Yesterday my writing felt odd, awkward, out of place. So I picked up Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek and read some perspective-setting words and then filmed this.
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When your writing seems . . . weird.
Posted in Essays
Tagged artists, beautiful story, creative practice, Creative writing, Dog, supermodels, The Donald, writing, writing craft
Do you hear what I hear?
Our two dogs are of varying intelligence and thus responsiveness to our commands. One “off” moves the smart gal from my lap, while the oh-so-lovable-but-slow canine continues to warm my thighs until dumped to the ground.
Their barking has become annoying: yapYAPyapYAP until the source of inspiration either disappears from view (other dogs out for a walk, meandering cat, saucy squirrel) or has been thoroughly sniffed (friends who come to the door). Our lovely neighbors, cyclists who pedal up and down the Virginia mountains for dozens of miles, suggested using their “dazzer” to control the barking.
The Dazzer emits an unpleasant sound, audible only in the doggie range. One zap and the smart dog understood and now ceases barking promptly when told, “no bark.” The other dog continues to bark despite the command — and will do so until the Dazzer is used. Which of course is unfair to the dog that was already quiet.
And, as it turns out, also a bit unfair to my younger son, whose youthful ears register the Dazzer. “Don’t you hear that little squeak when you press the button, mom?”
No, I do not. I barely hear Engineer Hubby when he asks me to pass the cream for the coffee. I know I’m not hearing the whining about soup and sandwiches for dinner again, right?
So yet again I discover the very real limits of my (aging) human senses, and, all kidding aside, am momentarily quieted. I wasn’t in awe of the 13 y.o.’s hearing, but it was in the neighborhood (see I know nothing for a dog-taught lesson in humility). I was awe-struck last Sunday when, twenty yards into the woods, both dogs sniffed snuffled snorted snurkled the leaves — speckled with bird poop, huh, look at that, my dull human brain noted — and then both mutts looked straight up and above us turkey vultures were circling, settling on branches, all with their wide, whispery wings. I know they’re carrion feeders and their heads are weirdly bald-looking but still: they are awe-some.
Then I read about the the concept of rewilding — as articulated by George Monbiot in this interview in the fine magazine Orion. He notes that humans are perhaps the most domesticated of all animals, living out our days in relative comfort despite having been designed to survive in a world bloody in fang and claw. We do not often experience the heart-stopping awe that is ours when we wade into the world sans civilized expectations and protections.
I don’t disagree, and/but I when I pause to look at my now-almost-six-foot son, who started as a mere eight pounds; when I see my Grandfather’s wild hair atop my younger son’s head; when I notice EH’s eyes look like his father’s, then I am momentarily awed.
These small details are invisible in the scope of things (the new Cosmos illustrated this for me: I had no idea we (think) we know as much as we do about the universe. The Local Group?) We are, relatively speaking, so very very very tiny. Eensy-weensy. How awe-some is that?
As I near fifty years old* (fifty years! A microscopic pinhead of days in the universe!), I find it easier to remind myself to switch from the daily-annoyances-perspective to the holy-cow-isn’t-this-amazing-perspective, especially when the dogs are pointing out the limits of my nervous system or the scientists my lack of knowledge. (Full disclosure: my family will disagree that I *ever* switch out of annoyed mode, as I nag them nigh unto death about putting away dishes, clothes, shoes, homework, etcetera.)
NASA photo
But what a wonder! What a happenstance to be alive in this time (whenever it may be), in this place (wherever it may be), with this consciousness (however it may be limited by no-dog-nose capacities).
All I can do is write it down. Badly, baldly, awe-struck-ed-ly, make-up-words-ily. What a ride. Buckle up and look to the heavens and tell us what you see.
* This post dovetails nicely with WordPress’s weekly writing challenge, about “The Golden Years” at their site, The Daily Post
Posted in Essays
Tagged awe, Cosmos, creativity, Dog, DPchallenge, Family, George Monbiot, Orion Magazine, Rewilding, transformation, turkey vulture, writing
The Yuletide 100
My writing craft group and I agreed that during the holiday break we would jot notes about the holiday. At least 100 words or phrases to capture the essence of the season.
I’ve resisted the list concept for most of my writing years: all those “list my life” books at Barnes and Noble. Listographies for couples, for singles, for mothers and daughters. Barf. Like a list matters. Plus, is listography a word? (Not in my 1979 edition of the New World Dictionary! Oh, I feel so vindicated!) Regardless: making a list is just too easy! One must *suffer* for enlightenment!
You’d think I’d have learned by now that when my instinct is to sniff haughtily, a great Lesson is lurking. But no. I sniff away and it is only under duress — duress I PAY for in the form of a workshop or a book, or duress that is unavoidable (yes, I consider the holidays a time of duress) — that I grudgingly push open the creaky door of my Self to possibilities.
My writing group adapted a Priscilla Long list exercise from her book The Writer’s Portable Mentor, and here’s mine. Not only was it a valuable exercise that I’m Officially Adding to my Writerly Toolbox, it tells a wee story. Happy New Year!
- 12 y.o. has two teeth pulled after last day of school.
- 12 y.o. vomiting, 2 AM.
- 12 y.o. sick first day of vacation.
- Amazon shopping.
- 16 y.o.’s girlfriend over for supper, to make treats for neighbors.
- 12 y.o. rallies to deliver treats to neighbors.
- Xmas tree purchased day after mini ice storm.
- Ice inside heated home = water. Duh.
- Entire first floor washed by melted ice.
- Kids dub ice “christmas juice.”
- Xmas tree trunk too big for 70’s-era metal stand.
- Engineer hubby drags tree to deck for trunk detailing.
- Engineer hubby shaving trunk with pathetic little saw.
- Engineer hubby borrows Real Tools, updates Xmas wish list to include Real Tools.
- Tree tilts 15 degrees to the left
- To the right.
- More trunk shaving.
- Tree tilts 5 degrees to the right.
- Engineer hubby: I’m done. Kids: but the tree …
- CVS has one tree stand left.
- Tree top breaks off. No one cares
- Tree is vertical!
- Burned out Xmas lights.
- Xmas eve shopping at Dicks Sporting Goods: all Medium sized fleeces gone. Panicked call to Engineer Hubby re: 16 y.o.’s preferred basketball clothing. Does it matter so long as it’s in school colors of blue and yellow? Engineer hubby: you know there are different shades of blue. Me: Seriously?
- Two hours later: new fleeces acquired for all the men in the family. Restorative hot chocolate purchased for frazzled mama on way home.
- My dad and brother arrive; my brother tallest person in the house @ 6’2″.
- Tissue paper for wrapping.
- Cat on tissue paper.
- Curling ribbon.
- Cat claw stuck in my thigh after “playing” catch the ribbon
- Can only find one batch of gift tags. All gifts labeled with the same green disc.
- Dog treats laid out with Santa gifts on coffee table.
- Dog treats all gone.
- Dog barf Xmas eve at midnight.
- Six hours sleep.
- New bird feeders: one with copper roof glinting in the sun. Birds confused, pecking forlornly at deck railing.
- 16 y.o.: “This is great!” re: coupon book for movies, dinners out, “Dates” with parents.
- Bag of gluttony and regret: chocolates & electric toothbrushes
- Kids give me hot tea/cocoa coupons 🙂 I redeem immediately.
- Settlers of Catan.
- Multi-handed solitaire.
- Blokus.
- Goldfinch.
- Mini Poppers: pig, monster, penguin, monster.
- Dogs eating popper balls. You’d think they’d had enough stomach upset. You’d think wrong.
- 16 y.o. visits girlfriend on Xmas day: a first
- Panettone
- Holiday-blend coffee from Milwaukee’s Colectivo Coffee.
- Turkey breast.
- Turkey breast with spine intact.
- Turkey breast deboning YouTube video.
- Dull knives.
- Scissors.
- Brining on back deck.
- Cold sunshine.
- Walking dogs.
- New scarf.
- Stuffing with sausage.
- Cranberry sauce by my dad.
- 16 y.o.: mashed taters.
- Toasted pecans.
- Frozen crust.
- Cook’s Illustrated cookbook: brand new. Corn syrup on page 720 by 3 PM
- Dessert wine.
- Port.
- Sauerkraut crock.
- Nine cabbages.
- Dill borrowed from neighbor.
- Virgnia Tech pillowcase over sauerkraut crock.
- About Time with 12 y.o. & Engineer Hubby. 12 y.o.: “That makes you think about life.”
- The Dark Knight Rises: surprisingly good.
- Sherlock Holmes, season 1 marathon
- The Full Monty: even my dad laughs
- The Last Emperor: like taking vitamins
- The Santa Clause
- All is Lost. Yikes
- Listing all colors for brown with writer pal Andrea Badgley day after Xmas.
- Basketball tournament in Roanoke for 16 y.o. Massive losses ’til very last game.
- Sauerkraut smells a bit funky.
- Old friend visits after New Year’s
- Old friend’s dog encounters skunk in backyard.
- Friend’s dog rolls on rug, runs through house.
- Friend to PetSmart for enzymatic skunk cleaner
- Friend’s dog washed on back deck with skunk cleaner.
- Temperatures dropping.
- Friend’s dog confined to crate.
- Friend’s dog depressed. Our dogs confused.
- Entire house smells of skunk; food tastes like skunk.
- Apple-cider scented candle lit.
- Sauerkraut smell obliterated.
- Rug removed to patio.
- Clothing washed with de-skunker.
- Friend’s dog washed repeatedly next day.
- Dog smelling better. Released from crate confinement.
- Joyful frolicking.
- Friend returns home.
- 16 y.o. to youth orchestra. Cello, case and music all smell like skunk.
- Xmas tree to fire pit, rug to dumpster.
- Sauerkraut funk again discernible.
- Carpool buddy to 12 y.o. on first day back to school: your hair smells like skunk.
the Art of Practice 