Nickels, dimes and quarters
sit at the bottom
of purses, pockets and
under couch cushions
~ forgotten treasure to be unearthed
Intention is like that
in moments, hours or days
left to sit at the bottom of life
or on the edge of my desk
~ forgotten treasure to be rewritten.
“Time is the coin of our life. You spend it.
Do not allow others to spend it for you.”
~ Carl Sandburg
Losing Count
Each distraction seems to have real value……
There really are only two issues:
- timing
- hurry up and get it done.
No - hmmm - three things - the third: ‘I need a break’
that one doesn’t hold water. I haven’t even started yet.
#4 - I need to change positions, so I’ll go and blanch the beans
Of course #5 is pretty important -
the phone rang and it must be answered,
but while I’m on the phone (it’s pretty smart) as well as messages - there’s a new photo on there and my texts: it could be the tax office. But it actually looks like a spam so I’ll make a note to call them to see……
Keep my pen to the page - author Natalie Goldberg’s direction ~
but how does that happen when I lift my eyes to stare out the window
Leaving only a blot or a squiggly line on the page
Did you hear that noise?
Probably nothing
- but you never know.
It could be suspicious or just the mailman
I’d better check.
The distractions of my life are like
the pilling on my old polyester afghan ~
each little pill must be removed right away -
even if most of them have been there for years.
Bathroom breaks are important - sometimes with great urgency
I’ll just clean the sink and sweep the floor while I’m there,
Then there’s the cat who demands my attention
Did I mention sitting down to write
the story or poem or essay that was playing
jumping around in my head
while I was distracted by everything else?
When will it become my important distraction?
“If we let ourselves, we shall always be waiting for some distraction or other to end before we can really get down to our work.”
~ C.S.Lewis
In Defense of Distractions
I sit and I stare
Out the window
At the screen
Across the room
I’m stiff and restless
The floor needs sweeping
I hear the mailman
The dishwasher needs emptying
I need to think
I know what I want to say
It’s time to feed the cat
Get up and rearrange
I look around me.
Shake my shoulders
I feel the chaos around me
Chaos of my own making
My legs want to move
My arms are tired from being still
I know what I want to say
But I need something besides my pen
Drifting through ordering
chaos into order - my mind quiets
disordered words surround me ~
returning to the page, I write.
“Art has to do with the arrest of attention in the midst of distraction.”
~ Saul Bellow
The theme for this month is Intention -
Not a big word
Not a small word
Not even a hard to pronounce word
yet a struggle nonetheless.
Sits in front of me
~ solid as a rock
never wishing to go anywhere
actually unable to even wish
not even waiting - just sitting.
Maybe, intention is more
like these rabbits
~ huddled on the cold snow
trying to find the warmth of the sun
ears up, listening for any hint of danger.
Or maybe, intention is
a wanting inside of me to let my inner child
come out to play
to create just for fun,
to write about my passions.
Like the rock
I need to pick it up,
keep it close
a reminder that it is time
~ time to play ~ right in the middle of things.
(I'll leave the rabbits alone - they're too skittish)
“Name your intention.”
~ Patti Digh, What I Wish for You:
Simple Wisdom for a Happy Life
Review, Revision, Edit and Update
My revision in the second last paragraph related to dialogue which I don't usually have to alter. I don't even like to, but felt that Martha was not really being clear with her husband James. On second thought, regular dialogue is not always clear. In this short story there was no room for James to ask for clarity. So, were my revisions necessary or was I just fiddling?
Busy Work and Pussy Willows
Never ending puttering or busy work……Martha shook her head. “I just can’t seem to stop. Trip myself up every single time.” She had planned to have a wedding reception for Miss Em and Dr. Jeremy when they returned from their elopement. “No, I did not go through with my plan. I didn’t even make a plan. What on earth should I do now?! Quite full of myself, I told everyone we’d have a wedding reception.” Martha turned the heat on under the tea kettle. “Let’s see. If I were to start now, where would I start?’ Scrabbling through the cupboard drawer that served as a desk drawer, she pulled out paper and pencil. Putting them in her apron’s pocket, she picked up her tea things and took them to the table. Setting everything in front of her - notebook, pencil, teacup and teapot - she poured a cup of tea. “Oh goodness, I forgot the cookies.” Pushing back from the table she returned to the counter. Before getting her cookie jar, Martha finished tidying up the cupboard. “I’ll just get these things put away while I’m here. Oh, goodness. James never wipes the cupboard when he’s done. Such a neat and tidy man, except when it comes putting his breakfast things away. Now, what was I doing? Oh, the wedding reception.” She folded the tea towel and hung it up carefully. “Now. Who - what - when - and where. Well, I know where. It will be out here. That’s easy, but should it be here at the cottage or should it be over at the estate? I’ll have to ask James what he thinks.”
After an hour, the tea pot was empty, the cookie jar was not quite empty and Martha’s list was not as organized as she had wanted it. “Martha Haverstock-Digby! Can you not make a simple decision to make a list! If it was something that someone else needed, you’d have it organized in - what’s that Joanie says - oh, yes - you’d have it organized in a heart beat.” She closed her book with a snap. What was that thing Auntie Bertha used to do? Jeannie and I laughed at her funny ways.” Martha pulled out two of the kitchen chairs, set them in front of the sink, facing each other. She was about to sit down on one, but went over to the kitchen window and pulled the curtains. “This is silly Martha, there’s no one out there - there’s never anyone out there. It’s our back yard!” Sitting in one of the chairs, Martha began to talk - asking questions to an empty chair, then getting up, sitting in the other chair and answering the questions.
~~~~~
“Martha! I’m home.” James Digby, butler for the Beaufort estate had been out all day. First to the Estate to complete paper work for the upcoming tax time, then into town for groceries and a haircut. Martha, the Estate’s housekeeper, jumped up from her chair - “Oh, James - so early. I’ll just be starting supper a bit late.” She quickly put the chairs back, put her forgotten tea things in the sink and set the cookie jar in the corner of the cupboard. “There you are, Martha, you look dreadfully flustered. What have you been doing? Don’t worry about supper, I had a late bite in town with Giles.”
“My, my…don’t you look nice. That barber does such a nice job of your hair, James. How’s Giles? I suppose with Dr. Jeremy still working, Giles will still be needed out here.” Martha pushed a stray hair back from her forehead.
James held her shoulders gently and kissed her on the forehead. “Now where did that come from? Dr. Jeremy?” Martha was sure James had caught her before she’d had time to put the chairs back. Nervously, she said,… “Do you remember that I wanted to set a wedding reception for them? I’ve been struggling all afternoon trying to figure out what to do. Really punishing myself for not getting it organized before now. I’m glad you’re home, dear.”
“Well then, my dear, it must be time for a walk. All the snow is gone and the walkway is mostly dry. It’s a lovely evening and I know where there are some pussy willows just peeping out. You can leave your plans till tomorrow……or maybe later this evening.” James knew the meaning of Martha’s wrinkled brow and really wanted to ease whatever was troubling her.
~~~~~
“Thank you James. It was a lovely evening for a walk - and seeing the pussy willows out - well that made it all the better. I hope you don’t think I’m going crazy.” Martha had told him about using her Auntie Bertha's little 'chair' practice for organizing the gathering for the newlyweds. “You know, I finally know why my aunt did that. She probably only did it once, but in my memory, it seems many more times. It did help me finally know what I need to do. Leave all the little bits of puttering alone and sort things out between me, myself and I - but then I suppose I should have had three chairs. “
James laughed and gave his wife a hug. “I do not think you’re crazy and I look forward to whatever it is you have planned.”
“Distraction wastes our energy, concentration restores it.”
~ Sharon Salzberg
Imitations of what intention really is, splashed all over the place ~
Broad bright beautiful brush strokes on billboards and in media ~ not just TV anymore,
subverting intention to make meaning in our lives ~
merely show us more shiny things to collect and own.
But some can be real road maps
to show - or not show -
life’s meaning - advertisements
for environmental change and changes,
for the arts whether symphonic or literary,
for food production and preparation ~
even if any are reality TV shows.
(I get a sour stomach from the very words ’Reality TV’).
Being careful about what I dislike ~
are they judgements or just preferences?
Can I flip judgements on their annoying heads
To find what’s missing
To find what I can do
To question whether the image fits with
my intention to make meaning.
“Almost all absurdity of conduct arises from
the imitation of those whom we cannot resemble.”
~ Samuel Johnson, The Rambler.
Imitations of what intention really is…..
Never ending puttering or busy work……
The theme for this month is Intention.......
Each distraction seems to have real value……..
Nickels, dimes and quarters sit at the bottom of purses, pockets and under couch cushions.
Taking intention for a walk…
Intrigued by the pull……
'Over there' is always an option……
Nibbling at the edges of intention…….
Such a serious business, this intention thing. I will do my best to avoid being too serious this month with this theme. After all, it is just a writing exercise……..
“Yes, that’s the worst of it. It’s a desperately vexatious thing,
that after all one’s reflections and quiet determinations,
we should be ruled by moods that one can’t calculate on beforehand.”
~ George Eliot, Adam Bede
I’m waiting for sunflowers ~
bright spots in back alleys,
placed perfectly on manicured lawns,
guarding gardens or
in brilliant rows in fields ~
nodding ‘Hi!’ with cheerful smiles
when the snowmen and spring flowers
have each passed their season.
“I don’t think there’s anything on this planet that more trumpets life than the sunflower.”
~ Helen Mirren
