F455i SESSION 02

I’ve been working on a few Haibun’s. Here is one. I will post another from a fictional POV this week too.

Name Change.pdf

April 1 and April 12, 1990
This is the POV of me as a preteen

I am noticing these haibun’s are more in the style of documentary poetry/prose. I may be taking too many liberties here. But what I like about the concrete shape of the poem is it reinforces what I see as a handheld mirror. With the Haibuns I am posting this week they are meant to help me and my family hold them up, see ourselves, see our own reflection.

APRIL 1 AND APRIL 12 1990 MIRROR.pdf

Hi all, I made a video this week about how I nurture my creative process. I’m sending along in response to the bonus hw question:
https://www.facebook.com/superpowerofthesong/videos/264419695188767

The obsession prompt has really been working on me this week. At first I thought it would be easy to write about. But what has really surfaced is the memory of a life-long friend who died as a young adult a 4 years ago. Her name is Shayla Roberts. As a teen she was obsessed with fantasy fiction. I spent some time visiting her facebook page looking to receive some of her personality and essence there. I saw some photographs, but mostly it was her sharing recipes and contests she wanted to win.

The most prominent memory that came to me was from a day when we were at the park at a family gathering, while in our teens. She shared with me all about Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. This was before the movies came out. She was so in love with the maps, culture and language that he wrote and announced that she wanted to do that too, specifically write a new language. She went on and on about it.

I was struck by her obsession and ability to share it with me, and even the magical desire she had for what I thought would probably be too hard of a task, to write a new language. I liked books and writing too, but I never really talked about it. I didn’t see a place for it, or anyone who would appreciate it in my life.

I told my mom about the conversation I had with Shayla. Testing out the waters. My mother told me her mother said that their doctor said she may develop schizophrenia if she read too much and they have to try and control that.

This response is the main reason I have several hundred journals from the time I was 8 years old, and have only recently begun to allow myself to identify as a writer. Incidentally I created a very strong boundary this year, not to interact with my mother, and since then my creative spirit has been able to surge, open up to me and resulted in a level of fulfillment and joy I could have been enjoying all along without the toxic lens I was given.

I was reading from All About Love by bell hooks this week (again) and it resonated:

On any day in my family of origin I might have been given caring attention wherein my being a smart girl was affirmed and encouraged. Then, hours later, I would be told that it was precisely because I thought I was so smart that I was likely to go crazy and be put in a mental institution where no one would visit me. Not surprisingly, this odd mixture of care and unkindness did not positively nurture the growth of my spirit.

I told my partner about this and he said that my mom’s reaction was ridiculous. That was the first time I had ever talked about it with anyone else which lead me to a huge aha moment as I realized a connection I hadn’t before made. I watched a TED talk by someone, a woman, I don’t even remember who, who used the phrase “New Language” and kept hold of it as a mantra and even a password to help me remember that is such a beautiful intention, secret and prayer to hold, that in some magical way, was initiated in my consciousness by Shayla when were teenagers.

I had totally forgotten about Shayla when I obsessed over that word a few years ago. I thought I was resonating with it as an adult, because so much of our cultural values are tied into the words we use and reuse and then we end up reinforcing things we really don’t want. It is kind of like Jeanine was saying how we don’t allow ourselves to build new tools.

I thought about Shayla’s death. And the neglect that I feel lead to it. And my not going to her funeral because I could not face the community / church. Too, too toxic. I tried getting dressed to go but was energetically immobilized. I sat down on my bed in what seemed like the most appropriate dress I had, realizing it wasn’t really appropriate.
Then I tried to forget about it. Pangs of guilt have come lightly over the years for that, but this week, the realization came that I can still honor her now.

This week I’ve talked to her while walking alone, hugged a tree as I thanked her and told her how much I miss her and how valuable her presence has been in my life especially now as I have the ability to more consciously receive it.

When I got a little stuck with a song I am working on this week, she came to me. I just suddenly pictured her alone as my audience. She smiled at me. I was overcome with emotion and permission to push forward in a way I have never felt before. I love her so much for coming into my life. My obsession now is with honoring her creative, abundantly loving, open spirit and presence.