Gratitude Sunday: Spring Into Poetry

Gratitude * Sunday
Sunday’s heartfelt tradition.
A time to slow down, to reflect, to be grateful.
A list of gratitudes, our gratefulness feeds one another.
Quoted from Taryn Wilson
Joining the Gratitude Sunday Tradition at Wooly Moss Roots.

Sunday Haiku
Pink! Yellow! Purple!
Spring screams its name in living
color, right out loud.

Sunday Musings
April is National Poetry Month. I love poetry in almost all forms. In a few words a feeling of beauty or love or sorrow or amazement or sublimity can be conveyed. In a larger amount of words whole worlds can be achieved. Through words!

What is poetry? A hard question for sure. Poetry is not just rhyme, though rhyming is fun. Poetry can cover any topic and create many moods including humor. Poetry is personal; what pleases me may or may not please you. Poetry is universal; no matter the language the words still reach us.

Why should we care about poetry? Because we need beauty in our lives. Because life is too weird without art and beauty. Poetry and all the arts are the real reason we live. Art gives us the ability to tolerate the mundane, the deadly boring process of making a living just to live modestly in society, to get from one minute of the day to the next because we are able to put two beautiful words together to make a picture, or to make pictures in your chosen medium that inspire two beautiful words.

Art, for some of us, is the one thing, the only thing, we have control of. You can’t control other people, how they think or how they behave. You can’t control how systems work without generations of rethinking and working toward a change. You can’t control the weather. You can’t control consequences (because: other people). You can’t control your body.

You can take care of things, like your body, and your belongings and property, but age and decay will occur regardless. You can work hard, but no guarantees there; your body may fail or you may be terminated from your job in a unwarranted way when you least want it or when you are least able to gain new employment. You can be enterprising, become an entrepreneur with your own business, but you will still work with other people, whom of course we can’t (and don’t want to) control, and any time other people are involved there is the element of surprise.

But art. Art you can control. You create the world. You create the story. You wash the background with color. You populate your art with characters you can control. Here’s where the mysteries happen. Anybody who writes will tell they have had the experience of the characters telling the writer how to write them. Writers who are in the flow, in the full zen of the word, sometimes find their characters come to them (the writer), and write themselves. This is a powerful experience. If a writer is using their imagination where does the character or story come from?

Let’s pause there to think about that. Who is controlling whom? Is the writer in control? Is the writer’s imagination in control? Does the character come from some kind of “beyond”, needing to have a venue for its words?

Then there’s the writer-reader phenomena. What I write and what you understand when you read my writing may be two different things. So who is in control? Me as the writer, or you as the reader? What if I’m telling what I think is a funny story and you are terrified by those same words and your other pal thinks the story is just stupid? Who is in control, the writer or the reader? When I explain to you what I think is funny and you explain to me what scared you and your pal explains what’s stupid, will the understanding of the story be the same? Does it matter?

Words matter. Sharing art is hard. You try to control your story to say what you want with your words. When you release it for others to enjoy, readers take what they will from your words. And you have to let them. You can’t beat readers over the head with your words. Hwell, maybe some writers can. I prefer writers who lead me to discovery of new worlds and new ways, of seeing through another’s eyes without me necessarily being in control. As a reader, I’m all up for the “take me along for the ride” approach.

I read a wide variety of fiction and non-fiction. As a writer I don’t know how to gauge the diversity in my work other than letting other people read my work. I just spew out whatever comes to my wild imagination and then work the words from there. My readers are treated to my crazy imagination and bits and pieces of my limited education or what I still remember of it.

It’s good to have control of one thing in your life, one little thing, or one big thing. It’s good to go with the flow of that control. It’s good to create in whatever form that takes for you. It’s good to read, even if you don’t write.

Your challenge for April, should you choose to accept it, is to read one poem a day. Re-read poems you love, read poets you’ve never heard of, read poems you don’t like, you know they won’t bite. Read poems of babies and for little old ladies, read poems about strife, read poems for your life. But read poems, and enjoy the rooms you find in your mind.

Color Watch – colorful attractions in my neighborhoods this week – A purple azalea that lives up the street. Close up: bright pink cherry blossom branch. Mounds of blue periwinkle with shiny green leaves. Fat cluster of pink cherry blossoms.

Current View – {These are only my opinions about movies and books, but don’t let me stop you from trying these reviewed items yourself; your opinion may differ.} Star Trek: Beyond (2016, rated PG-13) another typical futuristic story about people working together to defeat the enemy, who truly are enemies. And the fun of imaginative characters and weapons and transportation and technology and place settings. Basic Star Trek fun. * A few more episodes of Schitt$ Creek (2015, rated), offbeat humor in a 25 minute fix. Can squeeze an episode in between anything. * Loving (2016, rated PG-13) the Academy Award nominee about the case of Loving vs Virginia in the 1960s and overcoming miscegenation laws. Subtly done without too much movie violence. Sadly reality contained much more violence, I suspect.

Currently ReadingPachinko (2017, fiction) by Min Jin Lee. Just started this story set in Korea and Japan, plot so far includes a teenager who becomes pregnant and the tubercular [Korean] Christian minister who offers to marry her to save her reputation. The hubster brought home our pachinko game about 30 years ago; it’s one of the 1970s mechanical models. We’ve had many years of fun with it having only to replace the battery if we want the thrill of the lights. I am wondering if this novel will be about the game or if it will be a metaphor. Time will tell. * Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places (2016, sociology/haunted places) by Colin Dickey. Through the ghost-busters chapter and on to insane asylums. It’s been a fun ride so far.

This week I have been grateful for:

  • The family of squirrels in the oak tree outside the windows of my aquatic center, who entertain me with their acrobatics while I exercise.
  • The heavy scent of the blooming plum, loaded with blossoms this year, on warmer days. Aaah.
  • The patches of white wood violets that grow under one of my trees the hubster can’t mow under and thus kill. The patches get larger every year if left alone.
  • Warmer days and turning off the heater. I love turning off the heater.
  • The mild last days of March, the lambikins of days, the sweet fresh fragrance of the oncoming spring.
  • The pale pink snow from the plum tree and the languid meandering drift of the petals from tree to earth.
  • The first cut grass of the season; I love the fragrance and I’m so grateful to suffer limited allergies.
  • The son kindly suffering through my same tired old April Fool’s joke. Again.
  • Computers, word processors, and electricity. Some progress is good.
  • Art. Artists.
  • Literature. And stories. Writers.
  • Movies. Film makers.
  • Live theater. Actors are artists too. Performance art.
  • Succumbing to my strawberry craving and buying California strawberries, the sweet-tart version of Oregon strawberries.
  • Water.

Hoping you have a lovely week.

Namaste. Peace. Blessings.

Floral ribbon border by Laurel Burch

This entry was posted in abundance, Aging, Art, Careers, GRATITUDE, Grief, Health, History, Photography, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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