Character Intimacy

I had tried in The Cafe to create a kind of timeless, somewhat myth/folktale inspired atmosphere. Those of you who've read it will understand what I mean. And maybe I achieved that too much, as I was talking yesterday about it and received the feedback that anyone could have written it, it's not very personally about me. (well...it is and isn't) But I understand what this friend was getting at because I had started to feel the same about my new story...that I'm not close enough to the characters.

I feel like the pronoun use, as well as of proper names, holds them at arms length away from me. Which is not my intention, I want to be in these characters skin, in their thoughts and feelings.
I think I achieved this better in my scifi story about Mireille.

Hopefully some of you who've read both Mireille and The Cafe could chime in on this.

I think I've been , in the last several years, holding myself back in the fiction writing process. Not really letting all of me inform it for fear of making the people close to me uncomfortable when reading it. Or trying too hard to emulate a favorite author.
This is a good opportunity, now in my life, to try a new approach, a more true approach.

Turn on a dime

In the last three days, I think I was a little manic, or Carrie Fisher is, as she admits, catching.
I did read her latest book, Wishful Drinking, and really liked it a lot.
After Tuesday, having a turn around through a dream about a specific perception I'd been carrying around, I went on to pee in a cup on Wednesday for my annual physical exam. I then cried while doing the dishes on Thursday because I found out my cat has renal (kidney) disease (see #1 of my 25 Things list posted Feb 4th, below) - Thursday night is another story for some never other day....and today was just like a breath of fresh air.

There are joyful moments in the mundane chaos of life. I'm almost tempted to say care-free but that is not the right sentiment because I am full of care, for myself, my loved ones, the world at large. But today felt like a brand new day where chaos can subside and anything is possible.

I feel a calmness in the face of the unknown future that lays ahead of me, an exhilarating settling-in of accepting life as it is now...tomorrow may suck, but this moment is perfect just the way it is.

How do you spell or say a pictograph?

Isis, or rather Is.t - the closest approximation to heiroglyphs...the Coptic is Ese, I believe.
There have been numerous discussions, scholarly and othrewise about her and all the
similarities to other mother goddess persona. These are not what I am
concerned with in this moment. One of the things that intrigues about her
is her ability to wield magic. She resurrected Osiris.
She was called upon by numerous devotees to interceed with magic on
their behalf. I read somewhere just today (after numerous other inquiries)
that Egyptian religion began to be heavily influenced by her use of magic as
her cult grew, as it had not been for thousands of years prior.
A good book on the subject of her worship is by R.W. Witt Isis in the
Ancient World. Another good book that touches on her impact is
The Veil of Isis by the French philosopher, Pierre Hadot. Hadot's book
is not primarily about Isis, but rather about the conceptualization of Nature in philosophy
and science in the western world. I found it incredibly interesting (and yes I'm a huge thinking
geek sometimes) and it's influence will be found in the lastest story I'm presently working on,
as well as a piece of the goddess's own story.
I just loved this image I found too; she's co-mingled with Hathor here, the horned headdress, but
it will just have to do.

Cadbury creme eggs, untidy cat, and dreams, baby, dreams

1. I'm addicted to creme eggs, love the fake yolk centers, and that chocolate is the most desirable on the planet as far as massed produced goes...
2. My lovely, fair cat likes to drink water by licking off a paw she dunks in her water glass, which then also drips all over the floor.
3. I woke up from a dream this morning that at first glance was fairly disturbing. But then, after I gave myself some time and distance from it, I realized it was an ingenious way of my brain pointing out an invaluable lesson to me.
And how do you like that? My brain actually trying to help! I take it experience is either finally sinking in, or Pema Chodron's book is impacting me in ways I wasn't realizing....or as most things, probably both and a few more.

And I went back to work on My work today, which feels excellent. The pages are there, opened to where I'll continue putting the story together, as I add in more bits and pieces and then to take off wherever it will lead. I am excited by the characters, by the intent evident so far and am lately wondering why I don't put much of my poetry up anywhere. (Random I know but see what I am getting at with my brain?) The last post below being the current exception.

It's not on my feeble website, nor Facebook. Well correction, there is a prose poem of sorts on my website, but it's not that good. And I mean that in a "it's a gut feeling when a poem is good or not" kind of way. Surviving Quicksand wouldn't be a bad performance piece, but I have avoided performing poetry readings for a while since the only ones I know by heart are old ones.
It takes awhile for me to memorize. A terrible excuse I know. The not so terrible excuse is that I get bad stage fright every time, and that's alot since I used to do readings weekly.

So more poetry to come.

razzamatazz and kallamazoo

I'm having a hard time getting back to my work...the story is there, is waiting...it's hard to pick it up because it is all wound together in the same notebook with my recent ending and I am stuck in my own holding pattern, trying to feel these moments, trying to stay with my pain and not let it drive me crazy, just let it Be.

There is a reason why I try sometimes to keep creative and journal writings separate....it is still to close to read back over that.

Reading others' words, talking - but there is no substitute for time, and things don't get better with just words alone...

The House of the Law of the Heart

Live in the house of the Law of the Heart
Keep warm by the fire, the bitter cold out
Safe to the letter, down to your bones
Nothing gets better with just words alone

The basket is empty the table has chairs
Rhubarb, cherry, cheddar and kale
Seat to be offered, knuckle-down bones
Nothing gets better with just words alone

Out of the kitchen and into the fire
Law of the Heart is never a liar
Sealed and delivered, no broken bones
Nothing gets better with just words alone