I’ve been think a lot recently about the idea of safety. Specifically how powerful it is to turn to someone and say, “You make me feel safe.” To trust them fully. And at the same time how important it is to learn to how to make my own kind of safety. A deep breath. A lit candle. A good meal.
I was totally surprised when I started evaluating progress on my official 2016 writing /poetry goals. According to my mood related to writing in 2016, I believed I’d failed every goal I’d set. Turns out, I totally nailed it.
The Fast Company article says creative folks need three kinds of creative circles — a scene, a network and a community. No matter how you label your support system, I believe in what he has to say. I do think relationships balance out the solitary, internal work we’re called to do.
When I find a phrase, an image or line that shows me something new, I believe in transformation — of the moment, of the object, of the self. And when I put them together into a finished poem, the whole world starts to make sense.
So that’s a rocket. It’s here to “launch” me on my way to reaching my writing goals for this year. Yes, that’s right: I’ve started 2016 off with a really bad pun, and I’m not even sorry.
jill and i traveled an hour or so to lenox, massachusetts, to see marie read her wonderful poetry. she had the high noon spot today as part of berkshire wordfest, hosted by the mount, edith wharton’s house. it’s an annual festival, and though we were there only briefly, it’s clear they do a great job. and what a contrast in settings from yesterday: 80,000 people downtown, on my street, for lark fest. and today, this proper, quiet estate in the midst of the wilderness.
jill and i both refer to the place we grew up as “up north.” her “up north” is ticonderoga, new york; mine is lincoln, maine. the similarities are many: paper mills, mountains, lakes. i was teasing her that her “up north” wasn’t *really* “up north,” considering mine is up-norther-er than hers.