the light making it sparkle)
He surprised me. It was so romantic. I didn't expect it.

DR. LIST
I bet you were very surprised.

MEG
(Admiring the ring from various angles)
Oh yes, Dr. List, I keep replaying the moment over and over in my mind. It's
like life is just falling into place --

DR. LIST
Except for my class?

MEG
Yes.

DR. LIST
Ben was one of my favorite students. Is he practicing?

MEG
Yes. He loves it. He's at Clark, Davis and Fife. They are all very good
attorneys.

DR. LIST
He would have made a great historian. He did very well in this philosophy
class, too. If I remember correctly, he was quite taken with Hegel.

Meg stops in the center of the grid but continues to admire the ring.

MEG
(finding this humorous)
Hegel? He's doing so well I don't think he thinks of Hegel.

DR. LIST
Perhaps.
(beat)
And you?

Meg focuses her attention on Dr. List, confused.

DR. LIST
What do you think of Hegel?

Meg returns to the sofa and plops down on it.

MEG
I think I overslept that day.

DR. LIST
(laughing)
I think so, too.

Meg makes herself very comfortable.

MEG
Needless to say, I've been thick in planning.

DR. LIST
Next Spring?

MEG
Of course. After graduation, if I graduate.

DR. LIST
If?

MEG
Yours isn't the only class I'm failing. Dr. Malta is no help whatsoever! I met
with him earlier today and I might as well have been talking to the floor.

The GRID on the floor begins to disappear as the sky darkens.

DR. LIST (OS)
He won't help you?

MEG (OS)
I made a fool of myself begging. It was still no use. He's never liked me. I
didn't have a chance in that class.

Dr. List nods.

MEG
Now he thinks I belong in a looney ward or something.

DR. LIST
I see.

MEG
(hopeful)
But I knew you would understand.

DR. LIST
Please, hand me your book.

Meg does and Dr. List flips to the INDEX. She studies if for a moment.

DR. LIST
There is a book we should find.

Closing the book, she hands it back to Meg and motions her to follow.

MEG
(relieved)
I knew you would help me!

Meg gathers her things and hurries to catch up.

INT. ALCOVE -- SAME

Dr. List hits a light switches that exposes a narrow set of stairs. She climbs and Meg follows.

INT. WEST WING OF LIBRARY - SAME

Dust rises from books shoved and crowded into shelves as they move through the narrow isles. Dr. List intently searches the shelves as she goes.

DR. LIST
It's here somewhere.

MEG
I've never been up here.

DR. LIST
Really?
(pausing her search)
If you go farther down, there's the stairwell that leads up to the study in the
clock tower.

MEG
Seems like Ben mentioned that.

DR. LIST
It's a wonderful place to think.

Dr. List pulls out a book and examines it. Meg COUGHS at the dust but Dr. List doesn't notice. Dr. List puts the book back.

DR. LIST
I would bet he spent a great deal of time studying up there.

Dr. List continues to hunt through the books.

MEG
I don't know. He doesn't like heights --

Dr. List leans to one side attempting to read titles.

DR. LIST
(to herself)
Where is it?

Meg glances at the titles of the books and pulls one out then replaces it.

MEG
-- especially after what Sara Jennings did.

DR. LIST
Sara?

MEG
That girl that jumped. He knew her.

DR. LIST
How tragic.

MEG
He said she was always a little high strung. Different --

DR. LIST
(with pity)
Such an irrational thing. You know there was an...
(thrilled)
Ah, here we go!

Dr. List yanks a book from the shelf.

DR. LIST
An historical essay on his marriage to Marie von Tucher.

MEG
Who?

DR. LIST
Hegel.

MEG
And Marie. Right. A marriage of great minds no doubt.

DR. LIST
Actually,
(beat)
I do doubt that they were any kind of match. But he woo-ed her, from my
understanding. His only irrational act from what I can tell.

Dr. List moves through the narrow bookcases but glances through the book.

DR. LIST
Yes. Frankly, I can't understand it.

She stops at a wrought-iron winding stairwell leading upward. Meg catches up.

MEG
Dr. List, I can't flunk your class!

Dr. List ascends the steps.

DR. LIST
Don't panic. No one flunks my class. We need to think.

Meg follows her.

MEG
(innocently)
What about an incomplete?

DR. LIST
Never a good strategy, Meg. There are deadlines for reasons. Only a few
can handle crossing those lines. Most just hang themselves with it. You
need to finish what you start.

MEG
Life doesn't always let you, Dr. List. There are things that are out of our
control sometimes.

DR. LIST
(offended)
Yes, I know. I think your grade is one of them.

Dr. List hands Meg the book. Meg's not sure what to do with it. Dr. List steps down and descends the steps.

MEG
Where are you going?

DR. LIST
Meg, let's call it a night. We'll sleep on it and talk tomorrow.

Meg grabs her arm. Dr. List abruptly turns to her, startled.

MEG
Sleep? I can't sleep. Dr. List, you have to help me. What am I supposed to
do if you don't help me?

DR. LIST
(burdened)
Tell me, Meg, what did I do wrong?

Meg collects herself though not sure how to answer.

MEG
What do you mean?

Dr. List restrains her desperation.

DR. LIST
Why was I not able to teach you? What was it? Enlighten me?

Meg scans her mind for the right answers.

MEG
(helpless)
I can't! All I know is -- it feels like my whole life is riding on this grade. You
have to help me. If not for me, than Ben. He won't want me. He can't marry
a failure.

DR. LIST
(agreeing)
No one wants failure.

MEG
Then you understand?

DR. LIST
I do.

Meg pulls her back to the stairwell.

MEG
(begging)
Please, think. Please.

INT. THE WINDING STAIRWELL - SAME

They climb.

INT. TOWER - SAME

The stairwell opens into a small area with comfortable sofas and end tables that are arranged on both sides of a wooden door. Books lay stacked and open on one of the tables.

MEG
Is this the tower?

DR. LIST
Yes.

MEG
I imagined something different.

DR. LIST
How so?

MEG
I don't know.

Dr. List takes a seat next to the door.

DR. LIST
What do you know, Meg?

Meg perches on a chair next to her confused by the question.

MEG
Dr. List?

DR. LIST
(to herself)
It shouldn't be this hard.

MEG
I just didn't do the work.

DR. LIST
You didn't even try to do the work.

MEG
I guess --

DR. LIST
No guessing. It's not good enough.

MEG
(pouting)
It comes easy for you and Ben.

DR. LIST
That's an illusion. Do you think this is easy for me?

MEG
I'm just asking for help.

DR. LIST
You are asking me to validate your carelessness for my hard work, aren't
you?

Meg looks at her, speechless.

DR. LIST
Early in my career, I had students walk all over me not giving damn at all.

MEG
I didn't mean to --

Dr. List holds up her hand to shield herself from the apology.

DR. LIST
I entered as an up-and-coming young professor at a prestigious university.
But it was not real. I left a failure; a fool. It's easy to be the fool, isn't Meg?

Meg agrees.

DR. LIST
I was lucky to get this position with my reputation. I told myself it would be
different here. I would be different.

MEG
(impatient)
Look, Dr. List, tell me, please, what I can do? I never meant to make you
feel like --

DR. LIST
You can relax.

Dr. List breathes in to calm herself. She gathers her thoughts and suddenly becomes the personable professor the campus has come to love.

DR. LIST
(smiling)
Just be Nothing for a moment. You're not going to flunk.

MEG
I'm not?

DR. LIST
No. I won't let you. Just relax.

Meg melts into her chair.

MEG
Thank you. But how...

DR. LIST
Shhh...I'm thinking.

Meg quiets. She looks around and finally gets up and moves to the door. Meg opens the door without much effort and stands next to it. A soft breeze has made its way into the room rustling the pages of a book.

MEG
(whispering)
The balcony.

The thin balcony is only large enough for one person. It is encased by an old wrought iron fence that is
waist high.

EXT. TOWER'S BALCONY -- NIGHT

Darkness has gently fallen upon the CAMPUS.

DR. LIST (OS)
Who said, "In faith there is enough light for those who want to believe...

LAMP POSTS intermingle with TREES that dwarf them.

DR. LIST (OS)
...and enough shadows to blind those who don't?"

INT. TOWER -- SAME

Meg's curiosity moves her closer to the balcony.

MEG
(mesmerized by the view)
Janaro?

DR. LIST
(jovial dismay)
Oh, no, no, no, Meg. Pascal.

Meg moves closer. She hesitates.

MEG
(daring)
Ben would never step out there.

DR. LIST
Faith before fear. You must always have faith...

Meg braves the heights and steps onto the thin ledge.

DR. LIST
...until it no longer serves you.

MEG
I wonder if that's that what happened?

She turns to look at Dr. List.

MEG
The girl? Did she lose faith? Do you think that is why she jumped?

DR. LIST
Who? Sara?
(beat)
Or Ellen?

MEG
It happened before?

DR. LIST
Years ago.

Meg turns back to the landscape.

DR. LIST
History has a way of repeating itself, Meg.

MEG
Why do you think?

DR. LIST
Because we refuse to look closely at it. We don't seek out the patterns of
what is real; what is illusion.

MEG
There wasn't enough light for them to see a way out?

DR. LIST
Something like that.

Meg starts to step back into the study.

MEG
Honestly, it's just creepy to me.

Dr. List leans against the narrow doorway blocking it.

DR. LIST
I'll tell you something creepy.

Meg, startled, steps back out.

DR. LIST
I knew them both.

MEG
(cautiously)
From "Myth and the Modern Man?"

Dr. List nods then the words pour delicately out of her mouth.

DR. LIST
They weren't very good students either.

Meg's face surges with horrified understanding.

FADE TO BLACK

!!!HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Commentary: I have NO idea where this story came from. One day I sat down to write and 3 hours later it was written, rewritten and on its way to a contest.

I love old Alfred Hitchcock movies where most of the horror or suspense is imbued in the mind of the observer rather than visually and gratuitously stripped from the imagination.

It was fun to write though the 'womanist' in me struggled a little. I felt like I was writing of the paradox between two stereotypes. But I gave myself permission to just let what flowed to flow. And...

...that's all there is to know. Ha...

*© 2005 AndiWritesAgain

Fish Kiss

So this is what goes down when I'm not blogging! Ha...

I love Love.

Any way, shape or form that it appears in life, always fills me with an (maybe the supreme) emotion which has yet to be written, still locked in an uncreated word that I wish I could conjure towards a better explanation. The zeal comes from a moment in my life when I was told, You can't love everything. I tried to argue that I, in fact, could. Not having much self-love, I lost the argument. Oh, the irony! I questioned myself and in doing tried very hard to stop loving many things and to love only what was, from then on, judged lovable by an external force. That was not that person's fault. I chose to change thinking this was a part of creating happiness. But hording love diminishes it. Judging it, destroys it.

What a beautiful lesson to learn.

I am so thankful to that person and, in the very deepest part of me, I wish them a life full of love.

Downside's Up

"When I read a book on Einstein's physics of which I understood nothing, it doesn't matter," testified Pablo Picasso, "because it will make me understand something else." You might want to adopt that approach for your own use in the coming weeks, Virgo. It's almost irrelevant what subjects you study and investigate and rack your brains trying to understand; the exercise will help you stretch your ability to master ideas that have been beyond your reach -- and maybe even stimulate the eruption of insights that have been sealed away in your subconscious mind. Halloween costume suggestion: an eager student, a white-coated lab researcher, Curious George. ~ Boo

The Brightest Red Shoes Possible

A funny thing happened while riding in the limo...in my little rural Middle-of-NowHere.

Wait. Put it in reverse. Back up.

Okay, I get this call from my girlfriend. She's like: Hey, can you do a little modeling for me? I'm like: Sure. Loving her photography, I think it's a no brainer. Then I wonder what I should wear so I call her back inquiring and she says: Don't worry we have everything here for the fashion show just come down.

Fashion show? No! What?

Note: There are richly diverse Spanish speaking groups in my community. They all seem to enjoy flashy fashion. They open boutiques that thrive because they know the market. In fact, my place in space is a microcosm of the Melting Pot on all fronts but these groups have a monopoly on the store fronts.

I try never to judge what another chooses to wear but much of what is in the shops is not my style but I show up with an open heart. They hand me something satiny with ruffles and a very high and very red pair of heels. That's when I know my Mexican grandmother and my Venezuelan BFF, from beyond the grave, are jacking with me. I make up this whole thing about them laughing at me as I try to slip into the little black number. I don't even know how to put it on. While I struggle, I mutter a conversation under my breath directly to them. As I do, I hear the rapid fire of Spanish words between a couple of young girls outside the dressing room with interjections of laughter and it feels like home. Not that I've ever been able to speak Spanish but it was oh so common for me to get swept into the cadence while being clueless of it all. It's music to me. I love it. And I love this moment in the dressing room.

Anyway, the fashion show isn't exactly a fashion show. No. Turns out it is a fashion competition between boutiques in our little town. I'm like: How creative. Think boxing in stilettos. I'm Oscar de la Hoya with a bit of Oscar de la Renta flair. Suddenly, I'm good with satin. Who thinks to come up with this stuff?

Back up even more...but not quite back to the limo.

Pre-show equals massive photography. Both from the novice & the professionals in town. Luckily, it's a good hair day. I'm with a group of about 15 young ladies all of whom are 20-Something and below. Another and I mark higher in the age ranks. I'll not attempt to guess how old she is though older than I am. While the chicks hunt and peck at their hair and make up, us old hens are just praying we don't slip out of our shoes while we walk. We pray hard because the shoes seem to have a mind of their own.

After the photo ops there is about a 30 minute window before !!~SHOWTIME~!! Wanting to keep everything classy, the shop owner has us pile into a massive limousine. We are going to cruise Nowhere.

Hit the breaks:

Anyone following any of the writings prior to this one understands how deeply I embrace and am attempting daily to refine the idea that You Create Your Reality. Also, upon reading, you know that I've mentioned what my little village lacks in beauty is made up for by those that live here. Today = case in point. To me, a hilarious case in point. I'm delighting in the ridiculous. How did I create this? I'm always looking for meaning in each moment. So, as I sit outside the shop waiting for our jot about town to begin, I notice the red neon light in the window. It flashes each letter of O. P. E. N. then flutters OPEN, OPEN twice before flashing the letters of O.P.E.N again. As I am hypnotized by it, I hear Stay Open.

I was writing a script that I kept telling myself I needed to have more experience to write. It's about fashion. I've been stuck. I actually moved on to a different script that I am in the rewrites of. I am enjoying it but I can't help but think the Universe is telling me I have enough in me to write the other...that the essence alone can get me through. Life is about living your passion. Something I'm good at helping others do but lack in myself. I was witnessing a lesson in not waiting or questioning just doing. That was being driven home to me...literally.

As I sat looking out the windows of this monstrous vehicle while it traveled through our forsaken countryside, a funny thing happened. I felt somewhere else. Somewhere far from forsaken. It was nothing short of wonderful and I know that without being right here, right now, I would never have opened a path to know that Someday Somewhere that was so very present in the moment.

Correct Me If I'm Wrong...

"The autocorrect feature sometimes distorts the text messages people send on their smart phones. It tries to fix supposedly misspelled words that aren't really misspelled, thereby creating awkward variations that can cause a ruckus when they're received, like changing "I don't want to leave" to "I don't want to live." Damn You, Autocorrect! is a book documenting some of the most outrageous examples, many NSFW. Be vigilant for metaphorical versions of this wayward autocorrect phenomenon, Virgo. Be sure that in your efforts to make things better, you don't render them worse or weird*. Consider the possibility that stuff is fine just the way it is." ~ Oh, Yo Virgo
...but does this guy know me or what???

*Avoiding weird. That's gonna be hard. :)

Sometimes, as heroic as it is, I forget that I lived through the experience of bringing five children into the world. Three naturally. One with a hit of Demerol. Another with a full blown epidural. The latter two were not for me because in the mix of numbing to literally annihilating the pain, I could not synchronize with the signals my body would have otherwise offered me. Without the contrast of the pain mixed with those glorious moments of relief, I felt lost. The natural births flowed. One moment I'm cradling them deep within me and the next I am cradling them in my arms. With the first, I didn't know. By the last, I was seasoned. Those births took longer. I felt detached. Of course, I adore them nonetheless. I had contemplated this pain late last night. I couldn't sleep having lived a painful day which I now see was a necessary way to perceive it. I guess I'm a slow learner but it is a lesson for me in understanding how important it is to embrace pain and master it as you move through the expansion of giving your gifts to the world.

I know it shouldn't matter but I hope someday to be forgiven for wanting more of me to manifest. It's painful not to expand. I know I've caused pain in following my heart. "They" always say, Follow Your Heart but translated that often means as long as it doesn't injure mine. I know I can't always be the 'nice' guy. I know I'm a recovering People-Pleaser and no one that you've been pleasing enjoys your new found sense of Self. Particularly, if you are enjoying your new found sense of Self. I know others see through the lens of their created perceptions. Of which, I have little control except to remove my eyes from their creation of me.

While in bed thinking, it comes to me that maybe I've been giving birth to myself with a little too much painkiller. Maybe I've not been appreciating the contrast of pain in quite the way I've need to. Not as a means of struggle or bondage but as a wave of intense knowing that contracts around me pressing out the best in me. I haven't been trusting myself or my talents. I know the generous nature of abundance and the Universe's not only willingness but its delight in providing that I am taking a calm, deep breath and giving birth to true freedom. And I will absolutely enjoy the labor.

*Note: Part of this blog has been edited because a friend (who loves me very much) thinks I should have taken care of myself and my property rather than letting things just BE As-They-Were on all subjects this day. BUT, I think there is perfection in imperfection (both in myself and now in my things). This is my learning process. Yet, I've edited with freewill. I want to avoid dark thoughts as much as possible. So, I freed them to flee. :) It feels good. That's enough for me.

In Power

she was not seeking power
she was looking only to love all things ceaselessly
~ unconditionally ~
and in that search, Power joined her

I Will Not Rhyme

Like
numbers
chanted
by
children
beginning
with
one
moving
to
two
then
three

words
line
up
each
with
a
corresponding
sound
that
drowns
wait...
struggles
for
a
place
to
land
and
thus
falls
onto
my
hand
hmm...
fingers
each
tip
holding
a
letter
that
is
hammered
into
the
poor
long
suffering
keyboard
(poor/board...I'm good there, I think)
only
to
retreat
by
the
swift
stroke
of
the
delete
ahhhh...
erase
key
(the/key? @#$%)
button.

Nevermind.

Dear Freakin' Headache

Sitting behind
Both my eyes
You're in the driver's seat

Maneuvering like
a drunk that's high
I can barely move my feet.

Tried to nap
wrote a rap
But alas there's no distraction.

The more I moan
The more you've grown
@#%& Law of Attraction!*

*Just kidding...kinda :)

I forgot...

...the how of so many wonderful things about her.

How grandma loved to dance.
How beautifully soft her skin was.
How perfect fingernails.
How perfect her smile.

How brave she was.
How scared.
How quiet she could be.
How thoughtfilled.

How funny.
How short she was.
How she loved McDonald's coffee.
How she loved God.

How she could read me.
How she would make me feel like her only grandchild.
How she did that with all the grandchildren.
How she sang while she cooked.

How she loved soft bananas.
How delicious her banana bread was.
How she charmed squirrels.
How she grew perfect squash.

How perfectly round her tortillas were.
How delicious her tortillas were.
How she only bought pints of milk.
How she loved living alone.

Full of life and love is
how I will remember her.
How, even now,
I am in awe of her.

Music Grandma Used to Play

I had forgotten how much I loved this song.

Jesus NEVER Freaked Out*

“Life is simple. Everything happens for you, not to you. Everything happens at exactly the right moment, neither too soon nor too late. You don't have to like it... it's just easier if you do.” ~ Bryon Katie

Stirring stagnate energy,
she awakens the serpent's biting sting.

Thoughtlessly, she manifests a situation,
giving darkness power in her creation.

It's tail bent painfully towards revenge,
believing there it all begins and ends.

Her Soul is summoned to contemplate,
how exactly to re-create
a structure built on conditioned fear
knowing well the answer's near.

The bravest path is just to Flow,
allowing her focus to follow her joy.

Others may question her
though she knows well
what she's traveled...

...but Now, it's with a keener knowing
she sees exactly where her Life is flowing.

"The path is made clear. The road is safe. It may not always be sweet but it is safe. Stay focused and all is well in your world." ~ Ships of Song
*He & I gots this.

Who's There?

At daybreak,
Love comes to visit.

Soothing sunbeams on glass.

Pulling back the shade,
tossing up the window,
my breath deeply motions
It in.

Deliciously warm,
It accepts my invitation.

First, by graciously filling my thoughts
then quickly flooding my body
while flowing from me into the room
now completely filled with Its presence.

"Good Morning." Loves says to me.

"Good Morning." I say.

"You should sleep more."

"I know." I say snuggling with delight in a nearby chair.

"They write a great deal about Me."

"So I've read." I say tapping a stack of books.

"They even classify Me."

I nod relaxing into the warmth of with each word.

"Agape, philia, storge...that's all Me."

I chuckle.
Love is teasing me.
So, I wait for the punchline.

"Oh, yes, eros! Had to get you here somehow. No?"
I laugh a yes and Love slips in closer.

""They" are wonderful nonetheless.
They're just trying to understand Me."

"I know." I say as Love embraces me into All-That-It-Is.
"Can you tell Me what you feel right now?"
I search my thoughts, my heart and the whole of the room
to describe the power of the moment. I seek to offer some
tangible phrase explaining the awareness of faith and hope in me
as Me and me as the whole of the space I'm dwelling as far as I am
able to comprehend. It is taking time. As always, Love is patient.
And in Its kindness, waits and waits. Finally, I offer nothing.
"I know no words." I whisper.
Love smiles.
And it is then, I understand Who I Am.

Dish'claimer

"These are poems. This blog is conducting a test of the Can She Pull Off Writing Poetry With Minimal Editing While Being Mildly Satisfied. Repeat: These are only poems." ~ My Brain
*Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep* <--- Insert favorite profanity here.
I love what Julia Cameron says about perfectionism:
Perfectionism is not a quest for the best. It is a pursuit of the worst in ourselves, the part that tells us that nothing we do will ever be good enough - that we should try again.
I love having my hands in warm sudsy water particularly if there is a little chill in the air. I will put on music or watch a staple in my video library ~ one I know well so that as I clean I am without the distraction of 'What just happened?' ~ and enjoy myself. Last night was no exception except the 'enjoy' part. I was heavily distracted to near obsession. I kept feeling myself being heavily drawn back into these poems to rewrite them. All of them. Remove them. Make them better. Throw them out. Start over. But I'll reserve none of those rights save a tweak here or there. I'm starting to get the whole "less and less" is "more and more"...with me being less wrapped in all of the mind games perfectionism can play and just be more willing to let this part of me Be.
The creative process is a process of surrender, not control. ~ Julia Cameron
*Beep* <--- Last one. Promise.

P'ohmmm

stillness

the silent mind

no movement
of thought
or vision

an unencumbered
peaceful meditation

"Arrrrrrrrrg"

that is not
the request

I desire a word
to flutter in

long for a picture

any structure to
evoke a beginning

any sound
resonating
towards ending

I don't care

But is that peace?

I do care

deeply

then a thought:

Love
is always present
even in silence
and always in stillness
so I will let It write

happily surrendering
my own
thoughtless
frailties

Just So U Know...

Now I'll Let It Go

Dream of Consciousness

With ease,

we sit beneath the night.

You draw circles in the sky.

Set into orbit a lofty plan

as I draw time-lines in the sand.

You cast them into the atmosphere

creating rings around your spheres.

Set into motion an incantation

...an unconditional hymn...

to which I awaken.

Writing A Wrong

The irony
will never
be lost
on me:

You're not
a writer,he would say,
but you can do
this
and
this
for me.
Yet,
the very this
she could not do
was the this
that set her free.

What Is A Poem?

no word, nor rhyme
nor meter hold

the bellowing depths
called forth from soul

interpretation
mere human folly

as spirit yearns
to express wholly

so then
within
this sacred
experience

the flesh
at best
must embrace
the trance

become open, gaping
to the hollow wound

expanding, birthing
from the omnipotent womb

and cradle with faith
a word, a rhyme
measuring humanness
against the Divine