Saturday, February 9, 2019

A day with Nacho

Another day, another hike sacred
mountain, companions, paintings,
space, symbols,                          caverns
hiding places

bright yellow blossoms, lime
petite white,  orange, scents
around each corner,                       surprise
my attention

changing light,the other side
of the mountain, a breath,
hike a little                              higher
the view, breathe

nopale fields, a village,
an ancient 16th century church
a path down                                zocalo
to food

a market, fresh fruit, again
nino bananas, tangerines,
savoured, while                      we walk
towards, tlacoyos

a taxi, same price
as combi he tells Nacho,
our familia                                      amigo
companero

homeward bound, around
mountains, through
small towns                             strolling
earthquake damaged church

next ride a combi but
first I am looking for ice cream
Nacho says, our eyes                        search
for a sign, helados

the combi riding student practises
his English “you are from?”  my life
enhanced by  his                                      dreams
of snow and snowboards

a market, mangos,
mint for mojitos, avocados
a pastelleria, three sweet               samples
to test, join our travels

we have arrived back home,
in Amatlan,  climb
cobblestone                                             animals
                                                                        welcome home.


gkn Feb. 2019



Friday, February 1, 2019

Feb. 1 in Amatlan

"Dawning knowledge, inner flame, heartfelt daring silent name,
vast expansion, focused deep, centred living Now!"

Another day has arrived in Amatlan,  I slept well last night.
Once again acoss the valley and over the mountains, the animals, the church bells,
the loud speakers, the sounds of village life greet us.
Tea and reading with my beloveds, a quiet day to reflect to be here in this place.
Our wonderful hosts are off for the day.   I want to write about this place.

I want to write about this sacred space.
I am overcome again
and again by the need to simply be
to bask in the mountain's energy.

It is difficult for me to slow down enough

 to not pick up pen and ponder, what shall I write,
how can I explain it,  what shall l say,
and I remember Billy Collins ( the US poet) saying I sit
and stare for 23 hours a day
for one hour I write
( at least that is what I remember him saying.)

It is difficult for me to slow down enough

for  words to flow over me,
to enter me, refreshing, recalibrating
to be shared sparsely,   to be held as life energy,

to live into daily
challenge and delight,

It is difficult for me to slow down enough

Another day has arrived in Amatlan.

gkn Feb. 1, 2019

Sunday, January 20, 2019

Memories

with deep gratitude to Mary Oliver

poetry fills my inbox these days,

offering me gentle reminders of when
i first read wild geese or calling me to
notice the poster that hangs above
my desk, a gift in the days of
trying to remember
all the people who shared
with me the question of what I wanted to do
with my one wild and precious life.
and gave me a copies of
a summer day
and there were those who
supported  me as I strove to  live my life
to silence those voices that kept 
shouting their bad advice  until finally
i could save the only life, i (you)  could.
those who gifted me
with books, filled with stories i knew
that i wanted to know, stories of Devotion
of Dream Work  of oh so many reasons
to wake early.

But most of all I am reminded of

the day, that we were
biking through the rain, water washing our
pants and our wheels in Provincetown,

and we saw her

our poet, our hero

with her yellow raincoat and rain hat
laughing with us in the puddles,

Now  ....

I can hear you  ask, did you really see her?
and I say to you every morning the world is 
created...if it is your nature to be 
happy, you will swim away along the soft trails
...your imagination alighting everywhere. 


gkn January 2019

with quotes from Mary Oliver's poems ( Wild Geese, A Summer Day, The Journey,
                              Morning Poem)  as well as some of her book titles. 


Saturday, January 19, 2019

From memories to paper and spine; next steps with my memoir

If you are reading these words,  you know or have the potential of knowing that I have been working on a memoir.   In December I sent another final draft to my editor, my wonderful, helpful, encouraging, supportive editor.

Then I took a deep breath, and another deep breath and you are right, another deep breath, and thought about who I wanted to read this piece of my soul.

Then I thought of who I did not want to read or critique or comment on my soul.  Then I took a breath and decided to have a great celebration of the holidays, and I did.  I visited many of my aunts, and did not think, too much,  about what they would think if they read my soul.

Yesterday I met with my editor, you know the one, the supportive, encouraging, wonderful editor.  The one who believes in my work,  who thinks it is important work, who wants this work to get out in the world.

If you are reading these words you have the potential to have been at a reading of some of my memoir stories,  you may have read a draft or supported me in my beginning, my middle or ... you might have been vocal in your support all the way along.  You might be one of the people who has asked how is it going?  You might have told me to keep writing.  You might have joined my editor in believing in the importance of my work.  Perhaps you have read my blogs,  commented or not, perhaps this is the first time you are reading anything I have written.

No matter what your role has been  I am asking again for your help, for your support in finding the publisher to get this piece of work to the audience that would most benefit from it.

Here are a couple exerts from my most recent final draft

Saved by Love: An Incomplete Memoir

. ..  I was in the woods.  It was filled with life.   The old hollow tree, a home I did not mind sharing during my childhood, was a sacred haven. Buttercups, trilliums and jack in the pulpits, some of whom I was certain were janes, were my companions as I explored.  Sometimes I was lucky and saw the owl, which on other days I only heard or imagined... " pg. 56

"Melanie calls me from her home at the Leaven Center.
I ask,  `Where is God?’  I say I do not believe anymore.
I say it hurts too much to believe.
She is quiet. She is calm. 
 
All those casseroles left in your freezer,   the rides to the hospital,  all the flowers, the cottages that you go to vacation at, the lunches, the offers to sit with Bonnie, to stay with me or my girls or take them to movies or skiing or…
 
"God" she says "is in all of those."   pg. 79



With much gratitude to each of you, who have read this post so far, I now bring my request.   If you know a publisher, or know someone who knows a publisher that you think would be interested in this work.   Please let me know.     

As I  learn about the world of publishing,   I am realizing it just as in the rest of life it is all about community and connection.   I look forward to your advice and assistance.  

gkn January 2019