"Sand in My Shorts"

The poetry continues.  Quite frankly, "It never ends!" (Over the Hedge)

I read The Haunting at the lit cafe on Sunday.  (As a "brawta" I did I Can Dream.)  As I read, I felt comfortable.  It was a delightful almost-seven minutes.  I'd like to do it again.  A small group had gathered at the Moonshine Cafe in Oakville. And, they kept their word :-)  Reading and listening to poetry inside that literary cafe drew the probability of my being a published poet that much closer.  It was...inspiring, y'know?  I know.  I use that word here a lot - for the same reason spelled out in the phrase that I also use here a lot: "Sometimes, you just need to be inspired."

The poem I'm about to share was written when I was 21.  Gonna be honest.  I was looking through this worn and torn book of poems, reading and re-reading and, I just found myself laughing out loud. For a few of them, I had to compose myself to continue. Of course I'm not laughing at the idea of my younger self in love. That couldn't be it...Nah!  I'll work on it.  I have a theory but, more anon.

Here now:

Sand in My Shorts

You took me from my dream

Into your reality.

Everything that I've ever hoped for

You handed to me

Under a star-spangled platter

Then, nothing else seemed to matter

But your sharing my fantasy

That dream which you had now

Realized.

And, in your eyes

I saw you doubting

Whether or not my love was mounting.

And I closed my eyes

And loved you

Hoping for no hurting retorts

While I had sand

In the folds of my shorts.

- Dnafcnatgada

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"I Can Dream"

Later this month I'm scheduled to read my poem, The Haunting, at a literary cafe, somewhere in the universe.  While publicly reading my poem is not a new thing for me, publicly reading my poem, after a twenty-plus-year hiatus, is. I have been assured that they won't bite; that they will be welcoming.  I take them at their word.

In the spirit of the resurrection - the quickening, if you will - of this dimension of my life, I shall be sharing a few poems this month.  Today's piece, written by me at 17-yo, is entitled:  I Can Dream.  Signing it with my name that's "only for the poetry" and, again, I'll try to resist the urge of my 40-something self to edit.

I Can Dream

Maybe you won't hold me tight

As often as I want you to.

Maybe you won't kiss my lips

My face, my neck

As I long for you to do.

Maybe you won't tell me that you love me

As often as every day

But, I can dream about

These things, and more,

While you are away.

I can dream that we're on

A moonlit beach

Somewhere in the dark

Or, that we're taking lovely pictures

By the river, in the park.

Or, better yet, we're holding hands

Walking toward the sunset.

And, we're laughing at a joke of yours

Walking toward the sunset.

But, these dreams are no more

Than what they are, just fantasies

And sometimes help to ease the pain

Of not tasting the realities.

They're things you can hold on to

And make them last much longer

Than realities that come and go,

Making your longing stronger.

-- Dnafcnatgada

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The Age of Creativity

This is the Age of Technology.  No argument there, right?  Like I said to my sis, @MizDurie, the other day, it's also the Age of Creativity.  I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who has had this thought.  You know how "original" thoughts go.  Just haven't met the other millions of people the world over who've had it/ said it / written it.  When I say "The Age of Creativity", I am not speaking as if from my own microcosm, oblivious to the mind-blowing creations and inventions that mankind has been bursting at the seams with since fig leaves doubled as underwear and outerwear.  No, instead, I'm shifting our focus to the creative possibilities and realities that the Age of Technology has brought with it, given its built-in opportunities.

It used to be that the creators and inventors whose products and services and artsy creations made it to the world stage, were relatively few and far apart.  Every single solitary person is creative in some way; some in more than one way. But, that way, or those ways, for most people, did not get to see the light of day; did not make it to the world's platform where it could be showcased and enjoyed and laughed with - and laughed at!

The Age of Technology has made it possible for many who were, before, bereft of such opportunities, to "do their thing"; to show it off for an audience comprising more than their immediate family and close friends.  In short, they have tapped the built-in opportunities in technology and have come out expressing who they are in their own creative way.  This is the Age in which the common man, woman, boy, girl, cat, dog (you get my drift) shines!

Consider for a few seconds the millions of YouTube videos that scream "Look at me!" as the performers broadcast everything from singing to ice-sculpting; busking to painting; showing cat love to breakdown over sloths.  Are more creations/productions taking place now because there is an online outlet? I believe so.  Some writers have thumbed their noses at traditional publishing and have now gone the way of eBooks; blogs; vlogs - anything that can fulfill the need for an outlet through which their creative juices, having flowed, can be shared in a certain space.

Many of us know how tightly we hold our creative works to our chests.  It takes guts and gusto to "put it out there" under the critiquing eye of the public.  So, whenever I'm drawn to a new creative piece on show, I usually (usually) appreciate the courage it took the creator to get it there.  I believe, however, that just the very frequency and volume of creative works being published; uploaded; broadcast, reduces the apprehension of possible rejection by that much.  After all, with so many people are doing it, if mine wipes out, it will be forgotten in the next minute.

I also think that that same frequency and volume sear, even by that much, our expectation for something that we might regard as "a quality production".  True, this would be subjective.  But, I'm sure quite a number of us have experienced inundation of offline and online product pushing - everybody has something to sell; to say; to sing; to do; to drive; to watch; to wear.  We are constantly bombarded by consumerism and by the creative.  But then, once in a while, there is something that stands out, different from the rest, resonating with something inside us.  It is beyond our seared expectation and it makes us sit up and take notice.  That, I imagine, is what most creators are going for.

The thing is, some try way too hard.  And, not all cases end well.  So, courage mightn't be short, but, common sense might be. Just this week, we read of the newly wed woman and her "trash the dress" photography session; of the man dressed like Bigfoot, only to be mowed down in the middle of a highway.  No need for me to get into how brutal some commenters can be behind a screen and pseudonym - even in cases like these.  You've read them.   What we find "amazing" though, perhaps, not entirely surprising, is that there are those who will continue to do things for cheap thrills; for shock and awe; to stand out;  to try to get their fifteen minutes of fame, while not applying common sense.

Thanks to smartphones and other personal devices, photographers, videographers and iReporters abound.  App creators, for example, appeal to users, who in turn create for other consumers/onlookers and so on and so forth.  We are all creators and consumers at one and the same time.

Speaking of personal devices, I've been using my PlayBook to capture what I call "gems" in my comings and goings.  I look forward to showcasing other folks' works; events and scenes that speak for themselves as they wow the beholders.   For example, I was happy to record and showcase the performance of  Turbo Street Funk, a busking band out of Toronto, the other day.  Also, grabbed some pics from the 2012 Sand Sculpting Competition in Bronte, Ontario.  (Pics below.)

We can - and we do.  And, there's a place to show it off.  Somewhere.

Peter Vogelaar's creation

Siggi Buhler's creation

Guy-Olivier Deveau's creation

Tanya Kastl's creation

Scott Herel's creation

Sandi Stirling's creation

Claudia
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Eagles Make Tough Decisions Too

Some of us have seen an eagle, in real life, at least once.  I had the pleasure of beholding the majestic soar of one of those magnificent birds quite recently. It was on a trip to Kenora, Ontario.  I took some time to do the scenic Lake of the Woods cruise on the M.S. Kenora at lunch time.  I had been snap-snapping away when,suddenly, someone brought to my attention an eagle in full flight.  In short order, it alighted at the top of a tree and then I lost sight of it as the boat passed by that island.  Funnily enough, I had not had a chance to grab a photo of it when I saw it.  However, as I reviewed my photos afterward, I was glad to see that I had unwittingly and inadvertently caught it in flight when I was busy snapping something else.

Stories about eagles, or references to eagles, have been a part of my life since I was a child.  One of my mom's favourite Bible passages is the last part of Isaiah 40.  The very last verse has an encouragement for those who wait on the Lord.  It says, "...they shall mount up with wings as eagles."  There is a picture of an eagle - wings in full span - at the top of the staircase in our family home. And, many of us have heard the adage, "You can't fly like an eagle if you hang with chickens!"  That, from the fact that you'll never see eagles travelling in flocks.  

Whenever I have significant life-changing moments...well, if we want to be technical, each moment is a "significant life-changing moment" as it brings its own choice to make. But, I don't want to be technical. :-) I'm talking about the big moments; the moments that you know herald a breakthrough or a major change in direction; the moments that say, "This is big!  Your life, as you've known it, has changed."  (What? Your significant moments don't talk?)  So, whenever I have those kinda moments I always think of myself as an eagle - soaring high.  Remember that card from a former co-worker I'd mentioned several posts ago? "She always knew she could fly...The question remained, how high."  Those sentiments fit right into my life.  My thoughts go as far as hoping that those who would try to cage this here eagle, would quickly understand that it is impossible to do so.  There is no point in resenting how high an eagle flies - flying higher than any other bird - because it's just what it does.  We have a Jamaican saying, "What is fi yuh, cyaan be un- fi yuh." It means, what is for you can't be for anyone else. I have experienced an abundance of God's blessings over the years - and my heart is ever thankful.  Yet, He still amazes me with the what and when, but, especially, the how.  Some I just never see coming!  He causes me to soar and He makes me strong.  And, I remain confident that He will remain faithful.   I need strength from Him.  After all, even eagles have tough decisions to make.

One of the less popular stories I've read about the eagle came by way of an email years ago:

The eagle has the longest life-span of its species - up to 70 years.  But, to reach this age, the eagle must make a hard decision - in its 40s.  The long and flexible talons can no longer grab and hold on to its prey; the long and sharp beak becomes bent.  Its old-aged and heavy wings, due to their thick feathers, become stuck to its chest and make it difficult to fly.  The eagle is then left with only two options: die or go through a painful process of change which lasts 150 days.  The process requires that the eagle fly to a mountain top and sit on its nest.  There, the eagle knocks its beak against a rock until it plucks it out.  After plucking it out, the eagle will wait for a new beak to grow back and then it will pluck out its talons.  When new talons grow back, the eagle starts plucking its old-aged feathers.  After five months, the eagle takes its flight of rebirth and lives for about 30 more years.

Hmmm.

There it is!  Right...there.

Zooming by on Lake of the Woods as we cruise on the M.S. Kenora

Claudia 

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"Leap and Annette will appear!"

I've mentioned in this space, more than a few times, that I love Monk.  Yes, the television series that came to an end...was it last year?  I watch the DVDs all the time so, for me, it's still on.  Gonna have to Google it.  (Has anyone ever said, I'm gonna "Bing it"?  Anyone?)  The year when it last aired is all a blur - pretty much like the final scenes on the tele as I watched through tears.  Yep.  I cried when Monk ended.  Bawled.  Ok.  Cried and sobbed.  I was heart-broken that there would be no more new experiences to go through with him, his quirks, his persnicketiness and his sheer brilliance.  The creator (Andy Breckman) and writers were gooood.  Tony Shalhoub was impeccably stellar as he headed a great cast.  I was a tad miffed when Bitty Schram was replaced...wait.  Where am I going with this?  This is not even about Monk!  I really want to get to one line - ONE - from one of the episodes. One.  But, it's kinda like that when I start talking about Monk.  Ahhhhhh.

Anywaaaaay, in one of the episodes, "Mr. Monk, Private Eye", Monk's assistant, Natalie, forces him and opens up a Private Investigation office.  Monk is not amused. He doesn't think they will do well.  Natalie encourages him, telling him that her "Grandpa Neville used to say, "Leap, and a net will appear!""  Monk asks, "Who's Annette?"  Later on, she has reason to ask him whether he can swim.  He tells her, "I took a correspondence course.  They sent me a certificate."   Well, toward the end of the episode, as he tries to escape "the guy" by jumping overboard from a speeding boat, he consults the wallet-sized card with swimming tips, and repeats the mantra, before chucking off into the blue.

Leap and a net will appear. 

I realize that there is a little similarity in tone between this post and the ending of my previous post.  But, I really wanted to expound on this idea here.  The month of August - in by-gone years so unrecognized, so under-the-radar - has become a special one for me.  It marks the anniversary of the start of this blog.  I was inspired by my mom - I needed quite a bit of encouragement that year.  To a large extent, I was also inspired by Usain Bolt and his sizzling 9.69s run to win the Men's 100M in the Olympics in Beijing in 2008.  It was a shot-in-the-arm to poop or get off the pot.  For a while, I was scared to death about writing for public viewing/criticism.  But, the fear of NOT writing; the horror and suffocation I felt in not having an outlet to publish, beat the crap out of the fear of criticism or ridicule.  It was write or suffocate.  So, even though I had not yet - and, up to this point, still have not - published a book (one of my dreams), I took the leap and began publishing in cyberspace.  I set up a personal schedule of posting three times per month: the 8th, the 18th and the 28th.  I keep to it, even if it means hitting "publish" at 11:58PM, because, well, I simply must.  "Serious writers write, inspired or not.  Over time they discover that routine is a better friend to them than inspiration." (Keyes)

The net appeared.

Whaddya know?  I didn't die.  I didn't sink.  I didn't fail.  Instead, I was caught up in the bouyancy of sheer pleasure and delight; the kind brought on by making a creative adventure of that which you know is yours to do.

I'm big on being inspired (even if, for the writing, routine is regarded as a better friend).  For, inspiration is not just applicable to writing or other creative work.  It's applicable to life; how we live. And, I firmly believe that sometimes, you just need to be inspired to get up and do what is yours to do!  I'm occasionally reminded of a few lines from "8 Mile" starring Eminem (you heard me): "So here I go it's my shot/ Feet fail me not/ This may be the only opportunity that I got."  Then, "You better lose yourself in the music, the moment/ You own it, you better never let it go/ You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow/ This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo."   (No, I didn't "Bing it".)

The athletes are at it again in the XXX Olympiad in London.  This time around, Usain Bolt delivered a "scorching" 9.63s in the Men's 100M (as one paper reported it), setting a new OR.  Olympic Games newcomer, Yohan Blake, did Jamaica proud in 9.75s.  Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce won the Women's100M in 10.75s.  Asafa Powell - the man who started this round of Jamaica's track domination - and Veronica Campbell-Brown made their presence felt, too.  Indeed, most times, you only get one shot!

 Now, guess we just need to figure out the other part of the duo.  We've heard of "Annette".  But, as my sis asked the other day when I used the same encouragement on her, "Who is "Leap", again?"  LOL!



Claudia
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"Can I get up now?"

Several months ago, my sister called to share a conversation she had just had with her daughter - my niece, then 3.5yo.  They had been going through one of the potty routines and, apparently, my niece was getting tired of just sitting there.  She said to her mother, "Mommy, I want to get up."  Her mother told her to wait a bit longer.  Not even a minute had passed before she repeated her request, "Mommy, I want to get up."  Her mother's response was the same.  My sister said, without missing a beat, my niece closed her eyes and said, "Lord? Can I get up now?" This was followed by a deeper-voiced "Yes. You can!"  Then, opening her eyes and back to her normal voice: "Mommy? The Lord said I can get up now!"  My sister promptly got her up, trying all the while to hide her chuckling.

There are some quips that make me smile, no matter what.  That is one of them.  Beyond the laughter, of course, it caused me to think.  Every so often I wish to by pass traditions and rules and conventions that are not in sync with my creativity.  Or, simply, not in sync with what I want.  Me. Me. Me.  I want this; I want that.  But, for one reason or another, it's too this; it's too that.  And,  I just wanna go, "Get out of my way.  I'll make up my own rules in order to get what I want, thank you very much!"

Irrespective of age, that's so...so human, isn't it? Always that something inside seeking a way to get what we want.  So basic; so simple; so true.  It makes me wonder why we follow conventions and what not, so slavishly. In large part, I imagine, it's because we understand our role in maintaining a civilized society.  In small part, we probably don't want to rock the boat; upset the status quo.  Hmm.  I read a quote the other day that said stteo: If we keep doing the ordinary, we shouldn't expect the unusual.

Good for you for having the courage to leap from the known to the unknown; to follow your heart; to realize your dreams.  Good for us. :-)


Claudia
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"Go, Kiki! Go!"

My siblings, my niece, and I, had just got to the car in the underground parking garage. A couple of us went to one side of the car, and the others waited on the other side for the familiar “chirp! chirp!” disarming sound. Once I disarmed the alarm, I held my niece’s hand and led her to the back door. I opened the door for her and was about to lift her up and secure her in the car seat when she said, “No. I want to do it by myself!” She had recently celebrated…make that, we had recently celebrated her second birthday, and she was all Miss-Independent-up-in-here.

While my sis and I waited, she leaned her torso against the floor of the car, by the edge.  (What's that part called, anyway?  I could Google it, but, where's the fun in that?)  She placed her left elbow, then forearm, on the floor of the car as far in as she could reach, then paused for a second as if contemplating her next move. She then held on to the seat with her right hand and raised her right knee – her left leg was still sticking out –  as she tried with all her might to climb in.   My 2-yo niece then made a little grunt "mmh!" and followed that up with: “Go, Kiki! Go! Go, Kiki! Go!” This moment of self-motivation and inspiration came as such a surprise, it knocked us over! We got in quite a bit of laughter before we went to the poignant message within. Of course, she made it! She accomplished the feat, on her own, and, cheered herself on – to boot!

After we secured her in her car seat, we had to talk about the big lesson we had just witnessed from that little girl. And, every time I remember it, it motivates me – sometimes a lot, sometimes just enough.

I could wax on about how sometimes we need to cheer our own selves on; how at times it might feel as if there’s no one else in our corner and so we just need to chant our self-cheer out loud to hear it in our own voice; how a bit of self-cheer would likely motivate us to finish what we’ve started, especially when we allow ourselves to venture into “what’s the point?” territory.  I could, but, there’s no need, is there?

Now, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. And, I seriously doubt whether you’ll want to knock it after trying it. If you don’t already have one, give yourself a nice two-syllable affectionate name. (You could work in a three-syllable one if you fill in the half-beat. Yes, I’m serious.) Voilà!!! Next time you need a picker-upper, start your chant already:

“Go [your name]! Go! Go [your name]! Go!”



Claudia
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