BetweenTheWords

“At such moments one imagines that one stands on some spot of a small planet gazing in amazement as the cold and yet profoundly moving beauty of the eternal, the unfathomable. Life and death flow into one, and there is neither evolution nor eternity, only being.”

~ Albert Einstein

The idea of noting the gestures people use as a springboard for characterization makes me ponder the physical versus the mental world I find myself inhabiting, the world of thoughts, ideas and dreams.  I often rub my head or run my fingers through my hair as I think as a way to stimulate my brain perhaps, through my scalp.  I am spending many hours thinking now, planning, and problem solving, in my empty nest for the house is quiet and outside the rain is coming down more loudly, the fountain is trickling and occasionally the whir of the heater fills the room with sound.  I am basking in silence and really don’t feel much need for noise from television or even music at this point.  My thoughts are noise enough and the click of the keyboard as I type, the rhythm of my more solitary life.

People develop gestures early in life and the children in my class already have definitive gestures that make them unique, the twirling of hair, the sucking of fingers, playing with their shoelaces or those who are anxious to please, folding their hands and sitting at attention.  I remember my mother’s gestures, the way she folded her hands, her tilt of the head as she thought about something, the gestures I knew and made me comfortable through familiarity and consistency.

How do I appear as a character?  I imagine myself with a furrowed brown, thinking of a way out, my shoulders heavy but my eyes looking up, looking forward, ever hopeful and optimistic.  I sit somewhat comfortably but feel the need to get up and move, as if my movement will allow the chi energy to move too.  The energy needed to push things along, to move things forward, and to allow progress.

The thought of actually writing by hand, with a pen, is not one I relish for my hand cramps forcing the thoughts to get stuck waiting for my hand to move faster and dictating into a recording device is not my style.  I like the computer, my laptop in particular.  It is a comforting friend that has seen me through the tough times in my online graduate school program, the learning curve of “bill pay” and Google Documents, the excitement of learning to make movies on iMovie and iDVD, editing photos on iPhoto, exploring Facebook and iChat.  I am connected, and feel like a technology wiz.  All that at 80 words per minute, no wonder I am addicted.  My computer is my pal and allows me to type just about as fast as I think, which means I can write with a flow that my hand no longer allows.

I understand the concept behind shaking things up to get new ideas flowing though. I do that regularly in my classroom and it is rare that I repeat my curriculum delivery two years in a row, which is how I keep it exciting and why after 30 (!) years- I still love teaching.  I never know what will inspire me to veer off in a new direction but inevitably something strikes me, or serendipity presents a gift.  This year, I happened to be eating lunch at one of my favorite little places The Baker, when I noticed a big thank you card posted in the restroom written by a class of kindergarten students after their field trip to bake bread.  I inquired about the field trip, talked to the owner and happily arranged a trip for my class.  I decided to focus on the community worker aspect and to make it a little spicier, the machines and tools of the baking business.  I went in and took photos of the baking machines, ovens, scales and mixers and will develop a unit with our science teacher about simple machines to get the children excited in anticipation of their bakery visit.  I have had offers from parents in my class to share other simple machines and tools with the children so they can have a first hand experience and come to their own conclusions about the importance and necessity of tools.  This is a new unit for me and I love the adrenalin rush of creating something new and fun.  This is the joy of teaching.  This is how I “switch instruments.”

How does one focus on raising the stakes while writing, making a situation go from bad to worse, or creating a character that is in a situation that becomes more intense while focusing on positive energy and outcomes?  I am emitting positive energy and thoughts with the belief that more of the same will return to me, so by changing the perspective, flipping the idea written on this card, I can raise the stakes to a higher more positive level.  There is real drama in my life, no need for creative writing here.  The way to raise the stakes is to finesse, argue, fight, convince, document, search, call, email and to expand my cast of characters.  I am not too proud to plead for a chance, an opportunity to stay put.  I am familiar with the names of my congressman, senator and government offices I hadn’t heard of before.  My web searching skills have evolved to a new level and my tendency toward the obsessive is finally coming in handy and my scavenger hunt expands daily and the stakes grow higher, the deadlines closer and the attempt to stay on the positive, hopeful track, more challenging.

Writing in the same direction can lead to redundancy and thoughts that manifest themselves into realities we wish wouldn’t be realized.  The experiment of flipping it over, whether it is the attitude, the writing or the perspective, allows a fresh breeze to wisp in and rejuvenate ideas.  Today, instead of letting the weight of reality settle on my shoulders, I am going to view the gifts I have received and in doing so, I realize there have been quite a few.  Gifts that have added up to quite a lot and have made our road easier and the recovery seem possible, gifts of jobs that provide income and a chance for intellectual stimulation, gifts of health and health care, gifts of shelter and a home that feels safe and comforting, gifts of family that cares and is here for us, and the gift of friends that rally and support.

Appreciation and affirmation of what is good in this world and what life is really about helps me to see the bigger picture, which is much bigger than it first appears.  Flipping my perspective gives me a jump-start out of the deep hole, up to sea level with meadows and mountains in sight.  There is a future, perhaps different than my original story, but a great revision all the same.

There really are no coincidences; I realized when I selected this card, “breathe” after addressing the issue of breathing in my last couple of posts.  The use of breath as a centering device, or mechanism, is central to yoga and is ancient in its roots found in almost all world religions.  In fact, prayer and meditation consist of sounds and songs whose musical rhythms encourage a slowness of breath.  There are popular songs written about breathing, different versions entitled “Just Breathe” by Faith Hill, Michelle Branch, Pearl Jam and others, and poems related to breath are common.  Pondering what focusing on breathing does for ones soul makes me notice other similar phrases such as Be Here Now the popular book circa 1971 by Ram Dass, or Wherever You Go, There You Are by Jon Kabat Zinn, Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff and Slowing Down to the Speed of Life by Kristine and Richard Carlson and blogs such as Zen Habits by Leo Babauta urging us to slow down, stop and take notice, see the simple things until we are able to slow down enough to be content to spend a few moments each day focusing on perhaps the most simple element in life, that sustains life, breath.

When we first created our backyard, I wanted a visual reminder to encourage us to stop and enjoy the paradise we created.  I found it in a cement wall plaque at my favorite nursery.  It is easy to speed by, keep busy and productive and check off items off the endless “to do” list.  It is much more difficult to stop, be still, breath and wait for the ideas to come, for the inspiration to come and the calm to come.  I am learning.

Breathe

Begin by relaxing

Really letting the world fade away

Everything can wait

As time stands still for a moment

The steady rhythm of life’s force

Has powers

Existing forever.

Selecting this card from the deck gave me pause for thought for I haven’t written poetry for years, and then it was usually romantically inclined lamenting broken promises and a broken heart.  This past weekend, my sister and I discovered some of our mother’s poetry, penned in her young teenage cursive, still impeccable, and it was so strange to read of her tortured heart written while dating our birth father, when she was about 19 years old.  Young love, that eventually did not last, but lasted long enough to allow my sister and me to enter this world.  Poetry is often called a window to the soul and reading between the lines, or between the words, as in the title of my blog, gives insight and a private glimpse through that window.  The card is “rhyme” but my thoughts are not playful tonight and the poetry I am inspired to write does not rhyme.

The Battle

The ammunition is sent on paper,

or more often through fiber optic cables

traveling at lightening speed

delivering unwanted messages

that leave gaping wounds.

New ideas spring forth like bandages

offering temporary relief and the

thought that now everything has a chance

of being alright.

But not really.

Because the troops are merely realigning

readying their instruments of war

to mount another attack,

leaving us weaker and suffering wounds

that perhaps are too severe for bandages, stitches or

other medical attention.

Eventually the battle will be won or lost,

but either way, the scars remain

and the exhaustion commands us to

rest.

The Yiddish translation of this phrase is to “rub your bottom on the chair.”  In other words, sit still.  We are often so busy running from place to place, activity to activity, responsibility to responsibility, that we do not allow ourselves the opportunity to just sit and think, or simply just to sit.  I have my lovely writing desk inherited from my mother, and writing there has been an inspiration, but sometimes, sitting in the comfortable living room chair with my feet resting on the matching ottoman, is just what I need.  I have had these three pieces of furniture (the chair, ottoman and side table) for years but just this past month decided to create a space by adding a tall lamp, providing the light I needed to read and write and now the side table is littered with pens and small pads of paper for my seemingly endless notes to myself about ideas and of course the requisite pile of books I am reading.  I sit in this cozy spot and ideas flow into my mind and out my fingertips.  My dog Charlie laying at my side, his steady, rhythmic breathing welcome company and I could spend the day here and having chosen this card, Ribe Tuchus, from The Observation Deck bidding me to spend an hour sitting, writing the task does not seem difficult.  I wish I had hours to sit in this spot.

Sitting still is similar to breathing, for in the yoga sense, returning to the breath, finding stillness and quieting the mind so that the inspiration will come, the peace will come, the answers will come is a gift and the essence of being.

Dedicating work to someone else can give meaning to the work and motivation to the writer by providing answers to the questions:  Whom am I talking to when I write and whom do I want to read my writing?  Today I dedicate my writing to those needing a push, as I do, to be the catalyst, to make things happen and to stay above ground.  There is a saying about letting things fall through the cracks in life, we say it in education as in, “We don’t want any student to fall through the cracks,” and we say it about responsibilities as in, “Don’t let those bills fall through the cracks,” however, lately I prefer to think of pushing up through the cracks and when I saw this stubborn little plant in my driveway, pushing through a crack, beating the odds and surviving, beginning to thrive, I considered it a sign of hope.  Hope that we too can push through our cracks and rise up and thrive.

Battling for nearly a year with those involved in the loan modification of our home, some supporters and others malicious with ulterior motives, waiting, stalling and doing their utmost to postpone long enough to make any workout impossible, has brought out the fighting spirit in me.  I can be smarter, craftier and more determined than they are, like my little plant mascot, I can push up through the deep crevice that has been the past year and a half of my life; hold my stem up tall and spread out my leaves to the waiting sun.  I have plenty of drive, ambition, effort and vision and I can picture what I desire, create a visual, and believe in what is good and right.  Unfortunately, that is not a guarantee for there are those out there that rely on formulas that are not inclusive of human lives and have no belief in karma, what is right, or making the world a more positive, better place.

Like the little plant, that awaits the possibility that some giant will mistake it for a weed and yank it out, or look past it and step on it or refuse to notice it at all, I am at the mercy of a bigger giant which daily tramples on others more frail than itself, flaunting its ability to make judgments that ultimately determine survival or demise.

The exercise is to create a story title by combining a color and a noun, an exercise meant to write a concise piece and to practice eliminating unnecessary words.  Rewriting and editing are hard tools for writers and I am no exception.  I remember as a young writer I never wanted to do the difficult editing, I just wanted to write it perfectly the first time. As I got older, I began to appreciate the opportunity to have a “do over,” a chance to correct and improve.  If only it were that easy in life.  If those opportunities existed, I can think of storylines in my life I would rewrite with abandon.  Of course, the elimination of words is a process that is difficult, we don’t like to eliminate, and we like to acquire:  clothes, people, possessions, and money.  We want more of most things so perhaps the lesson then, is to learn to want less, to say more with fewer words and to live more with less and to need less.  Here is my attempt to reduce.

The Taupe House

The house sits on a slightly raised lot, a bit higher than its neighbor to the west, which gives it a vantage point.  The front yard with its curved driveway and ample parking is small but welcoming and the vines trailing down beside the windows are lush and require frequent trimming.  It is the back yard that acts as a secret fantasyland complete with jungle-like foliage and pool.  The escape from the outside world is treasured.  Golden silence.

Another view and eliminate 20 words…

The Taupe House

I sit proudly on my perch looking down, just a bit, on my neighbors.  I am graced with swiftly growing vines.  My backyard is sheltered and jungle-like with a pool as the centerpiece.  I provide escape, relaxation and privacy.  Golden silence.

Eliminate 20 more words….

The Taupe House

I sit proudly on my perch graced with swiftly growing vines, my backyard sheltered, jungle-like, featuring a pool providing escape, relaxation and privacy.  Golden silence.

The classroom is mostly quiet now, with the exception of the hum of the blessed air conditioner and the occasional ringing of the two bells indicating the necessity of the plant manager.  The chairs are pushed in and the tables almost clear of the materials readied for the new year, a year that will be different, yet the same, as many others.  Right now the playground is waiting patiently for the laughter of children that will fill it next week and the dolls in the playhouse wait patiently in their crib, clothing in tact and the plastic multicultural foods await preparation in the labeled bins.  The smell of fresh, new crayons is in the air and the computers are happily waiting to begin their whir and hum of activity.  For me, even music is not necessary yet; the silence is a giant space, open with possibilities and fresh with optimism.  A bigger class this year, 24 or 25 new little students, some scared, some overly confident, most excited to begin an adventure that will last for the next 13 years.  They enter the institution in the best of possible ways, a soft landing filled with songs, games, colorful paint and new stories told while they sit in squares on a colorful carpet rapt with attention.  Friends wait to be made, blank paper filled with colorful drawings and easels beckon for young artists unhampered by thoughts of how things should be, instead filled with the endless imaginings of how things can be. Soon enough, the rhythm instruments will ting and jingle, sticks will tap and little children will bounce around the room, most unable to sit for long.  They will be introduced to letters sounds, counting songs, The Pledge of Allegiance and happy songs of friendship.  They will make life-long friends here in this safe place and will tell secrets, whisper, and hug with abandon unable to keep from expressing the simple joy of loving a friend or the happiness of running out the door to play.  They will learn to appreciate the stillness of their own breath while in yoga postures stretching their bodies and minds to appreciate the stillness and space that allows for peacefulness.  The silence is space, yet it is full of possibilities, experiences yet unknown and the peace of planning for future memories that will resonate in a happy place contained in the hearts of the future residents of Room K.