A Few of My Favourite Things - On Writing

August - the anniversary month for this blog. The 28th is the actual date, so I guess I'll wait until then to properly commemorate. Heh heh.

I had a few things in mind for these August entries. However, after much thought, I've decided to place them on hold. Essentially, they had to do with particular journeys. Why mention them? Well, consider this a placeholder of sorts. I do hope to share them in this medium at the appropriate time.

In the meantime, here are a few of my favourite quotes and memes that have inspired me along the writing journey. Many quotes and writings and tips and so on and so forth, may be found in books, on the Internet... It never ends!!! It's very easy to spend more time reading all that, than actually writing. Of the myriad, it's not often that a quote touches me right here - resonating with my own feelings; echoing the rhythm of the lines (poetic and prose) in my blood. It helps to know that the treasure lies not only in the destination - which is subjective, really - but also (if not more so) in the journey. And what a journey this is turning out to be!

Okay, here goes:

"My aim is to put down on paper what I see and what I feel in the best and simplest way." 

- Ernest Hemingway

"Sometimes a book isn't a heartbreaking work of staggering genius. Sometimes it's the only story you knew how to tell."
- Tahereh Mafi

"Don’t cast sidelong glances, and compare yourself to others among your peers! (Writing is not a race. No one really “wins.” The satisfaction is in the effort, and rarely in the consequent rewards, if there are any.)" 

- Joyce Carol Oates

"Often when he was teaching me to write in Greek the Fox would say, “Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that is the whole art and joy of words." A glib saying. When the time comes to u at which u will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the centre of your soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you’ll not talk about joy of words." 

- C.S. Lewis

"Writing: a profession for introverts who want to tell you a story but don't want to make eye contact while doing it." 

- John Green

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

- Maya Angelou

"A thousand nations of the Persian empire will descend upon you! Our arrows will blot out the sun!" - Persian  "Then we will fight in the shade." - Stelios (300)

"You think your work is crappy, but it's not. Show it to someone. You're better than you think."
- Claudia (Moi) :-)

"S/O to those who keep getting back up; whose vulnerability has been mocked, but...meh; whose courage yells at adversity: #YouAndWhatArmy??!!"

- Claudia

"Blessed is the man that trusteth in the LORD, and whose hope the LORD is.

For he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, and that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and shall not see when heat cometh, but her leaf shall be green; and shall not be careful in the year of drought, neither shall cease from yielding fruit."

- Jeremiah 17:7-8, Bible (KJV)

Via @i_Author

Via @DeinaFurth

Via @AJAsh

Via @ShaunFrankson

Via @MyNextDance

Via @anilawhitney

Via @BSHMNetwork

Via Google

Via @Archnahr

And, a fav fav:

Via @Quotes4Writers

Claudia 

www.cyopro.com

www.twitter.com/cyopro

"It's Like That"...and more.

February's still here, so the poetry continues. :-) I'd like to share two poems tonight. The first is by one of my sisters, Durie. She's on Twitter as @MizDurie. Her blog, The Water IS Troubled (TWIST) features moving and inspirational pieces; pieces you will simply enjoy reading.

It's Like That is a poem that draws you in with its sharp imagery you can all but touch. And, by the time you wrap your fingers around it to press it to your bosom, it ends, leaving you with nothing but sighs, and a certain knowing. Here now, with Durie's permission, is:

It's Like That 

It’s like that.

That grey area of wonderment,

Expectation, and worry.

When my fingers tremble to write because

Nothing can do justice to the precious moment that exists

In memory –

Of that sweet conversation turned even sweeter.

When disappointments and heartaches and insecurities

Fade

Into the nothingness of the abyss of a time

That is perpetually the past.

It’s like that.

Like the smell of storm clouds,

The splash of rain that commingles tears

And drives the fears of darkness and lightning away.

But the storm’s coming.

And with breathless anticipation every drop

Becomes the priceless diamond of perfection and purity.

Clarity.

It’s like that.

When a heart loses rhythm in submission

To the other

And become one

Beat.

When even the dream of a whisper of a breath

Fulfills every desire for freedom

To be enslaved by the silk cords of –

Crimson red cords of –

It’s like that.

If only the inexplicable could become

A thing, to touch, to taste

To feel.

To feel again, and again, and again…

And fall aimlessly through clouds

And rain, and pain,

And hit love hard,

And then smile.

It’s like that.

(c) 2009

The second poem is not really a poem, per se. It is a provocative admonition that makes you squirm and smile in sweet surrender - all at once. Well, that's how I felt it. It's a quote by C.S. Lewis. I came across it a few days before Valentine's Day and I couldn't help but share it on my Twitter timeline. In a sense, it does read like poetry. There's a quote for that, isn't there? Yes. "Always be a poet, even in prose." - Charles Baudelaire :-)  Here is, To Love At All, an oft-quoted excerpt from Lewis' book, The Four Loves:

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.

And here, dear reader, is a pleasant surprise. A cartoon illustration of To Love At All. The cartoonist, Gavin, did a marvellous job with this, didn't he?

Claudia

www.cyopro.com

www.twitter.com/cyopro

"Dear God, I Really F'd Up!"

This needs to be said at the beginning. No. I have not lost it. And, no, I am not losing it. But, before I get into what brought me to that title, I'll share a few quotes that have made an impression on me.

"I don't do performance poetry, so the words matter." - Elka, poet 

"I may already be dead, just not typed." - Harold Crick, Stranger Than Fiction

"He wooed her with words and he won her. He had nothing but words to woo her." - Lorna Goodison, poet

"Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words." - C.S. Lewis

Words work. Use them. That's a belief I have long held. So much so, I started a blog in about 2004 under that title. But, I did not maintain it. It had not started "hurting bad enough" yet. I like expressing myself in writing. I like to read and widen my vocabulary. I like to meet upon new words and spend the next day working them into sentences. I have a Dictionary app on my phone and the web site is saved in my favourites. Of course, I do consult other sources, but, for a quick go to, it serves the purpose. I suppose it's every writer's or communicator's dream to use the right words at the right time. 

Ahh yes. I do have a love for words. Remember that scene in Patch Adams where the elderly woman had the fantasy about being immersed in a pool of spaghetti? That's me. Except, it's not spaghetti - or food of any kind. It's words. I have a fantasy about being immersed in a pool of words. How that would work, or look, exactly, I am not quite sure. Not thinking alphabet soupish, though. No. The words wouldn't be in a liquid. The words would be the liquid; have sufficient molecular density and create the buoyancy needed. And, every so often, I'd string just the right ones together to make the perfect sentence. Then, one perfect sentence after another...

I've experienced the discomfort and comfort of certain words and terms. Words intrigue me as they strut their denotative and connotative meanings. But, they do not scare me. I do understand that given different contexts such as cultural and social ones, the use of certain words - and the words themselves - may carry particular connotations, subliminal messages, subtexts, and the like. Certainly, if I am not around to explain why I used a particular word weighted with a generally-accepted meaning, it would be interpreted using that meaning. My decision not to use a particular word in a piece of writing, as much as I believe it would hit the nail on the head, stems from that consciousness: Would my use of the word signal a shift in conviction or belief? That sort of thing. Given my broughtupsy in a Christian home and as a result of my own Christian walk, there are words that I do not use. It's funny, really. Not funny haha but funny peculiar. The two things I am most passionate about - my walk with Christ, and my writing - have never had me conflicted. Perhaps that is because I see the one - the writing  - as a medium for the more-important other. What has caused some angst, though, is whether I have been brave enough to say what may be unpopular, but what I feel a conviction to say.

That brings me to the title. I love - as in, love - the fact that I can go to God about anything. I pray to Him about any and everything. The other day, someone hurt me. Bad. I went to God in tears. I was angry and I was sad. After weeks had passed, with nothing near forgiveness yet in my heart, I contacted that person. In short, I received what I referred to as a template apology. Y'know the kind that says stteo: "I'm sorry I offended you..." More time passed. I contacted again. This time, my language was stronger as I said how I really felt. I referred to the half-assed apology and went on about how what was done was unbelievable, especially given...everything! Then came the interruption, "I f'd up, and I'm sorry." Well, y'know, I cried. I had to pull into a parking spot - and I cried. Of course, my friends know I do not use that kind of language. But, I accepted it and, dare I say, appreciated the honesty of it very much. It touched me. The choice of word meant that he meant it. And, I knew that that was the sincere apology.

It came to me sometime after, that a person who comes to God desperately seeking His help; to be rescued by Him, and pleads, in brokenness, "Oh God, I f'd up, and I'm sorry," does not turn God off one bit. I believe that if God sees the heart - and He does - He does not recoil from the word, but draws that person closer because of the heart. I believe that, in time, in a new walk with Christ - and with the understanding of the social or cultural or whatever other -al connotation attached - the individual will come to express himself in other words. Yes, God is holy. And, I'm not saying we should all come telling God 'the f word' left right and centre. But, you get what I mean. Plus, English is just one language. People the world over pray to Him in hundreds of other languages. There are many other heartfelt taboo words and expressions in many other languages and He is afraid of none. Anyway, you catch my drift. 

I have a similar feeling about Christians who express their grief on losing a loved one. Years ago, a lady I knew lost her only son in a vehicular accident. It tore her up. Another lady, this one I knew to be a Christian, lost her son after someone shot him. She became angry with God. Grief-stricken, she questioned His goodness; how could He have taken her son? How could He have allowed this? I understand that some persons - including Christians - will say that that is not an appropriate reaction. But, I believe that God is not frightened by our grief. He can see it coming. And, surely, different persons handle grief in different ways. But, for someone who directs her anger to God, He must see it coming, doesn't He? He does not recoil from her harsh words, does He? I believe that as she turns to Him with tears streaming, nose snot running, chest heaving in sobs and hands flailing as she thumps His chest with "How could You?! How could You?!" that He leans in to her and puts His arm around her and, yes, maybe even cries with her. Then, as she weakens under the burden of grief, and becomes too drained to fight, He scoops her up in His arms and carries her.

I am thankful that God sees the heart. And, His ways and thoughts are higher than ours. Just sayin'.


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

Arise, shine.

Sometimes you read a piece of writing and it just sticks.  The piece of writing by Marianne Williamson I share toward the end of this post, has stuck with me ever since I first read it. Like many other great pieces, it was, for a while, incorrectly attributed to a famous person. Such is the case when the world finds it difficult to believe that profound work can come from a not-known or lesser-known human being. 

I did not have this piece in mind when I started this blog – a part of my Create Your Own Productions move – five years ago. Neither did I have in mind the fact that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr had delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech on August 28, 1963. As I thought about this anniversary piece, however, I knew it had to reiterate the foundational “Arise, shine” as Isaiah 60: 1-3 moved me in 2008. It was my kick-in-the-pants; my shot-in-the-arm; my it-has-started-hurting-bad-enough moment. And, that year, with my mother’s encouragement, “Why not create your own…?” and Usain Bolt and #TeamJamaica’s inspirational achievements in Bejing, I had to act. It took far more courage than I thought I had in me – I’d be open to public ridicule for poor writing, is what I thought – but I did it. I was on the verge of suffocating from too many words caught in my throat. I simply had to write – or suffocate.

In that moment, too, I grabbed hold of the support that was the truth of that passage:

Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the LORD is risen upon thee.

For, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people: but the LORD shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee.

And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising.

So, it was an elongated moment where many sources of inspiration came together. Looking back, had I not been stewing in a state of despair; feeling oh so forlorn, that gave way to seeking hope and strength and inspiration, I might not have made that one simple courageous step.

I imagine that many will look on and ask, “Sooo, ummm, where’s the fruit of your work?” Ummm, you’re reading it; make that, a piece of it. I am not about to give my résumé of pieces I’ve written; pieces I’m writing. Simply put, I feel happy – who would’ve thunk it? – that I am doing what I set out to do. Still desire to be published but, in the meantime, it is important to me to keep this date of the 8ths – 8^th; 18^th and 28^th for posting – and I have not broken that promise to myself.  And, of course, my out-of-the-public’s-eye writing goes on. 

One other piece of the fruit – and the sweeter part – is the intangible. (For, you can always print these posts. Just please remember to ask permission first. Feel free to link back to them, though.) Now and again I’ll get a comment from someone saying how much it touched/moved/inspired them; how much they appreciated it; how they experienced a lift in their spirit, and so on. Sigh. When you don’t know the difference you make… That right there is the juice and the succulence and the joy and the warmth of it that makes me feel humbled and blessed, that God would use me to do this. (And, yes, I was kinda thinking about millie mango when I wrote that. J)

Thank God – not a phrase, really – I thank God, that I am no longer suffocating. There are new media through which I write and, one of the things that keep me grounded; keep me home; keep me shielded; keep me unscathed from the cynical and the bitter and the sub-tweets and sub-posters and sub-texts, is the fact that I am honest in my writing. Some things get through, and I like that. I’d rather not have a skin so thick that the helpful criticism is kept out with the unkind. But, for the most part, I am at home and sheltered, in the honesty. Remember the bit I shared by C.S. Lewis the other day?

Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that’s the whole art and joy of words.

Yeah. So, I re-read and go, yes, that is what I wanted to say. (Except for that one time the other day when I skirted an issue for fear of being dragged into a brouhaha… But, let’s not revisit that, ok?) I honestly believe that, since people are people wherever you go, being honest from the depth of my heart on an issue will resonate with at least one other human being; will have relatability. My feelings have to be centered somewhere. And, it shows where, when I share them.

This gets its own paragraph: I don’t know why other writers write. But, one of the highlights of my writing is someone saying, “I know exactly what you mean. I can relate to that.” It is not necessarily in that order. They say it however they want, but, you know what I mean.

And, before I close this post, I thank you, all of you, who take the time to read these posts. Thank you, all of you, who take the time to comment on the content or simply to encourage me.  To those who’ve been there from the start – my mother, my youngest sis and other members of my birth family – thank you for your support. 

Continuing with the theme of shining in this anniversary month, it is my pleasure to share the following with you.  From her book, A Return to Love, this is Marianne’s piece, the excerpt popularly known as: Our Deepest Fear.  (And, no, I don’t know her like that, but I don’t think she’d mind.)

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Let's use it all up. Arise; shine!

Claudia

www.cyopro.com

www.twitter.com/cyopro