Taught two yoga classes,
body is tired.
Kids are with their dad and his mistress
on a “family” trip to the ocean…
And I’m here, alone,
to make this time count.
What do I do?
Take a nap?
Read a book?
Make some art?
Write in my journal?
Play my guitar?
Bang on my drum?
Sew a dress?
Knit a scarf?
Drink some wine?
When faced with so many choices,
I work myself into such a tizzy
it’s hard to choose anything at all.
I suppose I could do all of the above.
But let’s be really really real—
isn’t it delightful to have so many choices?
Maybe I’ll just go write in my gratitude journal,
thankful to be asking these questions at all.
Hmmm…for some reason I keep hoping that these NaPoWriMo prompts will get easier, but they seem to be getting harder, perhaps because of what is happening in my external world. But anyway, here goes. Today’s prompt asked us to write a list of all of the identities with which we associate ourselves, and then divide that list in two more lists, one list of identities that make us feel powerful and another list of identities that make us feel vulnerable. Then we write a poem in which an identity from one list is speaking to, or contending with, or challenging an identity from the other list. What a head game. Luckily I’m always game to play in my head, so, let’s see what happens.
I wrote my list, and artist and critic were both there. I figure that this a great place to start.
Hey! Me here.
Who do you think you are
getting those art supplies out?
You aren’t any good
and no one cares what you
are trying to create.
Oh sweetie, there you go again.
Why do you think you need to be good?
This act of creation is just for you….
you don’t need to impress anyone else,
and especially yourself.
Drop the pressure and radiate your light.
Life is your work of art.
Let your genius shine.
You don’t have to try so hard, friend…
Just relax and let your genius shine.
Who would I be without my stories?
Just a woman, fingers dancing on keys,
sitting here, breathing, at peace.
My body danced this evening
and now it is spent.
My heart sang and laughed.
My hands painted and drew
and mothered and colored today.
Without my stories
this day was utter paradise.
Please Divine Spirit,
let me stay attuned to what is real,
that I may live in this one moment
grateful for what is.
Allowing my creativity to flow
without making a big deal about it…
No pressure, not trying to impress anyone,
just trying to save my own life
through color, texture, and the freedom
to bring my inner world outside
where it can dance, breathe,
and be painted into being.
I never knew that such simplicity
could yield salvation,
but here I sit feeling grateful
to have another day
to pick up my pen, my brush,
and remember the voice
that quietly speaks within me.
My heart was so touched by this…a creative mama encouraging her child’s deep imagination to flourish with wonderfully positive qualities, collaboration, trust, strength, sensitivity. What a beautiful world we live in!
I’ve been drawing and painting our daughter Myla for a long time. I was intimidated at first, but she quickly became my favorite subject. I was looking back at some of my artwork featuring her, and noticed how it’s changed as much as she has over the years. My first of her was this one, […]
via Little Dragon Warrior — busy mockingbird
Let us join hands and dance now,
though it be late and the light is fading;
music will be our guide.
When we listen with our hearts
we don’t need our eyes to see;
our differences melt away
when we join in camaraderie.
Let us away now to the enchanted wood
where the ancient oaks shelter us from the wind
and there we will dance and sing together
and when we are done
we will begin again.
It was an interesting idea for today’s NaPoWriMo prompt, write a poem inspired by art–known as ekphrasis– and the art form suggested was Medieval marginalia. I never knew those bored monks could be so bawdy. I chose a more PG image because that is more my speed.
Creativity without a goal–
the freedom of this.
To be a child again
able to easily tap into
this endless fount
Watching my daughter
I remember my own childhood
moments of creative bliss.
So grateful to have her here
of what still can be
when I can get out of my way
and simply enjoy this day
of alive, innocent creativity.