Balanced On the Edge

Southern Snow

Everyone loves to make fun of how the South shuts down after just a few inches of snow, but believe me, you don’t want drivers like me on the road when there’s slush and ice. I’m the first to admit I would be drifting all over the place.

Schools have cancelled classes, which means most parents are in despair from cabin fever. But my son and Film Critic (a.k.a. my husband) are “stuck” in Chicago at a four star hotel near Lakeshore Drive. There’s about four inches of snow, but the city of big shoulders can handle that kind of dusting.

I’ve spent my free time watching Mad Men, knitting, walking the dogs, fine tuning my syllabus, and checking Facebook status updates (most of which are either complaints, boasts, or rants. No offense.)

There’s nothing like being snowed in and alone with the dogs to make me realize that human contact rates much higher than social networking. The former is a soufflé, the latter a thin broth.

And I haven’t done a lick of poetry writing. I do have an idea for a poem, but I’ve let myself give in to the suspended reality of the snow days.

January 11, 2011

snow days
Cowls Can be Worn as Outlandish Turbans

A Raspberry red cowl I knitted is at once an ear muff, a cozy scarf, and a doughnut-shaped turban. Reg barks at me when I slide the cowl over my glasses and wear it as If I were a sort of contemporary guru. I wore it today when I tried on a deep purple lipstick.

January 10, 2011
A List Turns Into a Funky Sestina

On the Monday after Christmas, Big Tent Poetry proposed a list poem for their next prompt, and Carolee suggested we try a little irreverence in the piece. She’s unconventional that way, and I like her for it.

So, I first did a focused free-write on the stuff that’s under my bed, but without actually getting down on my knees to look. What came out of the free-write is a sestina I’ve now been tweaking since before New Year Eve! It’s called “While the Dogs Nap on my Bed.” I start by listing real stuff I have left or stored under the bed, but since I had to repeat the end words, strange things happened. I ended up cutting a part I will try to use elsewhere, about an imaginary woman named Agnes who lives under my bed.

Thanks Big Tent Poetry! I’ll let you know if there are still publishers out there who will publish a sestina or two.

January 5, 2011
An Artist Needs Compassion

A staple gun, a dowel, wood glue, nails, a long handled wrench, a hammer, barbed wire clipped from an abandoned shed, a pencil, a Sharpie, a saw, tools he has strewn on a lace table cloth.

He wears a beanie to keep his long hair out of his eyes. He sings in a loud voice while he works. My son is building a tripod where he will hang a clay head he has sculpted. Last night I dreamed about my friend whose son died in his sleep when he was 17. A true story. Freeboarder graduates from high school in May.

He started a new painting tonight. He asked if Aurelia could stay with us because she’s sleeping in her car, and I said she could, even though I’d rather not have her here. He’s teaching me to sand my sharp edges.

January 4, 2011

a river with stones, art, micro essays
Late Afternoon Walk in January

My face slants toward the afternoon sun, as if I were a plant kept too long in a dark corner. Pine needles on the ground give off the smell of the sun’s warmth. Two hawks circle above the evergreens, in the open sky. I’m greedy for sunlight. Today I could survive on light alone.

January 2, 2011

winter sunlight, winter walk
Watching Night Fall

Watching Night Fall on New Year’s Day

The sun sets like a dull penny, day’s final final push against the rain. A pot simmers, black-eyed peas and greens, and the savory smells of good luck and money fill the house. The Christmas tree in the neighbor’s window lights up. It was a quiet day. I blame my tears on the rain. Amber lamp light, reflected in the glass, soothes me.

January 1, 2011

black-eyed peas, greens, Rain
Lazy Morning Turns Into Afternoon

The holiday guests have moved on–Ballet Lady (a.k.a. my mother-in-law) has gone back to Florida, and my sister and her daughter have left to visit other relatives.

My morning began at 11:30, and now, an hour later, I’m drinking coffee and watching the dogs destroy Santa. It’s fine by me. Santa gave himself in effigy to the dogs, and they’re only doing what comes naturally to them.

December 29, 2010

holidays, loafing, week between christmas and new year’s
Icicle Stones

We walked around the outdoor mall today with my five-year-old niece. Since I have two boys, I rarely get to shop at frou-frou places like Justice, a store that sells frilly skirts, lacy T-shirts, ribbons, and, as my niece pointed out, bras for teenagers!

Shopping holds little allure for me, but it was fun to see my niece so thrilled to be in a big girl store.

I bought her a lamb called “Wooly” and a collection of glitter bath sprays that smell like cup cakes and cotton candy. Yum!

My sister, an artist, pointed out the icicles in the fountain, which is shaped like an octagon.

The blue and white ice in the afternoon light makes me think of hope and fresh life. (River of Stones, December 28)

December 28, 2010
Stones Gathering Moss

Red’s warm head rests
On my foot
As we loll in bed
At two on a winter day.

December 27, 2010

a river of stones, Laziness, Red
Yoga Nidra Revisited

I wrote the passage below about two years ago, and I can’t help but think how far removed I am from the feelings of peace I was starting to feel at that time. When I stopped teaching high school I started meditating and practicing yoga every day, but I’ve let the practice fall off. I still practice yoga and meditate, but I’m not immersed like I was. The mechanical, concrete world has taken over again. Which is not to say I can’t return to those feelings of homeostasis, I’m just admitting I’m no ideal yogini.

Yoga Nidra

During Yoga Nidra, we consciously enter the hypnogogic state, the borderland between waking and sleeping. By learning to enter this state while fully aware, we develop better communication between the waking mind and the dream mind. Creativity flows freely during this prolonged hypnogogic rest.

Samskaras are imprints left on the mind from past experiences. Since many of our imprints are stored in the mind in the form of symbols, we can learn to awaken these imprints by meditating on different archetypal symbols while in a relaxed state.

By listening to guided imagery in Yoga Nidra, we can recall our past experiences. Some of the images evoke a personal, specific memory in us, while others are broader and more symbolic.

The process of visualization in Yoga Nidra enables us to purge these samskaras from the mind, thus purifying the layers of our consciousness, which is necessary before real progress in yoga is possible. Swami Satyananda Saraswati, Yoga Nidra, pg. 46

Some of the results of continued practice of Yoga Nidra are deep relaxation, bliss, a vivid dream life, and dreams that are more archetypal and even spiritual in nature.

Here’s a sample Yoga Nidra script by Xenia Splawinski

December 22, 2010