La La Moonlight

Yesterday — there was a solar eclipse and a new moon + a lot of other planets’ energy mixing it up and duking it out. Chaos as a game changer. Yesterday, in a rare Hollywood-like-made-for-the-moment-alignment of cosmic humor at the Academy Awards, the winner for best picture (highlight of the show) was named incorrectly and quickly repealed. Chaos and comedy. As it is above – so it is below.

Disclaimer: I did not watch the show nor have I seen either film, however I read enough about each movie to understand that they are complete opposites on the reality-scope meter. That the Hollywood throw-back fantasy musical movie La La Land was misnamed as best picture and rescinded for the real winner Moonlight, about the gritty life of a black man who grows up in a street-drug culture and loves another man in an unforgiving neighborhood, is simply an amazing mixup and yet entirely understandable in the context of the astral energy. Life never fails to entertain or annoy depending on one’s choice of view. Same can be said for the Academy Awards show itself.

This is the next to the last of my daily posts for mindful writing and daily haiku during January and February. In a chaotic fake news-political year, it is a fitting ending on the entertainment scale as well. What I believe is missing from view on all fronts is that there are no real winners or losers — just different choices. In the end, out of chaos comes creativity – the true measure of success.

~

agita at the Oscars La La Moonlight

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fake news at The Oscars can you believe it?

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solar eclipse new moon
enjoy or annoy
Oscar mashup
~

And from last year’s haiku:

expectations:
the dance between
fickle and moonset

IMG_6109

Bourbon and Blackberries

It’s just a few minutes before 4:00 AM, and it’s just a few days before the start of a new year.

Time — it’s all an illusion, and yet it fully engages, sparks and/or distracts us. So with that thought in mind, I am choosing once again (my fifth year) to commit to the practice of daily writing during January and onto February. January is for writing small stones (described below) and February for writing small poems. Thank you to Fiona Robyn, now Satya Robyn, for introducing and poeting small stones back in 2011. It’s a practice, along with painting, that satiates my inmate desire to combine presence and imagination, reality and whimsy with poetry and prose.

bourbon and blackberries — how does art get done?

Mindful Writing Tool: small stones

A small stone is a short piece of writing (prose or poetry) that precisely captures a fully-engaged moment. The process of finding small stones is as important as the finished product – searching for them will encourage you to keep your eyes (and ears, nose, mouth, fingers, feelings and mind) open.
A small stone is a short piece of writing that precisely captures a fully-engaged moment.

towels and shirts and pillowcases show me the shapes of the breeze

Fiona Robyn

writingyourwayhome.com

Endings and Beginnings

“Mixed in with piles of this and that are glimpses here and there of who I want to be then and now”.

I wrote this line a couple of weeks ago here on “The Poetry of Soil”  and titled it “Creative Scraps.” It resonated with me long after I hit the post-button and the sentence tumbled into the pantheon of words-on-line that return to life as screen dust.

It’s almost January and time for my annual exercise, started by another blogger, called “A Small Stone.” A small stone is the practice of writing a short piece on a daily basis for one month about a moment or more that occurs during your day. It can be poetic, a rant, a hoot or anything in-between. The idea is to support paying attention and bringing light to even a small part of your day and thus honoring a fragment that most often gets lost in the blur. I believe that this is the fourth year that I am working on this original intention despite it no longer being a group on-line activity. Gratitude is a big chunk of this exercise, and the practice itself nurtures and sparks creativity.

I am starting today with this introduction, because I need to begin by stretching similar to stretching before a run or workout. It’s the last Sunday in December and 2015 (already), and it feels like a good place to begin.

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Endings and beginnings.
Piles of this and that.
Glimpses of here and there.
Who I want to be then and now.

~

a small stone in my pocket last year’s laundry list

~

ag

NaHaiWriMo #28

Last day of National Haiku Writers’ Month.

I have not reviewed what I wrote over this past frigid month, but I know that the extreme cold and snow were featured extensively. Some haiku are good, some so-so and others not-so, however I managed to write about some part of each day during February and January with as much poetic spell as I could muster. For my last haiku, I would like to dedicate it to a wonderful haiku writer/editor/publisher and teacher. He coined the phrase “poetic spell” and was a strong, although faraway (over an ocean) voice, who helped me grow my poetry. Martin Lucas passed away into the great poetic spell last year. His wisdom, common sense and poetry are greatly missed and remembered with affection and gratitude. Martin was an avid birder as well as poet and nature lover.

 

snow on the dunes nesting sites emerge from a cloudless sky

for Martin

 

ag ~ 2015

January 31…

Last day of January and mindful writing 2015. I leave with a ditzy ditty:

 

Slippery Soap

 

I scrum I yawn

lose control

oh no there it goes

on a forward reach

past my toes.

 

Ride-a-cycle

’round the tub

scud the rim

a few seconds later

those verbs-of-sin.

 

Having some fun

life on its own

a bar of soap

sails right past into

that slippery zone.

 

See you tomorrow for the first of NaHaiWriMo – National Haiku Writing Month.

 

ag ~ 2015

 

 

 

January 30…

We often give very little consideration to those people who live toward the edge of our lives. They’re not part of our inner circle but orbit somewhere on the far circumference – so much so that we hardly pay attention to them until they disappear. Usually for me this means they move out of my figurative or literal neighborhood. When this happens, their presence comes into sharp focus because of their new or pending absence. It does not matter how little contact I really have with them – it’s always more than enough for some tearful grief.

 

news of her moving flashbacks to winter in fourth grade

 

ag ~ 2015