On, In, and Around Mondays: Giving a Little

It started with a tire. I was at the library and saw my neighbor.

"Darn it, my tire is going flat," I complained to her. "I can even see the nail, and it's still got a piece of shingle on it! (The guy next door to me is getting his roof replaced.) Any recommendations where to go for this? Not too far?"

"Oh, I always use J & J for that kind of thing," she answered.

J & J is just down the street from me. It's easy to see and easy to miss. I have passed it a thousand times on the way to other places.

I dropped my girls at the house and drove on to J&J. Within a few minutes, it was all better.

"Fifteen dollars," Joe said.

"Um, I only have twelve dollars and seventy-five cents. Or I could pay on a credit card."

"No problem. Just give us the $12.75."

I did.

This past week, I needed the very same car inspected. Where do you think I went? Yes, J & J. And two days later, my husband's car started making a distressing noise and smelled like something was burning. I went to... [you fill in the blank].

Since J & J is walking distance, I left the cars both times and walked home. Past the flower place with the sun on its sign. Well, after stopping to buy some thyme for my littlest daughter's garden. When the nice Italian man behind the counter heard I was walking home, he made sure to offer me a simple brown paper gift bag to carry my herbal surprise.

I felt suddenly connected to my community in the dearest of ways. People had shared their talents with me, their generosity. They'd given me slack, and it brought me back within a week. It rooted me here just a little bit more.

Online, where "next door" is anywhere in the world, there are very real places, nonetheless. Places we pass a thousand times on the way to somewhere else. Places that are as easy to miss as they are to see. Then one day we find we have a reason to stop in, to come again, to get rooted. TheHighCalling has been one of those places for me.

How about you? Have you found TheHighCalling next-door yet? There's no Italian man behind the counter, but there's a Canadian Farmer, an Iowa Farmer, a Drupal Architect, a South-African photographer, a Texas mom, and so on and so on.

No one behind the counter is going to charge you $15.00, or even $12.75. It's free for the stopping-in. But it does take a whole lot of resources to maintain.

Maybe you would like to say thanks in some small way? You can give a little (as little as $10), or tweet or Facebook these stories about others who did...


Ann Kroeker, Jennifer Lee, Deidra Riggs, Bradley Moore, Laura Bogess, Charity Singleton, and Glynn Young (where you can still get a poem in your honor if you give to THC)

Speaking of giving, I need to follow up on my offer to give away Sacred Rhythms as part of our celebration for TheHighCalling's Give Campaign. It goes to Darlene, of Simply Darlene. Congratulations! And thanks for all you give to me and to TheHighCalling community. If I get a virtual flat tire, I might just stop by your place. :)

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On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place. Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below.

If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)

<a href="http://seedlingsinstone.blogspot.com"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5083/5217906589_c7120874ca.jpg" width="308" height="69" alt="On In Around button" />

This post is also shared with Laura Boggess, for...

Ghost in the Appliances

I have never been one to like guns. My stepfather displayed his rifles on the living room wall (which frightened me), and I watched my mother pull a trigger once (the shotgun kick-back threw her to the ground). We ate deer all winter, claimed by buckshot; I couldn’t look when the deer lay silently in the back of the baby-blue pickup truck.

Despite my feelings about firearms, I am just now thinking of buying a pistol. Because, today, my stove unilaterally changed its clock to military time. I don’t remember this option in the user’s manual. (Just what, I ask, must a stove be planning, to take such measures?)

continue reading, at Curator Magazine

On, In, and Around Mondays: What to Do About Writer's Block, 2

I said I liked her question about writer's block. And I still do. Here are more thoughts on the matter...

Now that you have tried going nowhere to deal with your writer's block, it is time to get out of bed. More than that, it is time to leave the house. Maybe for a whole weekend.





You could go listen to live music. I love the energy of Joy Ike. She was in New York City on Friday night. I was supposed to be there too, reading poetry. I dressed in New York black, put a red ribbon at my neck. I dressed my girls up too. Black and red and dark blue jeans and onyx necklaces. And we were a trio, striding down Madison Avenue, laughing in the night.

"The sky is like a brown-purple painting," said my Eldest. "I've never seen it like that in all my life."

"Take a picture," pleaded my Youngest. I didn't want to stop and maybe miss our return train, but then I thought, "Why not?"





My girls mingled with artists, poets, musicians, guests. They talked about philosophy, food, art, and bare feet. They loved every minute, and I was so glad I'd decided to come.

The next day I turned to country things. Killing poison ivy, planting lavender-flower bulbs I'd forgotten since winter in the fridge. With my shovel, I created hopeful spaces in wet earth and dropped in little brown teardrops of life. At night I made popcorn and declared it a movie night. And my girls and I watched an old comedy. Ground Hog Day. And again we laughed.




Sunday came and I slept in. I stayed in bed just long enough to finish the amazingly lyrical The Blind Contessa's New Machine. Then I took the girls to church, then on to their grandparent's house, then off to an outdoor birthday party. The rain stayed away for the first time in a week.

My Youngest went off and played. My Eldest stuck close, wanted to listen to conversations. We talked to a neuroscientist who is also a musician, another musician who has learned how to play every instrument in the orchestra. We talked books, escapades, philosophy, life.

The weekend gave me so many things I could write about. The brown-purple sky, the Norwegian paintings on the wall at the IAM space, tiny little quail eggs, my Youngest playing hide and seek in the night, a red ribbon at my neck to match the red thread in one of the poems I shared, and my Eldest dancing...whirling by the bonfire.

RELATED:
What to Do About Writer's Block

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On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place. Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below.

If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)

<a href="http://seedlingsinstone.blogspot.com"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5083/5217906589_c7120874ca.jpg" width="308" height="69" alt="On In Around button" />

This post is also shared with Laura Boggess, for...

On, In and Around Mondays: What to Do About Writer's Block

What do you do when you don't have words, she's been asking. I might answer this more than once. I like the question. Here's an idea for today...

Choose a morning. Stay in bed. This is not going to take all day. Grab a notebook (the one you keep by your bedside, or will after today).

Leave the curtains closed. Mine are faded yellow with leaves, lilacs, and unidentifiable pink flowers that could pass for peonies if you let them. I like these curtains all right. They were our first real purchase as newlyweds, in search of a matching bedroom set. By now, the curtains don't match the comforter, for two reasons. One, the old comforter got tossed (I think it was too hot for one of the people who sleeps underneath it). And, two, I am allergic to Bed, Bath, and Beyond— both the little white price stickies and the candle section.

If you leave the shades down while you write, it will be hard to see the lines in your notebook. Maybe that is just what you need. Maybe you've been too attentive to the lines lately.

My shades, by the way, are of the Room-Darkening Power Level. As I recall, the little white price stickies proved it. Which would be perfectly fine if the shades kept me asleep through sunrise. Who wouldn't pay extra for a good night's sleep?

The sun begins its rising at about 4 a.m. I know this, because the super-hero shades are no competition for my body's Light-Awareness-Sensors. (I am wishing I could patent these sensors for some useful purpose, package them in pink peony paper, and sell them at Bed, Bath and Beyond.)

Besides developing a great potential product for sleep-deprived middle agers, you have now almost filled a page in your notebook with confessions of your losses and your superpowers. It is no doubt messy, the curtains are still drawn, your bed isn't made. But there are two good outcomes: you've finally written something, and nobody can tell that the curtains don't match the comforter.
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On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place. Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below.

If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)

<a href="http://seedlingsinstone.blogspot.com"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5083/5217906589_c7120874ca.jpg" width="308" height="69" alt="On In Around button" />

This post is also shared with Laura Boggess, for...

Make Your Own Wordle

Over at T. S. Poetry Press, we're making a Wordle by giving answers to three questions:

1. one of your favorite poets?
2. one of your favorite poetry books?
3. one of your favorite lines from a poem?

Along our wordling way, one poet made his own Wordle, based on his poetry book, and shared it on the Wall. I liked this idea, so I made a Wordle based on my poetry book InsideOut (see above). It was fun to discover that I have "colorful" tendencies.

How about you? Would you consider Wordling, using some kind of poetic grist? What would you use?

If you decide to try it out, post your poetry Wordle on your blog, with an explanation of what kinds of material you used to create it. Then share your Wordle with us by next Wednesday, May 18th, for definite links and possible feature over at Tweetspeak Poetry. Just drop your link on the T. S. Wall.

So many ways to play with words... :)

Finding the Metaphor in Maples

Confidence, says Ted Kooser. That's what a metaphor communicates.

But it isn't easy to deal in metaphors. They can get silly rather quickly, when we push the relationship between one thing and another too far (Kooser cites a poem about the ocean, which successfully compares the ocean to cows. The poem works because it doesn't go too far, like trying to say that the waves "Moo.")

This week, over at TheHighCalling, we're trying to revive dead metaphors. I might still do that, but here's a live one I found outside my window one evening...


Little Japanese ladies
walk to the edge
of every path,
dip their lace-green parasols
into the golden waves.

I am not going to say that it was good to be confident about this particular metaphor. Someone else surely could have done it better. What I can say is that the little confidence I had with it came from a very sure impression that the maple flowers looked like little parasols all tipped upside down. And for some reason I felt compelled to tell you that in a poem.

Well, at least you can be thankful I didn't have the ladies sing and serve tea to the sky. :)

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Got a metaphor poem to share? Join Random Acts of Poetry, to share your link and possibly be featured.

(Also sharing today with One Shot Wednesday.)

On, In, and Around Mondays: Of Warrior Squirrels and Weeds

"It's your nemesis!" I kidded her. "Every gardener has a nemesis!"

Hers is Bishop's Weed, and it has invaded the garden beds. For the last two years, I gave up trying to fight it. The possibility of yielding six string beans for my triumphs against a marching weed just didn't seem worth the effort. (The two beds are small and my gardening skills are less than enchanting.)

But I am feeling a bit revived for the Great Bishops Battle, now that I gave a garden bed to each of my girls. The girls have already planned, dug, planted, watered, and erected security measures against fat-bellied, seed-eating squirrels.

Puttering in the yard, cutting chicken wire for their security needs, I could hear the girls singing while they weeded, laughing while they watered.

And whatever nemesis I thought was ours seemed suddenly conquerable— if not with wire, wooden stakes, and pepper spray, then at least with our laughter, each to each.

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On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place. Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below.

If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)

<a href="http://seedlingsinstone.blogspot.com"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5083/5217906589_c7120874ca.jpg" width="308" height="69" alt="On In Around button" />

This post is also shared with Laura Boggess, for...

Come Write with Us (While I Eat a Little Pasta)

While I was writing about Guy Kawasaki, the Business of Poetry, and your next RAP prompt, my girls went to the store, bought me flowers, and got ingredients to make dinner.

Then they actually made the dinner.

Talk about enchanting. :)

This Makes Me Want to Give

Over at TheHighCalling.org, we're thinking about giving.

Just a little goes a long way, to create a thoughtful and beautiful community— right in the middle of a crowded, sometimes competitive-feeling online world. So this morning, I hopped over and did a little giving. I don't say this as some kind of pat-me-on-the-back thing. I just think it's important for you to know that I'm willing to give to what I believe is a beautiful thing (I bet you and I may have even met at TheHighCalling... see how beautiful that is? :)

After I gave my little gift, I was pleasantly surprised to see Sam's smiling face pop up, with a thank-you blurb beside his picture. I even listened (that was pretty cool) to him say his thank-you, because there was a little button you could push to hear his pleasant voice.

Anyway. This got me thinking: how fun would it be if I gave something to anyone who might consider giving a little to TheHighCalling.org? (Okay, I can't give to everyone, but I could give to a giveaway winner, so here we are.) For the giveaway, I chose a book that has impacted my life in a Sabbath kind of way, just as TheHighCalling.org has impacted me in a Sabbath kind of way.

And you don't have to do this to enter the Sacred Rhythms giveaway, but I would love it if you'd consider doing one of these things before adding your name to my comment box:

- tweet TheHighCalling.org's give page
- Facebook TheHighCalling.org's give page
- give $10 to encourage 5 people at TheHighCalling.org
- write a blog post telling what TheHighCalling.org has meant to you (and include a link to the give page)

Let me know if you do any of these things and I'll try to retweet, share, and link to your own sweet gifts.

Comment by Thursday, May 12, for a chance to win Sacred Rhythms. And thanks for being a gift to me. :)

On, In, and Around Mondays: Walking Me Back

We are on the couch, and she is reading Clarice Bean to me.

It's been a while since we sat so close. Is it because she's the younger child? Does that put her last in line? Sometimes I think it does.

Today her sister is not here, and now we sit, and she reads. Bit by bit, she moves closer. Her elbow is in my side. Now it's her back against me. Her head rests on my shoulder.

She's a wiggler, so the position keeps shifting. Now her legs are on my shins. Now she's walking me with her feet as if I'm a landscape.

I breathe her in, and my body feels strangely whole. I remember, suddenly, when I was her world. When, as an infant, she'd nurse and walk her feet up my torso, up to my shoulder, up to my neck, then back down. I was her river, her sky, her land.

Just for this moment, it is like nothing at all will ever happen again. Nothing but this walking. The earth, surely, has stopped its spinning. Or I have simply stopped mine.

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On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place. Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below.

If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)

<a href="http://seedlingsinstone.blogspot.com"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5083/5217906589_c7120874ca.jpg" width="308" height="69" alt="On In Around button" />

This post is also shared with Laura Boggess, for...