Always Time

On a grey day 

when the wind is low 

and the air is cool 

there is always time 

to pause and notice 

dark purple berries surrounded 

by autumn gold and green .

“This time, like all times, is a very good one, 

if we but know what to do with it.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

(1803~ 1882)

Pause

Wings beat in the pause 

between the bee in flight 

and the bee landing on 

a blossom. No hesitation 

in crossing this space of a 

breath. Merely on a heading 

to gather sustenance before

a pause to the next blossom.

“Take walk with a turtle. And behold the world in pause.”

~ Bruce Feller

Such a Thing

Sorting, wondering

trying to drag a story onto the page; 

all the words separate and set adrift 

after a weekend of wording and sorting

and a day of restoring my home ~ 

no longer any purchase in story or song

pausing in their flight to rest til tomorrow.

“I tell my students there is such a thing as ‘writer’s block’, 

and they should respect it. It’s blocked because 

it ought to be blocked, because you haven’t got it right now.”

~ Toni Morrison

Rest Stops?

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a red squirrel perched on a branch thick as my arm.

From a corner of her mind,

the wisp of a thought 

curled along synapses 

behind her eyes.

The squirrel knows when to pause. 

Do our minds know that tactic?

Are they merely rest stops for ideas?

“Biology gives you a brain. Life turns it into a mind.”

~ Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex

 

A Pause

The blank page stares at me

with its single white eye 

   ~ ideas flown,

     ~ fantasies buried 

       ~ memories deep in the past.

And so I let creativity rest.

     ~ just for tonight

“The principle of art is to pause, not bypass.”

~ Jerzy Kosinski

Only a Theory

Theory: ‘if anything can go wrong, it will’

Murphy’s Law of uncertainty?

Cliché, truism or possibility? 

Universe has paid little 

attention to my plans ~

in a perverse sense of humour. 

I'll have to figure it out, 

make it fit with my plans 

or crash and burn. 

No individual on high

does such a disservice

just to test me?

A simple answer ~ 

every eventuality has been missed!

When my plans go awry, 

when things don’t go to plan, 

can I adjust? 

Stop. 

take a breath ~

where is the kink in my plan?

Will I just give up, 

crawl in a hole and 

leave the world behind?

Once upon a time that was the only option ~

and not a good one at that ~ but now

options and possibilities are a buffet. 

Whatever ‘went wrong’ ?

It's merely a stop sign, 

the golden hand held up at a cross walk. 

A pause before moving forward.  

My choice.

“All theories are legitimate, no matter. 

What matters is what you do with them.”

~ Jorge Luis Borges

Over There

'Over there' is always an option 

- a boat I can travel on

start the engines to stir waters

feel the sun warming my face,

and wind combing my hair ~ but ~ 

does it fit with my intention 

to put my feet down and

stay still while my pen moves 

curving into letters 

swirling into ideas 

until my hips get sore

my hand cramps and

I wiggle just to keep my blood flowing. 

over there may be across the room

or outside on the water or the prairies 

when the words begin to flow again. 

am I making excuses for myself

so I can put my pen down?

this artistry paying only dividends of enjoyment 

painting word pictures in black ink or pixels. 

bending to the old messages 

- maybe not always so old -

that zeroes in on dollars and cents 

when it is sense that should be attended to. 

bending to those messages 

carved and curved into my memories 

like rutted grooves of an old vinyl recording. 

spinning ‘round and ‘round without stopping 

until I really look over there 

is that option really all that much better?

is it just busy work?

only a different form of play?

will I come back to what intrigues me most 

putting pen to paper to curve and carve out 

what my head, hand and heart want 

until over there is a rest, a pause, a refill for

it is the well outside of me that

refills my spirit and gives my body rest 

from this unproductive but joyous thing - 

(I sound like a scratchy voice on a very old message machine.)

So I hoist my sails,

sling a pack on my back

and write a story of 

over there. 

“Writing is its own reward.”

~ Henry Miller

Break Time

Oh, the blank page ~

silent, flat and 

a plateau for a rest

uninvited, stretching and

a pause to refresh.

“Get comfortable being uncomfortable, that’s how you break 

the plateau and reach the next level.”

~ Chalene Johnson, author

Level Ground

To pause

To breathe and breathe again

To rest

To find level ground

To awaken

To the new world around me

“It’s a transformative experience to simply pause 

instead of immediately filling up space.”

~ Pema Chodron

Hitting Pause

For each of 165 days, I have written short episodes about two fictional characters - Desperanza Eliot and her sister Emelina Beaufort in Situationally Theirs. I unwittingly began this little saga on March 25th, about two weeks after restrictions were recommended to decrease the transmissibility of the Covid19 virus. Regretfully and yet joyfully, I am hitting pause on new episodes of Situationally Theirs throughout the upcoming weekend. All my characters have gathered 'round me in the alone times and I have been glad to share them with all with my readers. However, maintaining a cohesive story line for these wonderful characters is becoming very awkward for them and for me. This funny little community will be rethinking how they wish to continue, but I will continue with morning Revisions of earlier Episodes to further support their stories.

Since returning to Regina, I have been spending wonderful time with family and friends, while maintaining my writing practice, and establishing myself in my home community. Writing, for me, has been a life saver in this era of pandemic restrictions. The act of writing has kept me focused on my life by traveling into the life of my characters. My readers have supported my writing no matter how awkward it has been. I absolutely love being in regular contact with family and friends. Often, I spend about six to eight hours a day writing posts, more time reading about writing, and I wish to resume writing a monthly book review. All this while recreating my life here in Regina.

My first book review, tomorrow evening’s post, is The Storyteller's Secret by Sejal Bedani - a beautiful, tragic story of love, growth and loss that crosses family traditions, cultural norms, and societies rules.

“It’s not so much knowing when to speak…..but when to pause.”

~ Jack Benny

Chapter One, Episode 127 - Stop and Think - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

An interesting coincidence! Just as I am Hitting Pause on any new episodes, here is Dez re-evaluating her place with the Estate in Stop and Think. (A 'Staff meeting' is in the offing in the next week).

Revision, scattered throughout, involved removal of unnecessary pronouns, redundant phrases, more clearly, showing Dez's thoughts. 

Stop and Think

She pulled her car onto the shoulder of the road. Turning it off, releasing her seat belt,  she sat back and stared up the tree lined lane. From where she sat she couldn’t see the Beaufort Mansion. A pretty grand name for a plain brick home. Plain only in its design, a gigantic box constructed of bricks, mortar, wood and nails. A box that had contained the lives of families for over two centuries.

When Desperanza Eliot had walked into the Global Grand Bank branch on the early evening of March 25, 2020, she had no idea…..no idea at all…… that her life would become entwined with the lives in any grand mansion at all, let alone Hartley's well known Beaufort Estate. She was plain Dez Eliot. She worked at various jobs. She had friends and relationships. Except for one that had become very important: her sister, Emelina. Estranged from her sister for over ten years, there was no reason for Dez to think that she would do anything but work and go out with friends, go home to her humble apartment, do a sketch or painting, and go to bed. 

But would her relationship with her sister and her sister’s estate stand the test of time? Dez smiled as she remembered all that had transpired in the past four months. Each event, even the encounters with a little ghost, had been the most enjoyable events of her life. She had grown fond of all the people of the Beaufort Estate. Cook, for her delicious, generous meals and snacks. Martha for her welcoming kindness towards Dez. Digby, doing so much more than just a butler. Samuel! His stories of how things grow, history of the estate and the affection he would never admit for Cook. She loved working in the orchard but did not feel that she had made much progress. And the apiary? Still no bees, on hold because she was not completely ready. The bees had been ordered but fortunately, the company had delayed the shipment more than once. Reacquainted with Matt Hamilton, an orchardist and apiarist, he was her 'go to guy' for his practical knowledge of orchards and bees. Knowledge she needed if she were to develop the Estate's orchard. Their relationship had blossomed into an easy friendship.

Dez had needed this stop and think at the roadside so she could grasp once more how she fit in to this world. Should she continue with the work on the orchard under the dubious title of Project Manager? She knew one thing for certain: she would not become estranged from Emmie again. Dez picked up her phone and was ready to call Emmie, but sent her a text instead. “We need to talk.”

“Far away in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, 

but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, 

and try to follow where they lead.”

~ Louisa May Alcott