Archive for the Writing Category

Yup, it’s been a long time since the last post.  Life has given me one of those moments where, having acknowledged it, all other bets are either off or up for renegotiating.

The first part of the process was realizing how close I am to retirement age and then how little I have to retire with.  OK, I never saw myself as a “retiree”, so not having anything saved up for the future isn’t a surprise.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have any other plan either.  My friend, Gretchen, helped me out by smacking me (figuratively) upside the head until I got Me in focus.  Funny to find out that role playing games (RPGs) is what matters to me the most.

Seriously.  Hey, stop laughing.  I mean it.

It started when I realized that the world I had begun building for my own characters could be used to learn real life things.  That was confirmed when, after I told a friend and her daughter my idea, they both said “Charter School!”  I still don’t know what a “charter school” is, but their enthusiasm was encouraging.

I’m not the first person to think that an RPG is a good way to bring subjects to life, of course.  So, I’m not in a hurry to work up that idea.  I need to build the world of the story first, and I’m doing that through my NaNoWriMo novels.  The last one of the quintet gets made this year.  Then I will focus on the editing part of the process.

And there you have it. Me and RPGs.  Only that’s not where it ended.

When Gretchen got me focused on seeing how important the concept was to me, other things started to fall into place under that banner.  We can see how writing does.  Writing stories based on the world is a way for me to not only build it but demonstrate how it’s principles work.  Heck, just writing challenges me to integrate ideas by putting them into a “what if” context and that leads to better learning.

Something else came out of the RPG idea though. The world is based on fiber arts.  Think the Silk Road and all the activities surrounding the silk trade.  Seeing that the RPG itself was the guiding light, I realized how important fabric is to me and decided to do something about it.  So, with the introduction of Spoonflower, I gathered up some old interests and started building a business idea.  If that’s not using the RPG in real life, I don’t know what is.

Wait!  There’s another element to this bit.

The retirement plan isn’t the fabric design on its own.  Another element showed up.  Psychology.  I decided to get an advanced degree in psychology.  Answering “Why?”, would take a short book.  Let’s just say it’s another of those things that seems to have been waiting for a bunch of other stuff to get lined up.  That’s how it seems to have happened, this decision.  One minute I was following a Twitter link and the next I was declaring my intention to get my PhD in psychology.  Me, with no formal history in it at all. Formal is the key word, by the way.  I realized that I had a lot of informal experience and that I was only planning to get better at it.

And, no, I haven’t forgotten the RPG thing.

I wrote one day on Twitter that I was living an RPG life.  And that started me thinking about why the RPG concept–concept and not the details of any one system or game–appealed to me so much.  It’s an effective box to put things into.  Thinking of myself as a character that I’ve created is amazingly empowering.  I’m sure there are lots of other ways of saying the same thing and lots of people have made lots of money doing it.  But are they fun?  That’s the difference I feel between “The Secret” say, and the RPG.  Another difference? I don’t have to feel responsible for all the events of the game!  That’s the DM/GMs (Dungeon or Game Master) headache! I know that the choices I make, given what is handed to me, may or may not work in my favor, but that’s the way things are.  And since my experience tells me that my DM is amenable to my ideas, I do have some say in how the game is laid out for me.  Challenging, but along the lines of say, haveing to make new career plans based on not having a traditional retirement plan.  Make sense?

The cool thing for me? All the stuff I’ve done before now is still in play.  I just need to put it into categories that make sense in my version of the game.  And of course, Gretchen, you were right!  That day spent virtually head banging is still the best advice I’ve had.

So, the pens and needles are still with me in the Garden.  I now get to build the Garden so that it is a proper respite from all my adventures, and a place to let you all know what I’ve been up to!

Happy Trails!

So writing poems is not the same as posting poems.  I ‘ve got the whole month done.

They are in my journal.

OH.  And I was wrong about American Sentences being 27 syllables. They are 17, just like Haiku.  I’ve had the priviledge of trying to explain the concept to a couple of people lately.  Need to brush up on what I know for sure and what I think I know.  Having certainty in both would be helpful and build confidence.

Meanwhile, I’m back on Second Life on Saturdays leading the Global Healing Circle. That means creating more Heart Meditations.  I am thinking of publishing them in one form or another.  I like the sound of my own voice (in a non-ego kinda way) and doing a set of recordings might be nice.

Writing down my ideas for a set of stories about shamanic kids.  Thought of the idea a long time ago when I was reading more about Navajo and Hopi legends.  It was meeting Kahu and Brun in Second Life and Kuel on Huna Trainer that inspired me to finally put the idea into words.  I could see them in their adult struggles to be like children still.  Struggles with the shamanic things, anyway.  I’m having fun thinking of how to bring the world to life.  I don’t think of them as children’s stories, by the way.  Just stories about children.  I’m looking forward to seeing how they all come out.  I did a recording of the draft of the first one and like what I’ve heard.  Too much information in it, though.

I’m taking an online writing course–Holly Lisle’s “How to Think Sideways” and the lessons I’ve got through so far are really cool!  I like how she thinks and what she’s focusing on.  Since I am coaching a couple of other people in their writing endeavors, it’s nice to have someone coaching me.

Well, this is family weekend and it’s time to pay attention and visit!

Stripes of rain

make empty

streets cozy;

drench trees so

they bow and

tickle snails;

make puddles

and me a

rain dancer.

When I was writing on Huna Trainer regularly, a few of us started writing three-word comments.  It was so much fun that I decided (as a good logarrheatician would) that the three words could be cubed into three lines of three words each.  Well, today I thought I was doing the original “cubes” but realized I was focused on syllables instead.  And then I realized that three sets of nine syllables made an American Sentence.  So, you can read it either way:  As three cubes or as one American Sentence.

Breathing in

breathing out…

the top of my head expands under

the hedge of my hair

the soles of my feet tingle.

Breathing in

breathing out…

chest expands

thoughts contract

into breathing alone.

Breathing in

breathing out…

looming clouds enter

leaves dripping rain move through

wet streets emerge.

Breathing in

breathing out….

stars on one horizon

stars on the other horizon

bones in between.

Breathing in

breathing out…

stars inhaled into bones

bone songs vibrate being

stars exhaled into bones.

Breathing in

breathing out…

stars inhaled into bones

bone songs vibrate being

stars exhaled into bones.

Breathing in

breathing out….

stars inhaled

bones vibrate

stars exhaled.

Breathing in

breathing out….

being vibrates

bones sing

being vibrates.

Breathing in

breathing out…

the wave expands

the bones sing

the wave vibrates.

Breathing in

breathing out…

the wave

the bones

the song.

Breathing in

breathing out…

the song

the wave

the song.

Breathing in

breathing out…

the wave.

Breathing in

breathing out…

being.

Breathing in

breathing out…

the song.

Breathing

in

breathing

out…

Breathing…

I wrote this after a Huna Healing class in Second Life.  Lots of breathing, of course, and also a huge insight.  It’s the Wave again.  It was the Wave in Aikido that brought me first to take classes in electronics.  I didn’t quite understand what the point was.  As it turned out, I got to finish some things I didn’t believe I could even start: my FCC Radiotelephone License and my Amateur Radio License to be specific.  Childhood dreams I didn’t think even belonged to me.

So now that I have them, what next?  That was my question till now.  More wave stuff evidently.  Yes, I used my understanding of communication electronics to build an analogy for interpersonal communication effects, but that seemed really obvious. I was talking to fellow travellers on the Huna Training podcasts, and we mostly knew all that from Serge King’s Urban Shaman.

It was the idea of the breath activating the Wave that was new today.  And from that point, the universe of my novels took a whole and enormous step deeper.  I was so focused on justifying the effects in the world through physics that I didn’t see the truth of things:  It’s the Wave.  Listening to Martha Beck helped me put the few things together.  Again, a confluence of Huna (as shamanism) and Aikido and the Wave of the Dreaming.  That’s all I can say for now since I still haven’t got it all put together myself yet.  Maybe by this year’s NaNoWriMo, it will make sense to me.

Green rain drips

from branches

from rooflines

from grey skies

into sun-warmed streets I’m not walking on.

Tonight there is a news story about the finding of a small girl who has been missing for a while.  When I heard the news story earlier today, I knew that the suitcase found contained the body of the girl.  It is not a good feeling to have this image in my heart.  I do not know how to process this event into a reality that requires the pursuit of happiness as a measure of the quality of ones life.  How is her full life the pursuit of her own happiness?  Who is happy now?  She was eight years old.

I don’t often allow my heart to be swept away by the emotions of outside events.   This intent to write poetry, to allow my feelings to drive the quality of my life, to determine what my attention is focused on, has created a difficult dilemma.  Do I commit to the feeling?  Or do I succumb to the media and the community?  These are concepts that I do not usuially consider when I write, when I focus on a topic.  What happens now?

It is dark here

A body found

A small girl trapped in a suitcase.

What travelling has she

agreed to?

adventured to?

It is not for me to give her life a story.

When we hear the story

of happiness and judge

that we are not choosing this path

what other choices do we have?

The villian chooses control.

The hero chooses fearlessness.

What does a child choose?

(For Roachie - Mae V. Cowdery)

A brown aesthete writhes under the glareof historical texts.

No Poe.  No Keats.  No Cullen or du Bois.

Only soaring into paths not travelled across galaxies

Light years to go before sleep

What did it matter that Death kept its eyes on my skin

its hands on my heart.

You had gone first.

I was an unknown shadow on your horizon.

Only now do our separate events approach each other.

Startled by a comma,

a sudden intake of breath

becomes a public endeavor

to explain the presence

of god in the voice.

It’s ridiculous to think

that writing is hard work.

After all, there is nothing

one can do but put down

neural nets and

chemical pulses across

gaps of memory.

Nothing to it.

Cutting through the strings

hearts untwine.

Alone, we are not ourselves anymore.

Wrapping up the book

pages unfurl.

Bound, our stories tell themselves.