Friday, April 30, 2004

Correction

Not the fine web-log of the same name, but making a correction to a slight spelling error. Probably too late to go through and correct the spelling in all the entries where I mention this item, so this entry will have to do:

The brand-name of the journal I've mentioned several times is Moleskine. That final "e" makes a BIG difference, especially when you're searching through the Google wilderness.

The journal is made in Italy, which kinda explains why Real Live Preacher would tell me it's pronounced "Mol-eh-skeen-eh".

This information does put my mind at ease. I've been having nightwares in which crazed Italians were out skinning moles for these journals ....
Ideé d’jour

The reason the Pentagon thought Iraq had weapons of mass destruction was they still had the receipts. — E-mail humor; original source unknown

Thursday, April 29, 2004

Ideé d’jour

Did you know that the worldwide food shortage that threatens up to five hundred million children could be alleviated at the cost of only one day, only ONE day, of modern warfare.
— Peter Ustinov, actor, writer and director (1921-2004)


Wednesday, April 28, 2004

At the end of his book Plan of Attack, Bob Woodward asks the Resident how history would judge his Iraq war. Mr. Bush smiled: "‘History,’ he said, shrugging, taking his hands out of his pockets, extending his arms out and suggesting with his body language that it was so far off. ‘We won't know. We'll all be dead.’"

Unfortunately, this is the administration's attitude about environmental issues, as well. Who cares if the ozone burns away in just a few generations? My cronies & I will be dead by then.

And heck, come the rapture, God's gonna provide us with a brand-spanking new Earth. Yep, after the muscle-bound Jesus has cleaned the clock of all the Muslims, Buddhists, Democrats, and other infidel unbelievers, he's gonna scrub the atmosphere clean so we can start all over again.

All five Republicans who have actually obeyed every jot and tittle of the Mosaic code, that is.
Hand Mandala

These hands
those slender fingers
that silver thread

This silver thread
those illumined notes
that chapel of light

This chapel of light
the intricate lines
define that hungry dark

This darkness
that thin line
this doorway

Those pilgrims
walking through
that doorway

This chapel
that high silver thread
these hands

Hand Mandala
Here you see the mandala I produced in the workshop I describe below. What was interesting about this process was getting my inner critic/analyst to shut the heck up. The critic was saying "You know, this is unbalanced. If you put an element here, you really should balance it with an element here." Just when I put the critic back in his appropriate corner, the analyst would chime in: "You know what this means, don't you? You got secrets. You want to hold your light inside. The teacher's coming over now! She's going to be able to tell how screwed up you are!"

I think we spent, maybe, around 30 minutes creating these mandalas. Of that time, I think I had between 5 to 10 minutes where I could silence those dueling voices. During those times, my hand seemed to flow along the paper. Then my heart seemed to be singing through the whiteness. Well, that's prayer, isn't it?

By the way — my handy dictionary says the word "mandala" comes from Sanscrit, and means "a design symbolizing the universe". This design, I suppose, represents the universe of my soul as well as the greater universe. Both are connected, y'know.

Class time was constrained, so we had to stop at the end of those 30 minutes. As we were reflecting on the process, Ms. Rugh suggested we keep our mandalas in a spot where we would see it on a regular basis. She suggested it might call us to add more to it, or to respond to it in another artistic form (e.g., poetry). Naturally, Elsie asked if I would be writing a poem for my mandala. Thanks to my sense of being blocked, I was non-committal.

I did put the mandala across from my bed, where I would see it every night & every morning.

Phrases started coming into my head as I was driving home. Over the past few days, I've been recording those phrases in my new Moleskin (Mol-eh-skeen-eh, according to Real Live Preacher) Journal®.

Shall I let you peek behind the curtain? I think I shall:
I.
These hands
this intimate intricate chapel of light
those quarter note fingers


This illuminated circle
describing the dark

These hands form
the illuminated circle
which describes the dark

II.
These hands
those slender fingers
that thin silver thread

This chapel of light
those illuminated notes
describing the dark

These fingers
follow the thread
through the dark

Pilgrims honoring
the line that marks
this thin doorway

Moon mountains bow
before earth valleys
as these hands illumine the circuit
As you see, the poem was further honed in the process of transferring it from my Moleskin Journal® to my (larger) bedroom journal.

At least for the moment, the Moleskin is encouraging scribbling for its own sake. Not sure why. Maybe because it is so handy. Maybe because I often carry it close to my heart. Anyway, the notorious inner critic has been mostly quiet as I've scribbled in this new journal.

Perhaps, even though it is a rectangle rather than a circle, this new journal can be a mandala in which I honor & discover my soul.

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

Art Therapy & Spirituality

Image is the language of Soul – Thomas Moore
Saturday, April 24th
St. Gregory's University, Shawnee, OK
Facilitators: Madeline M. Rugh, Ph.D., A.T.R.
Sheryl Cozad, M.F.A.

Ms. Rugh began our session by emphasizing a small hearth she had created. It consisted of a stone, a feather, and a candle. She felt a hearth was important in this enclosed academic studio. A hearth should bring together the fundamental elements of earth (the stone), fire (the candle), air (the feather), and water. The blessed Hildegard von Bingen believed we needed these fundamental elements in our home to help center us, because we are made from them.

Madeline then discussed the origins of Art Therapy, which became an official discipline in 1977. It was created by two sisters; one a Freudian analyst, the other an artist. Each sister represents a different "leg" the discipline has had since its inception: the studio and the couch. The analytic (couch) side sees the discipline primarily as a diagnostic tool. In other words, the patient will draw something and the analyst will interpret the picture to discern what's wrong with the patient with the goal of a "cure".

This emphasis on interpretation, as you might see, negates creativity or aesthetics. Is it possible the Art Therapist could trade a story for the patient's creation? It may seem a subtle difference. It's the difference between telling someone what their art "means" and telling them what their art reminds you of.

This latter response demands a degree of vulnerability most analysts are not comfortable with. Enter James Hillman, and Depth Psychology.

Depth Psychology, building on the theories of Carl Jung, recognizes that Art and Spirituality have long been partners. From the famous cave paintings to Chartres' Rose Window, and on and on, humans have used art as a means of expressing, or relating to, the ineffable. In this model, the therapist listens to the whole of the client's life, using art as the medium for conversation. The art, therefore, has value on its own merit — rather than as a mere diagnostic tool.

Madeline then talked about some of her work as an Art Therapist. In particular, a painting she did for a client. The client told her his story, she prayerfully listened, then created a work of art which incorporated his talismans, spirit guides, and other symbols which were significant to the client.

After Ms. Cozad discussed similar work she has done, Madeline led the group through a hands-on experience. She explained that all care of the soul takes the form of a circle, and that we would be creating our own mandalas. She gave us some black construction paper, white-leaded pencils, and plastic plates.

She then led us in a prayer over our pencils. Talk about honoring your tools!

Open your heart.
Perceive pure soul light
being projected from the back of your skull
onto your third eye.
Feel this light fill your opened heart.
We then used a scratch sheet to get accustomed to our pencil — to get a sense of going from faint white to bright, hard white. Our goal, you see, was to illumniate the manadala.

She told us to lay each hand within the circle and trace it with the other, in any position we wished. From there, we created. With fear & trembling, we entered the mandala, working out our own soul.
Trace the labyrinth with your fingers.
Work into the dark.
Illuminate your circle.
Honor the fruitful darkness.
Ideé d’jour

America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter, and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.
— Abraham Lincoln, 16th U.S. President (1809-1865)
To whit: the Patriot Act (Pts I & II). The pseudo-election of the current Resident. The gerrymandering of Texas, et al (i.e., Colorado). Diebold election machines. The list goes on ....

Monday, April 26, 2004

Sub-Liminals
  1. Elastic :: man
  2. Intervention :: class
  3. Risk :: game
  4. Junk food :: junkie
  5. Arrogance :: American
  6. Responsibility :: Maturity
  7. X :: Malcolm
  8. Marshall :: Plan
  9. Kill :: the killer (or Bill)
  10. Brother :: Dave

The final entry is a sort of "two-fer": it represents both my relative and the comedian.  The first entry would be well understood by the Comic Book Guy.  There may be a connection between 5 and 6.  Like, if our leadership were mature enough to accept responsibility for its actions, perhaps the world community would not view it as being arrogant. Just a thought.
Surreal Compliment

Oh how my pathological scar desires to read poems through the ruddied girth of your soul!
— Courtesy The Surreal Compliment Generator.

Props to Rayne for the link!

Sunday, April 25, 2004

Moleskin Fragments

Eat six metals
watch the rose window spin
like Ezekiel's wheel
Intimately folded eighth notes
across the Celtic line
Have you heard of the Moleskin ® Journal? I had not, until Real Live Preacher posted an entry about his.

Anyway, it's a charming (but, at $10 a pop, expensive) pocket-sized journal which has been used — according to the ads — by Van Gogh, Matisse, and Hemingway. One thing which makes this journal handy is its rigid "moleskin" cover, which makes it easier to write in when one doesn't have a hard surface to place the notebook on.

I bought mine yesterday, at Elsie's encouragement. Doubt I'll start writing like Real Live Preacher or Hemingway. But one guaranteed way for a writer to get over his/her block is for said writer to buy something to honor the trade. Notebook or pen, something about investing in either just about demands that something be written. I can't tell you how many partially full notebooks I have scattered about the place, but each one represents – in its way – a block and the leap over the block.

A word about the above fragments: the first "triad" came to me early Thursday morning. I had been awakened around 2:30 a.m. by 2-3 male cats seranading their intended. It took me a while to wake up enough to scatter the crew elsewhere. In the meantime, my unconscious came up with the mysterious phrase "eat six metals". May have been a curse intended for the horny felines, but I don't think so. There was something else that followed that injunction — some kind of promise, I think — but that's been lost. Anyway, after scattering the kitty chorus, I entered a semi-psychogogic state, and perceived a stained-glass rose window spinning (like Ezekiel's wheel) at the place of my third eye.

The "couplet" came as I was driving home from an "Art Therapy & Spirituality" workshop Elsie and I attended in Shawnee last night. More about that workshop later.

Now, I'm going to church with Preferring Christ in my right hand and my mole journal in my left pants pocket. Who knows what new fragments will be collected?

Friday, April 23, 2004

Ideé d’jour

Poets are constitutionally obliged to be ... sad and lonely; otherwise we'd be writing advertising or self-help books.
— The Very Rt. Rev. Dr. Omed, poet & bon-vivant

Thursday, April 22, 2004

Emily for the Day

Sleep is supposed to be
By souls of sanity
The shutting of the eye.

Sleep is the station grand
Down which, on either hand
The hosts of witness stand!

Morn is supposed to be
By people of degree
The breaking of the Day.

Morning has not occurred!

That shall Aurora be —
East of Eternity —
One with the banner gay —
One in the red array —
That is the break of Day!

c. 1858; Johnson, poem 13, pg 12
Returning to poetry, specifically my study of the early work of Emily Dickinson — This is a charming poem, with a varying rhyme scheme and stanza length.
Most of the stanzas use a triple rhyme (note the "ands" in the second stanza and the "ays" in the final stanza), and it's entirely possible the final word of the first stanza is intended as half rhyme. The long "e" rhymes of the first stanza repeat in the third and fifth stanza. The lonely "ay" rhyme in the third stanza is used to conclude the poem in the fifth stanza. These repeated vowel sounds tend to hold the poem together, and emphasize the lack of a rhyme for the single-line fourth verse.

What I read into this poem is a conflict between people of reason and those who dream. The phrase "souls of sanity" is echoed by "people of degree", which suggests a certain irony, or tension. This tension is brought to the breaking point by the single-line fourth verse: "Morning has not occurred!"

In other words, all the tools of reason do not recognize true morning. "Morning", as a new beginning or new birth, is best recognized in brightly-dressed Aurora, the Roman Goddess of the dawn. This is the province of the poets and the dreamers.
Love, Italian Style

My referrer list made me aware that someone in Italy had Googled into this page. This, in turn, led me to an Italian version of this blog page. You know? I think I sound better in a Romance language.

Here's my "Woody Guthrie-ish" verse, "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Uncle Sam" in Italian:
Non lasci il sole andare giù sullo zio Sam
Non lasci il sole andare giù sulla libertà
Non lasci la libertà essere di funzionare dalla città
Non lasci la nostra bandierina transformarsi in in treason
Non lasci la vittoria delle ombre
Neghi gli uomini poco profondi
Con le teste fatte di paglia

Non lasci il sole regolarsi su discorso libero,
vita, libertà e consuetudinario;
Non lasci che il timore regoli il giorno
Non voti i vostri diritti via

Non lasci il sole andare giù sullo zio Sam
Mantengalo vivo & camminando attraverso la nostra terra
Pretty cool, huh?

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

“Best Of” Now Available

Not that I suppose anyone has been chomping at the bit, but I've finally completed a mini-site which compiles what I believe are the best entries I've posted over the past year (March 03 – March 04).

Click here for the "Home Page"

I'm afraid I was left to my own devices, as there were no nominations for best entries (insert appropriate Eyore-quality sigh here). I had a couple of criteria as I selected the entries: (1) entries I still liked upon re-reading; and (2) entries which received positive feed-back when they were posted.

The first two choices (listed under "Prose" on the home page) reflect firsts — the first entry on the blog, and the first poem I posted.

Here's the complete list:
Prose
  1. First Post
  2. First Poem
  3. On Forgiveness
  4. Meeting George Wallace
  5. Who Am I This Time?
  6. What's in a Name,II
  7. Happy Birthday, St. Leonard
  8. Today's Holy Reading
  9. Belated Lectio
  10. Automatic Apocalypse
Poetry
  1. Beautiful Hands
  2. My beloved is handsome
  3. It's 4 a.m.
  4. She sleeps in beauty
  5. Door Open
  6. America, the Lost
  7. Storm at Midnight
  8. rosary guitar
  9. Ruby Stars
  10. Jonquil Dreams
Lastly, grateful props to Ms. Candide (of the late, lamented Thistle & Hemlock for her support and advice.

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

More Changes
I've been tweaking some things in the Saturn Sequence on-line chapbook. Among the notable changes: I've added 5 poems to the "Other Poems" section:
  1. Crash on the Highway
  2. Ghosts on the Radio
  3. The Green House
  4. Java Blues
  5. Death of the Father
Two of these are song lyrics. One of the songs is obviously a song; the other is not. Your mission: name the two songs.

What's On Your Desk?

My Desk
In his comment on my "Book Game" entry, Dr. Omed asked what books I have on my desk. As you can see, there is precious little room actually on my desk. I moved The Book of Mercy back to the book shelves, so the only book literally on my desk at the moment is the King James' Version of The Book of Psalms, which was given to me when I was very young (maybe age 5). Near the desk is Thomas H. Johnson's edition of The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, which I've been drawing on as I sporadically study the work of that magnificent poet.

As Elsie has pointed out, I have a series of neat piles throughout the house. So, in no special order, here are the books stacked in strategic places about the house:

Table
  • Sing Out! v48, no 1
  • Linda Cobb: Talking Dirty with / Talking Dirty Laundry with / the Queen of Clean
  • Patricia Cornwell: Portrait of a Killer
  • UNESCO: Our North American Heritage
  • Chaucer: The Canterbury Tales (NCE)
Recliner
  • Thich Nhat Hanh: Going Home: Jesus & Buddha as Brothers
  • Kevin Phillips: American Dynasty
  • Barbara Kingsolver: Small Wonder
  • Richard Rhodes: How to Write
  • Larry Dossey: Prayer is Good Medicine
  • Malachy McCourt: Danny Boy – Legend of the Beloved Irish Ballad
Couch
  • Marianne Williamson: Illuminata
  • Susan Wooldridge: poemcrazy
  • Roberts & Amidon, eds: Prayers for a Thousand Years
Flight Path
  • Norvene Vest: Preferring Christ: A Devotional Commentary & Workbook on the Rule of St. Benedict
Bed
  • Paul Begala: It's Still the Economy Stupid
  • Margaret Crave: I Heard the Owl Call My Name
  • Andy Gill & Kevin Odegard: A Simple Twist of Fate: Bob Dylan and the Making of Blood on the Tracks
  • Thomas a´Kempis: Of the Imitation of Christ
  • Terry Southern: Red-Dirt Marijuana
  • Patrick McDonnell: Mutts 6 - A Little Look-See
  • Terry Moore: Strangers in Paradise 12: Heart in Hand
I am actively reading A Simple Twist of Fate and Benedict's Dharma (the latter edited by Patrick Henry). I also read Entertainment Weekly as I eat breakfast. If that's not too much information.

Dr. Omed has also challenged me to craft a found poem from these fifth line on page 23 of each of these books. I'll consider it. Might be just the thing I need to break my current block.

Monday, April 19, 2004

Changes

I have moved the location of my electronic chapbook, The Saturn Sequence. This new location insures that you (my trusted and loyal audience) will be able to read the poetry collected without the distraction of persistent pop-up ads.

I am also working on the "Best of 2003-2004" pages, which will include poetry and prose selections that have been posted on this site from March of '03 through March '04.

Stay tuned for more details.
Sub-Liminal
  1. Virginia :: Roanoke
  2. Soft :: tissue
  3. Carol :: Y—
  4. Vanity :: Fair
  5. Feminist :: humanist
  6. Alias :: Sydney Briscoe
  7. Coward :: Noel
  8. Beer :: chaser
  9. Chance :: the Gardner
  10. Honest :: to goodness
Item 3 refers to a friend named Carol. Item 6 is related to a tv program. I think the other responses may go without explanation.

Sunday, April 18, 2004

The Book Game

I first saw this peculiar game mentioned at Katey's One Good Bumblebee. Since then, I've seen it at Mabrina's Forge, the Stickpoet, and elsewhere.

Gotta say, I don't really get the point of the excercise, but it's a cute idea. Besides, the Good Doctor has done it. So, I naturally do as the Doctor orders.

Here's the rules:
  1. Grab the nearest book.
  2. Open the book to page 23.
  3. Find the fifth sentence.
  4. Post the text of the sentence along with these instructions.
The book which is on my (somewhat cluttered) desk at the moment is Book of Mercy by Leonard Cohen (Random House, New York, NY, © 1984). This book is promoted as "contemporary psalms", and I'm inclined to agree. Uniquely, these are psalms written as prose poetry.

Psalm 11 begins on page 23 of this particular edition. The fifth sentence of this psalm is "Various families came to him and showed him all the chairs he might sit in."

Now what does that tell us? What does it tell me that Dr. Omed has Camille Paglia's Sexual Personae: Art and Decadence from Nefertiti to Emily Dickinson close to hand? Not much, I suppose. It does introduce folk in the blogverse to a number of different books, and alternate voices.

All to the good.

Friday, April 16, 2004

Ideé d’jour

Unthinking respect for authority is the greatest enemy of truth.
— Albert Einstein, physicist, Nobel laureate (1879-1955)