Seedlings in Stone: March 2012

On, In, and Around Mondays: The Power of Presence in Photos & Writing

"It has presence," I said.

I was trying to explain why the photograph worked.

A few days later, I was reading Edward Hirsch, and found this: "Poems are presences."

The two events have been on my mind all morning.

What gives a sense of presence?

I look at the photograph of the purple wildflowers, taken at the side of the horse trail. I had to bend all the way down, get impossibly close to their tiny selves to get that shot. I believe *proximity* is one element that gives the photo a sense of presence.

The green flowers on the counter (below). My daughter brought them in from a walk. She'd noticed their intricacies and thought I would find them beautiful. I did. The light on the counter was lovely, so I placed the flowers there and went to get my camera. Of all the shots I took, I realize this one is best because of the angle: it implies a sense of approach, a coming upon. Yes, then, a presence.

The trees are so much further away. Can presence be found at a distance? I think it can. The angles of the trees, the shadows, the subtle standing-over (I was on a hill, and took the shot downwards), these all imply encounter, aliveness, presence-to-presence.

I want to make my poems be presences, like Hirsch claims they are. I want to make all my writing have presence. I am thinking this morning about the photographs. What do they have to teach me?

Proximity, point-of-view, angle, framing, contrast. Harder, for me, in words. I must create and recreate images, as if I am that woman on the horse trail, showing you—for the first time—the purple wildflowers whispering near her toes.
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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. :)

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Labels: On in and Around Mondays, photography, writing

On, In, and Around Mondays: Draw that Circle Now

She opens the box.

It is books. A lot of poetry books. Sent to me by an editor friend.

I figure she will look through them, stack them up somewhere in the living room, walk away.

But no.

She makes a circle. "It's a poetry circle!" she exclaims. "For you!"

I am sorry I can't sit cross-legged in that space on the hardwood floor, but I love the idea, and I say so. I tell her, too, that it feels magical and inspiring. Perfect for writing.

I've been reading Get Rich Click, and getting too many ideas about both business and writing.

Last night, a bit overawed at the too-many-ideas, I thought of the Poetry Circle. I thought about how important it is to not get side-tracked with everybody else's ideas of what you should do, or even your own ideas when they are too many.

"Just draw a circle, Laura," I thought. "You can hop in, you can hop out. But when you're in, it's a sacred, quiet, focused place. Both powerful and peaceful, in its way."

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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. :)

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Labels: business theory, On in and Around Mondays, writing

On, In, and Around Mondays: Say Yes

"The heart-stopping act of saying yes."

I still remember those words from The Soul Tells a Story. They seem apt for a weekend when I talked about saying no as a path to the soul.

Sometimes the small yes's are all we can say while we are otherwise saying no. I think that's okay. It is a positive step while we are, somehow, otherwise motionless.

Now I am thinking of a Thomas Lux poem which ends...

these things
would be delirious
desiring — say yes — to touch

any part of you, and glad, a fire-fed-
with-solid-oxygen glad — say yes — to be, in turn,
touched by you

And I am thinking of the small yes's I said to beautiful natural things, just with my time and my camera, over the past two days...

Were these things made delirious by my presence? Who knows. But I felt delirious to be touched—oh yes—by them.

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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. :)

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

Labels: On in and Around Mondays, solitude

Mug Shot Project: Win Something Beautiful

If you give her your Mug Shot, she might give you something in return...

Check out Laura Boggess's Mug Shot Project promotion. There's Kelly Sauer and Emily Wierenga beauty involved, so you won't want to miss it.

Labels: Emily Wierenga, Kelly Sauer photography, Laura Boggess, mug giveaway, poetry giveaway

On, In, and Around Mondays: The Unfolding Day

The trees are bare against the sky, and they lean across the back road, as if reaching to one to another across the gap. I remember driving this lane with my grandmother over twenty years ago, and suddenly time feels as if it's peeling back. I get this odd sensation that I am returning to something.

My car faces South, keeps making its way down the winding road, until I come to a place near the river, with its old trees, sprawling landscape, view of the mountains on the other side. I will spend hours here today, though I don't know it yet—hours unfolding my imagination, but not in a way I can actually comprehend. I feel, quite literally, as if I have entered a state of no-thoughts, just sound and vision and slow movement, and, finally, sitting for a long time.

Along the way I find things. A field of snowdrops. Furry buds on trees. They ask nothing of me, but I give them something silent, something unnamed.

Near the river, I listen to susurrations. The water's constant shhh, shhh, shhh, to the shore. The windy sound of trains passing. A woman telling her friend about the bride who wore fairy wings over her wedding dress. And another woman telling a man, "Next year we'll be real people."

I am unfolding inside, not sure if what I am finding is wings, or a landing place. Not sure if I am wrapped in Imagination or Reality.

The sun begins to set. I feel I have been waiting for someone, real or imagined. I think of my grandmother and how strongly and beautifully she made her way in this world. I wonder, as the water reflects last light, if I have been waiting for me.

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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. :)

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Labels: On in and Around Mondays

On, In, and Around Mondays: Operation Memory Delivery

"We'll be there in 20 minutes," they said.

I hung up the phone.

"Can you help me move all these books, Honey?" I said to my Littlest. "They're delivering the couch very soon."

She helped me stack and restack the many books we have on the floor near the couch. This is where my Eldest camps out every day, reading, doing her school stuff, making short movies of Spock and Kirk lip-synching things like Mozart's Requiem.

When the stacking was finished, I stayed on alone, and my girl went upstairs to cry.

The delivery guys came and went. The couch looked lovely, but wrong, of course.

Where was the couch on which I'd nursed my girls, taught them to read, watched Merlin in the dark... with the curtains drawn for extra mystery? Out on the sidewalk, soaking up rain.

My girl came back downstairs and cried some more. "It's ugly!" she complained. "I'm never going to sit on it. Not in my whole life." Then she wailed, "It has no memories!"

"We'll have to make some memories."

"I wouldn't make a single memory on a thing like that," she complained again.

She just about wore me down with all her couch-mourning, and I said as much. Then I went upstairs, because it's hard for me to absorb such strong emotions after a while.

About ten minutes later, we passed each other on the red oak stairs, and she took me aside and whispered, "I stood on the arm of the couch."

I gave her one of those looks.

"Then I jumped!" she said.

"Don't tell me that. I don't want to know," I hugged her.

She hugged me back and said, "I'm just making some memories." Then she walked away, and said over her shoulder, "I might do it again tomorrow."

I shook my head and thought, what am I going to do with that girl.

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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. :)

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

Labels: family stories, On in and Around Mondays