Journey of Words » Writing

Silence I (the beginning)

Eric — Tue, 01 Jun 2010 00:53:00 +0000

enter into something unknown
not realizing what It is going
to ask
or expect.
It sits quietly,
in dark corners
of the mind, hiding
behind shrouds of the soul

                    waiting
                    waiting to be approached
                    waiting to be embraced
                    waiting to inflict its power

It lies there in that Neverland

                    between
                    between sleep and wake
                    between conscious and unconscious
                    between sand and shore,

only exposing itself in
brief, unexpected places,
where It is allowed to release
and make known
uncomfortable intentions,
forcing thoughts
that are needed but unwanted.

                    play the toreador with these
                    uninvited thoughts
                    jumping, sidestepping
                    doing all that can be done
                    to avoid them
                    but,

unlike the bull they cannot
be destroyed, they can only be
ignored until the sword and cape
are put away, when the crowd’s roar
has passed,
the arena empty
It returns quietly
desirous of attention

                    the journey begins
                    only when,
                    in the emptiness,
                    Silence and Stillness
                    are allowed to be…

This post was written for the one and only best blog carnival around One Word at a Time Blog Carnival hosted by the lovely Bridget Chumbley

The Articulation of Eating

Eric — Mon, 31 May 2010 12:00:08 +0000

biting, tearing, ripping grinding,
chewing, gnashing, gnawing, mutilating,
mastication, swallowing,
traveling, sloshing, processing,
it all comes out in the end.

Image Courtesy of Phtotobucket

To Begin and to Begin Again

Eric — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 13:34:01 +0000

Why write? Why attempt to put words on a page? What is it that drives a person to such a task that feels so isolating? What right do I have to write?

That’s is what is being addressed over at High Calling Blogs currently. A new book club has begun. A few of the High Calling Bloggers (you can see a partial list below) are blogging their way through Julia Cameron’s The Right to Write.

For today’s post I am, for me taking a risk. I am posting the random writing that came out of reading through Cameron’s first chapter titled “Begin”. I set a goal of 500 words with not particular thought in mind. I wanted to put down on paper what was happening around me and within me. Thanks in advance for reading.

Here I sit in semi-darkness. Seven a.m. Thunder rolling across the sky above, rattling windows as the Chickadees, finches, tufted-titmice, song sparrows and the various other feathered friends that visit our yard each calling out their spring calls – some already going from feeder to nest to nourish the babies; others calling out, dancing, following instinctual mating rituals.

A pair of cardinals sits precariously on the feeder as the winds of the storm rock them back and forth. The male picks seed and feeds it to his mate who patiently sits next to him waiting for nourishment to be given to her.

I am writing with such randomness that someday when reread will offer, hopefully, a gem, a nugget, a spark of a word or phrase that will lead into something that sounds more coherent than the rambling I am putting down on paper right now.

I need to write. I can’t write. I want to write. I don’t know how to write. What am I thinking? Who out there in the world has any interest besides me in reading my diatribes? My attempts to put words together in some coherent form seem to fall on the empty page as the rain continues out side pelting the windows and sliding down the glass panes in little haphazard rivulets (similar to what I am writing now).

I am writing with such randomness that someday when reread will offer, hopefully, a gem, a nugget, a spark of a word or phrase that will lead into something that sounds more coherent than the rambling I am putting down on paper right now.

Son is up. The storm woke him up an hour earlier than he should be…thankfully Daughter can sleep through most anything and is in blissful four year old dreamland right now.

Son has decided that is it is time to make “breakfast” as only he can using all the materials that are available in the playroom kitchen.

It actually does amaze me that I am able to sit here and put words down while he banters, in a voice that’s too loud, about what he is cooking for me, mom, and sister.

He is a breath of joy in my life. He is a child who seems to know none of our hurts, fears, concerns. He doesn’t worry whether you like him or not. He has a joy to life that so many in our world need.

I believe more and more each day that this beautiful fifteen year old, green-eyed, towheaded, boy is not the one with special needs. It is the rest of the world with the special needs. It is the rest of us who have lost that childlike joy that Son still retains. It is the rest of us who can’t see beyond the cover, the stereotypes, the expectations we pile on each other. It is we, I believe, who are handicapped.

He has no such expectations.

Cameron says to just start at the beginning. Write where you are. Write what you are.

I am not a Billy Collins or a Dickinson, or an Ignatow, or a Frost, Whitman, Eliot, Hopkins, or Williams (or even a Young, Barkat, Coffey. Richards, Goodyear, or Moon). I am me. I can only write about what I see. There is no one else around who views the world in the same way as I.

So I begin. I write. I fill the page with a hope and a dream.

Please visit the following bloggers and enjoy their contributions to this endeavor (if you are participating please leave your link in the comments section and I will add you to the list):

Glynn’s The Right to Write: Beginnings

LL’s Let Yourself Write

Lyla’s The Art of Taking Dictation

Monica’s Book Club: The Right to Write

Louise’s An Automatic Response

Nancy’s Let’s Write

nancy’s ready…set

Marilyn’s Book Club

Erin’s Just Writing

Cassandra’s In the Quiet

Darlene’s How God Expects Us to Run

culimination anima

Eric — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 21:55:18 +0000

In light of the realization that it is now April which brings us to National Poetry Month AND add to the fact that I am now going on three weeks with no writing and fighting off whatever bug this is that keeps me coughing and sleeping a paltry two hours a night AND that I have had down time to go back and meander through one of my writing files I figured I would offer this piece from back in 2007 for your thoughts. (Hopefully I will be back to more regular writing these next few days…one more day with the cherubs and then spring break!)…

Enjoy

culmination anima
red leaves of ancient oaks
flutter restlessly in autumnal breezes
as the erubescent sun
reaches with florid arms
to embrace and kiss
the evening star

Sharing Equals Culture

Eric — Sat, 20 Dec 2008 03:15:21 +0000

Only artifacts that leave the solitude of their inventor’s studios and imaginations can move the horizons of possibility and become the raw material for more culture making. Until an artifact is shared it is not culture.¹

He goes on to quote Steve Jobs: “Real artists ship”

My interpretation: Eric needs to get on with things and start posting, submitting, sharing the writing he’s doing offline with the outside world.

Enough said.

Andy Crouch Culture-Making, pg. 40

What Did Shakespeare Eat?

Eric — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 02:12:05 +0000

If you ever needed to know what they were eating in the 16th. century or when humans began consuming milk for that next big historical novel you are working on, then you need to go here: Food Timeline: Food History and Historic Recipes. I haven’t gazed at the recipes yet but hey…Christmas break is coming soon…