Reverbing on Julie Unplugged

Beloved friends -

If you clicked through here via Reverb, my posts are all happening on my JulieUnplugged Blog. I sincerely hope you will check them out there!

I have neglected this blog, which I created almost solely because it makes it easier to comment on blogger and blogspot when you HAVE a blogger or blogspot blog. So now I have several, because... that is the Julie-esque thing to do.

But the most common places to find me - and my Reverberations... is Julie Unplugged. :-)

Busy in the Middle of Art Every Day Month, Etc...

Wow. This has been a nearly insane November. Complete, unadulterated insanity ~ and naturally I am loving it.

I have been busy, busy, busy with Art Everyday Month. My posts for that annual event may be found on my Julie Unplugged blog.

My poetry continues to be my life blood. In fact, I have two performances this month. So exciting! To read my poetry, visit my Poetry Blog.

And finally  - I am going to link to a performance of a poem/anthem I wrote called "This November." I hope you enjoy it!

In this moment I hear ohmmmm....

I was surprised to find myself writing along with the group during the freewriting time during "And Now You Write." This isn't my usual - normally as facilitator I just hold the space...but the power of the collaboration moved my pencil. I could not stop these words from being born if I tried!

So, that being said, here is what I heard and wrote today during the And Now You Write session:

I vote for the oh, the pitter patter of gloating jokes leave foam at the open mouth of the ugliest gnome. A sassy pants drone, he is. My heart's metronome calls, instead, for ohm. It invokes my soul home, and the round mouth bicycle tire spokes of bristle cone seeds taking root in my spoken truth woven in ohm.

In this moment, I hear ohm. Ohm. Ohm....

If you would like to experience the creative writing community of "And Now You Write" please join us for this, and other, writing prompts.

New Blessings I See: Free Writing From "And Now You Write"

Today's focus: gratitude gratitude gratitude. I write on my porch and see so many blessings, but in the "I see many" it is a pureed soup, so instead, I will scoop blessings out, one by one, and revel in their specificities.

I see Samuel, my blessing, who is humming an unrecognizeable tune and I daren't ask him what it is. His thoughts make him smile which make me smile. Constance the Cat, my blessing, sits cuddled next to him. Constance is a cast off cat we have adopted and she and her rogue husband, Bob, reign over our yard, King and Queen. Samuel says, "Hi, Bob!" The scarred black tom cat is getting less and less frightened of us. This makes me smile. It is like blessing perfume, perfect in this morning.

I see a pumpkin, my blessing, the first of the season, sitting on the corner of my desk atop a Thomas Merton book, Echoing Silence. The pumpkin was named John by Emma, Samuel and me. Ostensibly he is named after Henry David Thoreau's brother John, fellow teacher and pencil-maker, but I know the truth. :-) I've started a play for Project Love about heaven and my brother John. This paragraph is like a trifecta or hat trick of blessings.

I see my weathered porch desk - another blessing - which needs replacement. By winter, three months from now, I should replace it. It has served me well. Many words have been written here. It has repaid its $10 ticket price many times over.

Samuel exclaims, "It's that same jeep again!" I look up, "Really?" He notices everything (another blessing) "What?" he says to Constance-the-Cat. "You want me to comfort you?" He reaches down, to cuddle with her.

I cry just a little. (A blessing). He has come so far. (a blessing!)

I take a sip of my coffee. A blessing that appears regularly on my gratitude lists. My morning compadre, simple pleasure, eye opener, subject of many love poems.

I see the blessing of my notes for today's And Now You Write. I read the words, "Writing is effortless when we are alive to the world." When we are alive to the world. I am blessed by words, my own and others, of notes and affirmations and blog posts and new voices. Returning voices. Multigenerations. A primary component of creativity camp is being manifested right here.

The chimes ring from inside. Hank (a blessing) must have sidled past them too closely. Samuel goes to his waiting spot after the "imposter bus" drives by. He cranes his neck and says, "I see my bus."

He's gone from cranky to contend in our first hour of the day together. I wave to his friends (blessing!) as the bus pulls away.

Morning by morning new mercies I see...

I fill the paper with the breathings of my heart....

I fill the paper with the breathings of my heart and my intellect interferes, muttering about "What's the purpose?" and the I-twin scoffs, "Can you make money from putting the breathings of your heart on paper?"

My heart gives a not so gentle nudge and I feel "let's prove it" build, rumbling volcano pre-eruption like under my breath. The pulse, the movement of blood and life force is in teh PROVE it. The ROVE whats true the ignite the fire metaphor stew with seasonings from the heart. Whispers of "look up" so I do. Women in blue uniforms connected by formica, disconnected by cell phones.

The "look up" also ignites the honking of yesterday's geese from outside my window. I listen and wonder of the connection between these words I added to my notebook while out and about and this moment, here now. A pregnant woman in a pink shirt waddle-walks by. "Hold your moments close!" I want to shout. My heart does it silently yet vividly for me. My heart warms up, grateful for the acknowledgment.

A woman comes to me after she notices, hand raised to knock. She leaves her rapping-on-the-door to open me to more light, even though I don't think I need it, I gratefully receive her outpouring of service.

She had been on her way to clean the men's restrooms. Before her knuckles rapped, she diverted her attention to my writing heart. I am sure that is what called her. Her footsteps matched my heart beat. "More light" she said, then created it. SHe put the shades into their upright and locked positions with my heart-words, ready for lilft off.

My left hand completely relaxes, remembering heart-opening yoga, last night.

I hear a blue shirted woman say, "Vamos a ver" and I nod, "Let's go"...

We mirror love, what we love when we write, when we speak, when we pray when we paint when we listen and feel...

When we reach our hand up to knock and recognize love, we may leave the rapping knuckles and write what compels before moving back into the "supposed to do's" and settle into the simplest heart service of raising a blind, wiping a nose, making a phone call, writing a poem, a sentence, listening to a goose's honks and smiling.

I fill the paper with the breathings of my heart. And next up in my day is filling the painting paper with the breathings of my heart... I'll post here, too.

(I am grateful that even as I facilitate, I know I am as much of participant as everyone else.)

For those of you who don't know about And Now You Write, consider this your invitation to join us right now - you are here at the perfect time...

More of the Writing Adventure at Hart Park: Sometimes an Ugly Duck stays an Ugly Duck

In today's session of And Now You Write I shared of my moments at Hart Park, a regional park not far from my home. I took myself there because although I attempted to write at home, I realized sometimes the best thing to do is switch up what we are doing and begin to write from someplace new.

I was lead to go to Hart Park, so I did.

I shared some of the story at the And Now You Write blog, but here is the missing excerpt from my sketch pad. I found it a lot of fun and thought I would offer it up to you, here.

I heard a duck sounding like a children's toy.


Not a quack, but something else. And then a gutteral grgrgrgrgrpip

The wood ducks noticed and came along, hautily, and swam in the way of these other, visiting country ducks and sang out the very quintessential duck "Quack quack quack quack!" The mallard joined in, pontificating "Quack quack QUACK!" which I think means something like "I am top duck, go make your grgrgrgrgrgrpip on some other pond."

The winter visiting country ducks pitch raises when they skitter-fly across the water, like Xena's shout changes when she gets excited and mobile.

I look at my attempt to draw the country-visitor-duck and I think Emily Dickinson would be so annoyed by me, so disappointed in my result.

The ugly ducks sound like a nerd choir, or a second, third or fourth string choir. The wood-duck-in-charge hates this and bellows at the country duck, "Shut up your choir, Jethro!"

Unlike the ugly duckling who grows into being a beautiful swan, these Jethro ducks are simply Jethro ducks. They are what they are, there is no changing the facts. I have seen them come to this pond and live here each fall and winter, year in and year out.

There will be no story of transformation from ugly Jethro to beautiful swan.

These ducks have been ugly Jethro and they will continue to be ugly Jethro.

Poor ugly Jethro ducks. As the saying goes, sometimes an ugly duck is just an ugly duck.

Join the Writing Community of "And Now You Write"

 

Sometimes lightning strikes sideways

If I were open to lightning striking my writing... I get this image of me sitting at a picnic table at Songdog. Light was brand new them, just having cracked open along the line of the horizon. I wrote into that cracking of light.

I look at the previous pages. My hand wrote, rook notes, almost immediately post lightning strike yesterday when I got my idea for a script for Project: Love. If lightning strikes were measured on a richter scale like earthquakes, it would have been somewhere between 8.0 and 8.5. My writing is slightly sloppy, I notice. Still tingling then, still wobbly.

Keeping the lightning stike alive: this is a slightly different matter.

Notes alongside, remembering, poking the space of the strike. When I wrote my initial tears from the lightning were gone.

When I allow lightning to strike my writing I am open to emotion. I allow emotion to have the freedom to roam in my creativity. No cages on my emotion. If my creativity was an animal, well - for me it would be a menagerie - it would be a gazelle, an eagle, a domestic short hair cat like Constance and Bob. There would be a whittler: an old man sans teeth, whittling. His wife, Ida, plays the fiddle.

She is the creative whiz. He is the metronome. She is the one who does the jig. He is the one who walks in the pre-dawn. Their love shared is a given.

When I allow lightning to strike my writing, it doesn't bother me to hear Samuel's voice breaking through my words. "Mommy! Mommy!" he calls. I respond, knowing the page will be there waiting when I return.

Later, I took myself on an artist's date (a la Julia Cameron) because I was floundering and frustrated at home. The surefire cure for floundering and frustration is to change what you are doing rather than wallow in the mire.

I decided to get myself a drink along the way and just like that a poem and a sketch was born.




Sometimes lightning
strikes sideways
while doodling in
my drawing pad
behind a rogue carpet
installer, I copy the
rolled up carpets onto
my paper in swirled
flames of gratitude
I write that
1Bx6170
his license plate
I see
1 box 6
times removed
she drives her
SUV west on
I-70
I lamented the
writing didn't won't
can't seem to strike

And I picked up my
pencil
and the lightning
came, surprising me
by striking sideways

:-)

Life and the Writing life, is grand....

Be a part of our writing community at And Now You Write.
We meet daily via a telephone bridge line and/or via recorded teleconference so you may write alongside us and with us any time of day or night.

Check it out here.

So much love to each and all reading this -

Julie

What do I hold in my hand?

I post this free flow writing, raw, unedited - to illustrate how far off course I go with my free writing and HOW RIGHT IT IS to do exactly that - I even noticed when I started to type this all for you that I wrote "write" instead of "right" at one point. And it is the perfect, just right, make me giggle writing "mistake". Please don't hesitate to share your writing. It is like sharing at a slumber party with our masks all over our faces, dry and crackling. Sometimes these make the best memories and the best, longest lasting connections.

When I witness my hands I see...

What do I hold in my hand?

Splatter words, on the page. My write hand holds my pencil. I feel the tension of this pencil holding all the way up my arm. I never noticed that before, the tension tumbles and skitters and scrapes the veins as it works my way up my right side. It is not the most comfortable tension, I notice.

Samuel and I wait for the bus, I write that - so my hand "holds" that, too. Samuel notices a dog bone in our garden, left abandoned deserted hidden? by one of the strange looking hounds that has been carousing about the neighborhood lately.

Yes, I went from writing about my hand and muscle tension to dog bones and my son.

Free writing isn't always tidy.. .and I love some of the word combinations I came up with because I followed the flow of the pencil into those images.

(Note I never tell myself I messed up by going off course. Neither do you! Please don't hesitate to share your writing!)


Big hugs,

Julie

Announcing Mission/Complete - Finally Finish that Writing Project!

What is the number one challenge of people, like you, who are creatively inspired or
have a story to tell?

What plagues writers more than writing block or lack of ideas or not having
the time to write?

The biggest problem is Completion: birthing the book, launching the blog or filling it with content consistently.
 
Mission/Complete is a 12 Week program from Writing Camp with Julie Jordan Scott that will walk you step-by-step through completing your
big writing project: be it a book, a blog, an ecourse, screen play
or any other "word product".


We will meet weekly via teleconference (or if the timing isn't convenient
for you, you may "meet" via the session recordings) to walk, step-by-step
and build, brick-by-brick as you write, revise and complete that book you
have wanted to write forever but somehow never got to it.
We provide the context, the inspiration and the support so you will write
not on your own, but in community with other writers who are also completing
their own projects.
Why am I creating and facilitating this program? Because while I have a
solid track record of bringing informational products, teleclasses, workshops
and plays into the marketplace, I have had a challenge with taking my voluminous
files for books and turning them into completed works. Yes, I do have two
books under my belt but it has been a long while between projects and I
know myself well.
I do better - much better - when I have a group to whom I am accountable
AND filled with people who are walking alongside me, creating separately
yet creating together.
Here is what we will be covering, week-to-week, during our sessions:
Before Session One:
Registration open through September 19 thought space is limited:
We may need to close registration if it fills too quickly. It would be wise to register now to avoid being left out of this  session.
Individualized Roadmap to Completion - Before we begin our meetings, we
will hold several group coaching sessions on Wednesday, September15 as well as audios to help you create your individualized roadmap to completion.
This is not a cookie cutter program so you will not have a cookie cutter
Roadmap. No generic applications here since we all have different projects
with different needs. This isn't a one size fits all approach, this is a
personalized approach created especially for you.
September 20: Week One: Passion Fuel for Your Project - 
Mission/Completion: Cross the Finish Line with Purpose
September 27: Week Two: Build Your Framework -
Beyond the Outlines and Table of Contents + Managing Your Writing Time
October 4: Week Three: Nuts and Bolts of Completing Your Work
What "Hardware" is necessary to bring your product to market?
Who is your best audience and what does that mean as you bring
your book into completion?
October 11: Week Four: Lighting (and Keeping) the
Writing Fire Burning Bright + Gathering resources
and bridging the gaps in your writing.
October 18: Week Five: Beginning Your Marketing Plan
as You Complete Your Book + The Joy of Juggling
without crashing into overwhelm
October 25: Week Six: Staying the Course: When the
Going Gets Tough (or dull, or uninspired, or seems
too steep) the writers get tougher.
November 1: Week Seven: Revision, Redefinition,
Really Quality Material and not falling off
at the Idea Junkie Rest Stop
November 8: Week Eight: Staying Present when the
GPS system gives you the wrong driving instructions
To market, to market, to market with passion
November 15: Week Nine: The Value of Networking
and Inspired Focus Group Participation.
November 22: Week Ten: Confidence, Charisma and
Creating Content in these "last ten pounds" or
"last ten pages"... Be the Little Writer That
Could (and then some!)
November 29: Week Eleven: The art of Polishing
with Passion and Panache.
December 6: Week Twelve: Celebrate!! Bring your
finished product to our closing celebration and
dive headlong into joyful, passionate marketing.
Share successes, wins, lessons learned and know
the world is a better place because you completed
your work!

Meeting times:

3:30 to 4:30 PM Pacific time on Monday Nights

Final note before you register or shrug and say,

"Next time" - if you have the desire to be a part

of this unique group of forward thinking writers,

I want you to join us. It is as pure and simple

as that. Please strongly consider registering as

soon as you can simply because I need to end

registration before the group gets too large

or unmaneagable.

If you have any questions or concerns, please

call me at 661.444.2735 or send me a

note: juliejordanscott at gmail.com

Begin: September 20 and end: December 6

Please check out the "And Now You Write" program: a community of writers, collaborating to create word fire and flow worldwide.

I wrote in a Conservation Habitat on Sunday...

I started writing today at a little bit after 7 AM. I was in the Dana Point habitat conservation area and will write, now, directly from my notebook so I am not sure if it is in first person or what person.

There is a slate grey wall of fog and tumbleweeds like I remember from 1977 when we first moved here. I hear a fog horn. I see a buoy and boats. It is chillier here than my dress looks. We don't match. I don't care.

A train whistle sounds as two women (more appropriately dressed than me) amble up and peer into the windows at the interpretive center. They are runners. One of them sounds British. Carol Carter floats into my mind. "We'll figure it out" says an American voice. I wonder what is to figure. I scope out WritingCamp locations. That is what I am to figure. Anything else sort of drops away.

They built a spot here for sitting which I use to sit and write. It is perfect for that love writing amist the shrubs and bunnies and birds. They are restoring the habitat which, for today, is still grey and not quite awakened. I scan for spots to sit and write and perhaps get a photo of myself sitting and writing. As so often happens, I wish I had a remote control so I could get comfortable and then set the timer. (Some day.) There amidst the black eyed susans I attempt to take a photo but only my knees are victorious.

I hear a bird or a rodent, very staccato rat a tat tat and a sea lion calls. People talk along the path. A sole runner moves. A man tells the trail story to three friends who listen, attentively. They discuss knee surgery. Perhaps two generations, both women with sensible ponytails refusing to give their different shades of brown over to grey. The elder man continues to offer head land narrative.

A muscular woman in pink tank top puffs and pants as she jogs uphill, her devotion to running apparent by the triangular patch of sweat on the small of her backl. I want to move forward but find I enjoy it too much when people fall out of my direct line of view and I have the momentary delusion that it is only I, the fog horn, and the sea lion enjoying this sanctuary this early on this final Sunday morning in July.

Still more voices come and then don't. I hear car doors open, and close. I wish the staccato rodent voice would speak again and only another runner's feet respond but her, I find myself admiring. Silver toned long hair, pulled back, burnished skin. Quite lovely. Maybe a year from now I will be brave enough to look like that.

Writing Camp: Summer 2010 Session....8:30 Campfire Writing....

When I open my eyes to writing camp, I see pine. I see height and weight and brown and green. I see these trees which long for my touch as much as I long for their shade in the Bakersfield heat. I feel the smile on my face stretch.

I see light, dappled and holy not unlike the light in a cathedral. These pines are my stained glass, tiffany inspired windows. 

I come to writing camp today to discover what is next for me. The more I mention camp and just flow with it, the more it grows. This last writing camp with Kat in the home feels freeing and sad, holy and frustrating. I long to walk alongside people on hikes, exploring rocks and nooks and crannies of the wilderness of camp and the wilderness of their souls. I want more of this….

Movement....

Wow. I have missed being here, hanging out almost exclusively on my typepad blogs or else on what I call "My Dailies" - the place where I share my daily practices, verbatim - unedited, raw "here it is" the unshowered, unkempt take me for what I am me....

It is also a blogger blog... if you are interested in ramblings and poetry and sentence journals and photography... and whatever other daily goals I may set up
from time-to-time, look here. 


I have continued to write poetry almost daily as well - today I wrote a couple haiku... and I realized how long it has been since I had written any haiku! So odd!


Here is a link to today's haiku duet on my typepad poetry page.

I am grateful you are here, reading.

Mottled Purple Bottle

I have been working my way through NaPoWriMo, using my poetry blog almost exclusively. 

The last two poems have been pretty respectable. I would love if you would take a moment to visit by clicking here.

I have also been busily at work with The Artistic Mother's Group, which I document on Julie Unplugged.

I hope to see you around....

Buckets of love.....

Wish? Yes, WISH!

and please read my Wishcasting Blossoming wish on my Julie Unplugged Blog today, beloved Wish casters....

Creating, Loving, Creating, Loving, Repeat

It has been a phenomenal time with last week's trip to New England to visit Smith College, where Katherine will be attending in the Fall. Today is the final day of Spring Break here, I think traditionally a travel day or "Easter Monday."

I have been posting up a storm on Julie Unplugged today and yesterday, so friends from The Artistic Mother group, please visit over there....

Or poetry lovers, see what I have been working on through NaPoWriMo.... today I am working on a prompt from ReadWritePoem, personifying my poetry. I am naming her "Chiara"....

THANK YOU, as always, for reading!

My Creative Hop Scotch This Week

Let's see - I created this blog primarily as a stand-in when the Typepad blog poofs itself up AND for when my Blogspot and Blogger friends, for whatever reason, have an issue with me making comments. This year is about, among other things, commenting for connection so therefore a Blogspot blog became necessary.

That said, oftentimes people may land here and wonder where is the words which match the comment theme?

So - some of my tip toes on typepad this week include:

My Wishcasting Wednesday Post

My Creative Every Day Post

My Wordless Wednesday Post

Lots of breakthroughs are happening here... which is exciting. I have had more time off from rehearsals so I have been chasing sunsets and singing karaoke and fixing three hot meals a day for my kids. I am feeling rather June Cleaver-ish, so if I break out pearls and heels simultaneously, someone stop me!

Next week I will find myself in Massachusetts... which makes me very excited.

So much love to YOU!

Julie

My CED2010 Weekly Update Post

Read My Film Making Story...

Warning....

Brave leaps ahead...

Writing My Way to Completion

The highlight of this past week was a trip to Tucson, ostensibly to see Katherine sing in the Western Regional Honor Choir with her buddies from East Bakersfield High School Chamber Singers, but beyond that - I went... again, supposedly, to regroup and regenerate after the closing of First Kisses.

As is so often the case, I hit the ground running and had a-ha after a-ha, soulful moment after soulful moment and not that much time just refreshing myself except sometimes, for me, that hub bub of activity IS regenerative.

I am back at my desk now and writing like crazy -

My Wordful Wednesday entry is to be found here....

My Three Word Wedneday entry may be found here....

And my Wordless Wednesday, again - homage to Tucson, may be found here....

Life continues to move forward with a rock-n-roll pace. Before I know it, I will be in Massachusetts with Katherine for Spring break and then it will be graduation and then it will be the East Coast again and then?

Katherine will be at Smith, I will be left with two children at home for the first time in... well, since Emma was born when it was just Bianca and Katherine.

I am writing, and oh, I am loving writing. And my Writing Camp is going exceptionally well. So well, I am going to offer another soon.

Life is wondrous.

Read Write Poem PLUS Wednesday's Offerings

Dear Readers,

I have been writing to prompts for a while, but lately I am upping the ante in hopes of increasing my effectiveness with words.

Once can never practice writing too much....

Here is a link to this week's ReadWritePoem Prompt.. I call it

IT IS

My offering from 3 Word Wednesday:

AMAZE

and then there was Carry On, Tuesday - perhaps my strongest writing in a while:

Needs a new title

ENJOY!

and thank you for reading.

It us Thursday which means... Read Write Poem

though I loved Katherine's response when I told her Thursday is poem writing day.....

"But you write poetry every day, Mom."

She has a point there....

Here is the poem for ReadWritePoem:

With Universal Tags

Creating/Creating/Creating

Wow. I have been up to a LOT of creating, though not much posting on this particular blog.

Just wanted to update you so you may find out and tap into what I have been up to lately.

Today, alone:

Wordless Wednesday - my first "Photo and minimal words" posting ever. This is a popular weekly event.. .I found more than 200 blogs listed in the Mr. Linky widget and had a comment almost immediately.

Three Word Wednesday: I didn't write a poem today, I wrote a Rilke-inspired question....

I have been publishing Daily Passion Activator daily for the past... oh, is it seven weekdays? Something crazy and lovely. You really ought to subscribe if you aren't yet. Here is a link to yesterday's article.

I even posted about Home in Creative Every Day. I have more to write and post, sometimes my time runs out at the end of the day and I can't possibly post more of my stuff, but here is what I had!

And I am, naturally - deep in the "First Kisses" run at the Empty Space. This weekend is our final weekend, which makes me incredibly sad. It has been a marvelous time. I hate to see it end, though rehearsals for VDay are also a blast...

So there is the briefest of check ins with as much possible here as well. :-)

Julie publishes her ezine, the Daily Passion Activator, which includes an Essay and a Poem every week day - inspiration delivered directly into your email box. Why not Subscribe today? It's free.

Subscribe to DailyPassionActivator

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Last Week's Therapeutic Writing Spa

I wrote a poem for the ReadWritePoem prompt.

Felt like it took forever to get off the ground... which it did!

Check it out at my Poetry Blog.

Read Write Poem Mini-Challenge links

I have been working on (well, it is hardly working) on falling in love with Denise Levertov through writing Cento - patchwork poems - featuring her work as prompted by my friends at ReadWritePoem.Org. The first in the series is in this blog, the others are on my typepad poetry blog.

Here are the links - Cento #2 - Conversations.

Cento #3 - The Amaryllis

My Poem in Homage to My Love: February 7, 2010 - Tech Week Begins

rooted: cryptic messages

beautiful. Makes me pause and wonder how many cryptic messages I take at face value. simply because I don't like to play "the cryptic message game"

I wrote a long blabbering Sunday Scribble. (Never done this before.)

Now I want to write a poem.

Poetry Mini Challenge, Poem #1

I posted this on my type-pad blog but the font kept coming out funky, so I am attempting it here to see if it is more visually appealing.

I am falling in deep love with Denise Levertov, chosen for more reasons than I can count. This first patch work was almost too easy.

She is that good, it all works. It all works.

The first collection of hers I bought was her last collection, a compilation of poems found neatly typed and compiled in a binder. I loved that I can see her last poem.

My fervent wish is when I die, some one is delighted to see, to experience, to know my last poem, too.

This poem is a patchwork of the following poems:

Looking, Walking, Being
From the Roof
On a Theme by Thomas Merton
Talking to Grief


Looking's a way of being: one becomes.
You long for your real place to be readied
palpate darkness, the void
hidden river, who can say which it is we see, we see

This wild night, gathering the washing as if it were flowers
Fragmented Adam stares.
sometimes, a pair of eyes walking
walking in the dark and the wind over broken earth


You think I don't know you've been living -
You are not present to yourself. God
I should trust you.
My arms full of playful rebellious linen, a freighter

Breathing to sustain
I recall out of my joy a night of misery
And language? Rhythms
suffers the void that is his absence

Read Write Poem - Get Your Poem On #112

My weekly poem for ReadWritePoem has been birthed.

There is a lot more juice from this week's prompt, perhaps from any other I have shared in the past.

Enjoy!

(Photo credit - John Lee - the spot is "The Glen" in Glen Ridge, a favored haven in the town I grew up and is one of the featured spaces in "Before me")

Monday, February 1 - And I am Busy, Creatively

I posted an entry at Julie Unplugged about my Writing - Anchor Art which was written toward the Creative Every Day theme of HOME. Check it out by clicking here.

My first attempt at writing an American Sandwich poem reads like this...

And let's not forget my first ride on the Poetry Train!

And yes, my 365 photos continue. It has been a wild and wonderful ride so far.

Unseen

These visual prompts from ReadWritePoem continually work me. I don't know how each one is just the right balm for me... usually they look like just the right torture, actually - but when I meet the prompt and allow it to make its presence known... I tend to be grateful for what appears.

This poem was like stitching a quilt together. I gathered memories and words from the past... sought out a poem I wrote when this incident happened - one too painful to remember... and found some journaling from a month or so ago and brewed the pieces together and here you have it.
(Visual Prompt Image from Sepultre
at Flickr)


A Crooked "Handle-with-care"
Sign - Hand painted in
purple, girly-lettering
Hangs across her throat

Unseen


much like the invisible
to some fourth leg of
her chair: if he
had only reached with his
heart laced fingers
instead of the intellect
of a shattered other
He would have felt it

Unseen

There, right there
In the space between
his quoted "bullshit"
declaration and her
imploding eyebrows
and belly, he would have
felt that leg, piercing
through her core and

Unseen

He would have known that
in one single moment the
breath left their love
behind in its scent, not
its form: The Coyote smelled it,
the howl crying it into
the darkness

Unseen

Shadows, alone in mere traces of
shale-shell-locks-of-her-
hair-sewn-into-rosemary-
laced-gift-envelopes
for the now absent fourth
leg of their connection

There was nothing left
to teeter upon

Unseen

Vision Board - Collage, Art, Writing all Whipped Up

I am working on Day 4 of 21 in The Whole Self's Creative Divine created by my friend, Nicola Warwick.

I am taking many more than 21 days! Oh, well. The 21 days started the day Mercury Retrograde ended and I am still shaking it off, apparently.

Today our task was to create a vision board.

How I am working this 21 Day Project is to read the prompt and let it ruminate for a bit before plunging into the task which accompanies each day.

Today, it is very image rich with fewer words, although there are plentiful a-ha's brewing... from the poetry I am blossoming to my theme and intention for the year - Tangible Soul - to my family and my business... this vision board is rocking me.

Here is some of the process for you to see, visually.

The process begins with cutting and for me, writing, collecting, and listening to the intuitive call to choose, to cut, to place and glue. I almost always start with writing. Not a surprise, I am thinking...






The left hand side of the journal - vision board. Can you see some famous faces, sans hair, bodies, etc?

They inspire me - and are reminding me of utilizing my senses to bring tangible soul to... tangibility. I also had an a-ha which I will relate to the music in this collage and the photo of Charles Bukowski (do you see him?)

Music is an intangible, when experienced... primarily.

And it creates an intangible which often brings things tangible. People create to music, people relate to music, people are inspired and motivated by music... yet it floats through the ethers.

It is the physical human making an intangible and then remixing or recirculating with the tangible. Still need to journal more on that - this is a PROCESS post after all.

This is the right hand side of the collage.

What strikes you about it?



I also gleaned from some of my folders and drawers of unused stuff which included some photos of me and my children. The childhood Julie with the dirty knees is a photo I especially love.

Tangible Soul.

Love that, love what this Vision Board is bringing out so far.

How Three Simple Words Impact, Inspire and Ignite

Three word Wednesday: beacon, grieve, kindred.

These three words made me angry.

It felt like the 3WW had been poking around in my carefully guarded lingerie drawer, digging for fertile secrets amidst the not-well-worn silky blacks and lacy pinks.

How long ago was it I sat in a support group for parents who had lost babies and I found the women who were still grieving many years later pitiful, as a group. "I won't be like that" I sneered on the inside while my face wore a compassionate sorrowful mask.

I have become one of them and today, with this prompt, it pisses me off.

So I wrote a haiku.

Her words, a beacon

"You don't have to grieve alone"

Kindred, at long last....

Remind Me Why I Set Certain Goals, Please?

"Write in recollection and amazement for yourself."

Jack Kerouac

Four years ago I would have thought I had fallen into a huge vat of self-indulgence-syrup if you had told me I would be beginning not my first, not my second but my third year of taking daily self portraits. I can hear my self-righteous indignation, "Come on, look at yourself, you are nothing special... you keep getting older, you never lose that weight you think about losing - why on Earth would you choose you to be a subject of anything looking remotely artistic?"

I don't even like looking at photos of myself. Looking at images of me staring back makes me nervous. I don't like doing it.

I can hear you now, muttering, "That makes no sense." A caveat in response to you - I never claim to make sense, by the way.

I knew when I started down this self-portrait road that devotion to my image would somehow help me grow. It has.

When I look at my first attempts at Flickr, I see one person.

When I look at my second, half-hearted and incomplete attempts, I see another person.

And in this third set, which I call "365X3" I see the me I am now: the me I am most comfortable with and whom I think is by far the most multi-faceted and interesting.

Then I think about my upcoming theater project. What was I thinking, exactly? I could not have possibly come up with something more different than "First Kisses", the show I am directing right now which opens in February.

Then I remember, "Oh, yes. Stretch as an artist. Don't be limited by societal standards."

And then there was that pesky, Goal Number 101 for 2010. Here's what I wrote:

101. Stretch cultural view of beauty in older and/or “imperfect” women… taking Dove’s campaign to the grassroots.

I prepared for read through and was nervous beyond words, nervous. Those pesky rambling words were at it again: "Who did I think I was, Colette?"

I knew what the script contained. Besides stretching creatively, I was going to experience several of my friends in different ways.

I should be at least somewhat used to this.

After all, I am known for being comfortable with who I am, in all stages and places and showing up... as a playful and "hippie-ish" person.



But when I show up as a hippie-ish person at the hot springs or with a photographer in Echo Park, I am creating solely for me.





I am not thinking "What will people think? Will this be horrid for my collaborators? Will they want to run, screaming, pushing me off the cliff labeled " this project?"

I need to return to my poetry. Curvy Truth, for example, which I wrote in response to these photos and others, taken shortly before a beloved friend's birthday. I had them taken by a complete stranger who was willing to create "ethereal, gritty" photos with me.

I never considered myself the least bit modelesque, but this was my body and I was creating this, for me. So that I could write, primarily.

The poem This is My Body, performed this Summer at Fishlips in the event Two Hours Inside was very well received and could only have been written after all this exploration I have done.

I just didn't ever realize an opportunity like this would come up.

Reminds me of what happens when goal-setting meets divinity - situations that seem completely remote wait, restlessly, for you to step into them, and when you do, everyone is rewarded in ways that reach beyond what you might know when you start.



I think I will hold onto that thought, and remember this moment perched on a rock at Remington.

Lessons from the Porch Desk: The Power Cords Teach Us

Before today, when I looked in my photo frame and saw them taking up space in what I was attempting to photograph, I grimaced. "They are ruining my shot!" I lamented. "Why are they still there? New neighborhoods don't have power lines running through their skies, cluttering up the view"....

This morning, something shifted as I stepped through the door at sunrise to take my daily photo.



The power lines were still there, hovering in the horizon of the shot I used to think I wanted. Today, I saw the power lines as perfect. Instead of wishing them away, I focused upon them. I saw their beauty, their symmetry. I saw how they sliced through the sky, separating colors as if they were put in exaclty that spot divinely, like the towering linden tree or the low-to-the ground dandelions.

I sat at my porch desk and wrote along the blue lines in my notebook:



"What power do those lines carry on their metal corded backs?

"Is it the zap of electricity bringing light to Robert's calculus problem or Sally's aquarium as she looks in shocked disbelief that her favorite fish, Nemo, needs to be buried. Or, do those cords carry the voices of Uncle Barry pontificating or Katie hearing the bad news about Tim?

"Don't voices leap from tower to tower, instead?

"They don't need power lines anymore, I don't think, just like I don't need to have the strength to dangle upside down, hanging from my bent knees on the metal cord of the Carteret Park jungle gym, my ponytails grazing the sandy playground floor."

I looked up, wondering what notivated the Carteret Park, hanging-from-knees image, wondered why it popped up.

"When did these things change?"

I know I turned away at some point, stopped noticing the sunrise, stopped noticing the inexplicably poignant blue of the sky before many have seen it yet, so fresh and optimistic, my breath slows and my eye lids hold the tears which arise without warning. I turned again to see new beginnings and realized in that moment, the poignant blue sky matched the poignant blue in my eyes and my perspective.

I looked up and smiled into the ever-changing morning sky, grateful I took the time to watch it. Grateful I sat in the audience of the power lines, of memory, of the sunrise - an everyday miracle.

And Now You: Be open to everyday miracles today, waiting for your attention, your awareness, your gentle awakening.

What do you see out your window?



Give it the space to astonish you.

One Word - January 25, 2009 - YOGA

My one minute timed writing today went like this:

WORD OF TODAY: YOGA

I wish I spent more time learning yoga. doing yoga. practicing yoga. Allowing myself to stretch and move, gracefully, moving in and out and around rather than sitting here, typing into the keyboard I should be sitting serenely, a single sunflower by my side, gazing and feeling my muscles, lengthier, surrendering.

Poetic Meanderings

I have been haphazardly and somewhat half-assedly responding to poetry prompts this week.

I have surged past cranky and may soon land in the sea of diabolical.

My poem for "Three Word Wednesday"

My excuse for a poem in Get Your Poem On #110, ReadWritePoem.Org

Weekly Check in with Creative Every Day

It has been an odd week but yesterday alone packed in enough creativity to stir my soul several times over.

I wrote a synopsis on Julie Unplugged.

Please check it out here

Duh Duh Duh Duh

My contribution to this week's GET
YOUR POEM ON at READWRITEPOEM
may be found on my main poetry page:

Poetry from Julie Jordan Scott.

Thank you for reading!

So Much Creativity - Oh, for more focused time!

My inspiration has been drawn from many sources lately - my Project365 (I am doing three of them!), Three Word Wednesdays, Creative Every Day, ReadWritePoem, and my brand new friends from One Word.

While I love it, I also am aware of my time limitations given the book projects and creative endeavors I am seeking to complete.

My challenge now? Completion while weaving in these creative bursts as well.

Please read some of the posts at JulieUnplugged to see what I mean.

Get Your Poem On #108

Thursday has become, for me, "Get Your Poem On" day...

Which was, in fact, the genesis of this blog.

Here is the link to today's poem:

"Note to Soul"

Apparently I am meant to write poetry today

I went to bed last night with three poems battling it out in my head.

I don't mind, most of the time, though this morning when a third word warrior (what is the female version of warrior, is there one?) appeared, I almost scoffed...

Until I wrote.

You may read my First Ever Three Word Wednesday Poem on my Poetry from Julie Jordan Scott blog.... by clicking here.

I have been a busy little creative bee

And most of my creative play can be found on my Julie Unplugged Blog, which is housed here - at typepad.

I created this blog for content and even more for connection.

I value connecting with you... so I hope you will wander over to typepad and/or subscribe to my ezine or follow me on twitter. So many ways to stay connected... and my wish for 2010 is to be connected with more like-souled people...

2010 has been phenomenal so far. The well mannered me says "Don't brag about your Best Supporting Actress Award and the party and the trip to San Francisco and all those comments on your poems. Cut that out..." but I trust you have shown up here because you want to be inspired and know I am just an EverydayJulie like you are an EveryDayYou.

So glad you found me and are reading.