I pray & I hope to
bridge this paradox,
the one who taught me to write,
is one who waits,
for my written word
A LOVE-LETTER TO GRAM PEN I MUST.
she can’t leave minus
my tender scripted touch…
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Live a Little
Live a little – breathe,
oh the privilege,
of being alive,
staying alive,
so dance and push
boundaries that hem in.
Unlocking the Plot (AWC Writing Retreat)
The unshared was as much a part of what was shared. We all read between the lines. To declutter and express clearer was an immediate preoccupation.
The perception of the individual inevitably came through in their pieces, springing one surprise after another.
Around the table: each one resonated in a rich timbre, all her own. We listened, we imbibed, and we were entranced.
Coming Home – Living the Thai Life
I lose myself in the physical being of the new city- permit it to wrap and embrace me via its meandering alleyways. This lends me time to find myself again, in a more familiar posture. I watch people- as I watch my step.
A Name Like Penny Lane
Do all names feel the same? Absolutely not. When we read a name on a piece of paper, we are already imagining a person, building a character around it, and judging the man or woman before we set eyes on them, are we not? I know I inevitably do it, and am constantly surprised at how accurate the image turns out, or for that matter, how utterly wrong I was. A name’s not just a name.
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The Beekeeper of Aleppo by Christy Lefteri
The power of Lefteri’s lyrical writing, interspersed with wisdom and grief that I resonated with, had me in its hold.
It takes courage to write thus, as much as be provoked into a vulnerable state, allow oneself to feel what one would try and otherwise conceal, even ignore.
The triumph of the human spirit endures.
“EDUCATED” by Tara Westover
Who’s to say whether the events occurred the way they did, because to the memoirist, they absolutely did! So here we have Tara Westover’s version of her grasp of what it is to be educated; her trials and tribulations and what led her to an undeniable need to pen her memoir. I’m glad she arrived where she did and I rejoice with her, even as my heart hurt when I put the book down.