A Koan for a Spring-Like Day, 2018

As she hung the sheets on the line strung between the fence and the peach tree, a songbird landed on a branch above her, seemingly there to watch the middle-aged woman.

"Don't poop on my sheets!" the woman said.

"Tweet, trill, chirrup!" the bird sang.

"You're right. I can wash them again." And in that moment the woman knew she'd taken a giant step toward enlightenment. To celebrate, she threw the sheets to the ground, stomping and dancing on them as she sang at the top of her lungs a silly tune she'd learned as a child.

When she was at last exhausted and her sheets brown with dirt and green with grass stains, she looked up at the bird. It met her eyes, holding briefly on her gaze before flying off.

The woman gathered up the sheets and headed inside to wash them again. More enlightened or not, she knew the sheets were not going to wash themselves.

She was glad for the task.

# # #

Today's meditative writing eventually took the form of a koan. Or at least my attempt at one. I've been reading daily from The Hidden Lamp: Stories from Twenty-Five Centuries of Awakened Women, edited by Florence Caplow and Susan Moon (Wisdom Publications). I originally discovered the book and information about the authors via Natalie Goldberg's website listing of her 2018 Workshops. The three of them are hosting a weekend workshop I would dearly love to attend in September this year at the Upaya Institute and Zen Center in Sante Fe, New Mexico. While I probably won't be able to get away, I will continue to enjoy my daily dose of koans followed by the insights of modern-day women teachers. 

Meditative Drawing

Today's meditative writing session included a sketch assignment: Put down the book and sketch something you see now or everyday.

Using my reMarkable tablet, I drew our shower stall, complete with the shark sticker that our daughter created years ago. And dots of water droplets from our morning showers. 

Draw what you see/write what you see. Either way, we're painting a picture. Thanks to Natalie Goldberg for that lesson in her book Living Color: Painting, Writing, and the Bones of Seeing.   

POTUS-proof shower. Thanks, Sharkie!

Christmas without the ha$$le

For Christmas this year,
Our family has decided to
Exchange handmade gifts.

Spices neatly wrapped,
A cake freshly baked,
A poem, a picture, a whittled spoon.

It doesn't matter the form,
Only that we are together
Making memories and sharing love.

Soup

Soup has always
for me been a starter
to a meal,
not the meal itself.

Older now,
and a wee bit wiser,
I eat soup
as a complete meal.

This morning it is breakfast,
ham and artichoke hearts in
thinned Thanksgiving gravy,
the perfect starter to my day.

Discounting Time

Today I could unfurl my sails
and surf the net, lonely,
in and out of waves of storefronts
boasting 10 percent off this, 25 percent
off that, buy one/get one, or land a
free phone with a two-year contract.

Today only.

If only today I could open our front door
to the rush of friends and relatives who
blew in Thanksgiving afternoon; our
King Arthur table stretched to an oval
with five leaves that held all the
boisterous rollicking of the pop-up
party as we laughed over stories,
debated the politics of slavery, and
read aloud notes of gratitude penned
in green on beige paper hand cutouts.

Then only.

If stores could then only offer us 25 percent
more time together, instead of tempting us
with stuff to buy and give, that's a cyber
deal I could jump on and ride; instead of
these cyber Monday blues, today we might
again cook together, swap recipes, hike the
local trails with our canine friends, and play
the silly games we had planned to, but for
which time ran out before the night was done.

If only.

Keeping Up With

I'm not sure I can do this--
Write a novel.
And yet I know I can.

Pen to paper.
Fingers to keys.
Plod forward, trying to keep up with my characters.

Wait. What did he just say to her?
What would he say?
Who is that approaching?
And now a dog is in their lives?

The story fascinates the storyteller.
It better.
If not, it won't entertain anyone at all.

On writing a novel.

Daily meditation writing

after penning a portion

of Chapter Twelve

in my current novel,

Fermi's Redux. 

Happiness Found

I pray for help detaching from my ego
Asking that I no longer have an ego;
Let go of my ego becomes my new mantra.

I say it when I wake,
     When I take my first sip of coffee,
     When I shower,
     When I brush my teeth,
     When I drive.

Let go of my ego,
     Let go of my ego,
          Let go of my ego.

It becomes a rhythmic intonation
     Keeping time with the breaks in concrete
     Along the road beneath my tires.

Let go of my ego.

And all the while I also
Pray for help with this,
     As my heart fills with love,
     My mind and body relax,
     And I discover true peace.

For happiness springs from within.

Today's meditative writing was inspired by readings from

Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones 

and 

Doreen Virtue's Ten Messages Your Angels Want You to Know. 

A brazen attempt at blazon poetry

Reading Natalie Goldberg's books serve as my daily writing prompts. A couple days ago I read about Blazon poetry in her book The True Secret of Writing: Connecting Life with Language and naturally attempted my own. Goldberg suggested penning a list, an ode to something or someone you love. It's a fun exercise no matter what you think of my own scrawling, a snippet of which I am sharing here. Give it a whirl; you may find yourself addicted to the process!

A Blazon to Summer

Days of insomnia.

Light pools an immense lake.

Morning explodes in chirps.

Days linger; a lover remaining close.

Flowers a frock.

Grass slippers.

Moss socks.

Snake play toy.

Sun bath.

Lawn mower cicadas.

Crickets evening symphony.

Herons statue heralds.

Bees gossiping neighbors.

Dogs synchronized to the sun,

We sleep no more.

Penning the six-word memoir

This year I've plunged into a practice of daily meditative writing. Or mostly daily. I embarked on this new journey one day as I was cleaning off my bookshelves, leaving my adjunct professor years behind while welcoming my new life as a writer. And occasionally teaching artist, especially now that I've been added to the New Hampshire State Council on the Arts roster.

While weeding through my vast collection of books, setting aside those I was certain I'd no longer need, I removed Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. Later, sitting to read Pema Chodron and take some time to reflect and meditate, I noticed a book spine with the Shambhala Publications logo. Those who already know Goldberg's work and that of Chodron will know my instant excitement. I picked up the book, opened, and began reading. In that instant an entire new world of writing and meditating possibilities opened up to me.

I am onto a second book of Goldberg's now: The True Secret of Writing: Connecting Life with Language. In it yesterday I read about the six-word memoir.

Created at Canva.com.

Instantly intrigued, I grabbed my notebook, made grids, and wrote several. It's a fun word play that I used again today, penning: The bite of fresh ginger tea. It may not be revolutionary, but it was what I was thinking as I brewed green tea with fresh ginger for my husband this morning. I've not been a green tea aficionado, but have recently begun to develop a taste for it, so long as there is that sharp edge of fresh ginger root to spice up a warm cup or a glass of it cold.

As you can see from my graphic, I ended up expanding on the six-word concept until I had a handful of lines that together formed a memoir. It's a slice of who I am and who I'm becoming as I grow in my daily spiritual practice. I gladly share it with you, and invite you to try the six-word art form. I also recommend you consider launching your own daily meditative writing practice.