Sleep Reading

Yawning 

  despite the desire to keeping reading, 

plot twisting and turning, 

 characters leaping over gigantic obstacles,

solid 

 black 

   print 

fading 

        in and out

Characters in slow motion 

   Obstacles softening and translucent

…….what happened?! …..

I just dozed off again! 

“It was a way of recognizing places of enchantment: 

people falling asleep like this.”

~ Jonathan Franzen, novelist

Coffee and a Good Book

Leading on a whim,

It was coffee time, 

more specifically 

Latte time but….

“Sorry ma’am, the 

espresso machine isn’t working. Closest would be a mocha or a cappucino.”

Hmm…decisions are hard!

I always have Lattes, but 

the barista was so nice…..

snow, wind and April cold or….

my choice was definite ~

“Mocha and that chocolate twist, please.”

“When values are clear, decisions are easy.”

~ John Spence

Good Earth Coffeehouse

3806 Albert St.

In SmartCentres Regina (Golden Mile Shopping Centre)

Regina, Sask.

It's Time ~ 2

It’s time. 

Time for words 

to fill the page ~ 

words that have meaning. 

only silence. 

Scribbles, 

looking for poetry, 

often find a whiff of inspiration

but only scribbles appear. 

air is sterile.

All these words on the page are details ~

details of ordinary life feeling uninspired. 

Today my life was ordinary. 

Not boring because it held the things important to me. 

Reaching out to a friend

Self care at home and in the community

Reading a couple chapters of a popular book

Resting late in the day because it was needed.

Walking against the cold wind was tiring. 

Lumpy, bumpy ice slowed my pace. 

And still there is nothing to write?  

“I tell my students there is such a thing as ‘writers 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

A January Smile

A January smile is difficult to catch 

when wind blows cold and icicles 

melt turning to muddy skating rinks tempting to huddle and sulk 

about weather’s ups and downs but, 

with reading, writing and 

Louis Armstrong, smiles appear as if by magic ~ calming within the storm.

“You are the sky. Everything else ~ it’s just the weather.”

~ Pema Chödrön

Boxed In

They were stacked carefully in corners and closets waiting. Waiting for someone to release them from their duct taped cardboard prisons. To be set upright on empty shelves where they can sit patiently and breathe the air of possibility.

I did open one box sitting in my living room; one of the many boxes stacked in my spare room waiting for me to make a decision. My only intention was to take out the top book and read, only to give interest and shape to today. Something to do while I wait for outside activities to resume. with questionable optimism about the success of such a venture past today. Actually, I really needed to get the box out of the way as my feline friend, Jet, was curious about the loose edges of tape holding it together. 

To my surprise and my own curiosity, two books opened up possibility and space in my heart. The first - All We Hold a Dear by Kathryn Lynn Davis -  is a work of romantic fiction, alternating between the 19th and 20th centuries and an old favourite of mine that takes me into the wilds of Scotland from the comfort of my own home. The second, a gift from a friend in 1989, Today’s Gift, is a daily reading book full of wisdom and common sense. This reminder of an old daily reading practice also took me on a trip. A trip down memory lane.

Since I was a very little girl, when on sleep overs at my grandparents in my hometown, breakfast was always prefaced by my grandpa's daily reading from the Bible and another slim booklet, the name escapes me at this writing. I suppose it set the time for not just our meal, but more my grandparent’s day. I did let go of that practice as soon as breakfast started, but I’ve remembered the calmness of those moments. Two decades later, I was re-introduced to a similar more secular practice at a time when I was in need of that structure and order. Exactly what I need for these boxed in pandemic days.

“Books are the quietest and most constant of  friends; 

they are the most accessible and wisest and

of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.”

~ Charles W. Eliot

Chapter One, Episode 19 - Martha - Situationally Theirs

May 24, 2020

Review, Edit and Update: 

Minor issues this morning. Some sentence structure improved. When there is dialogue, a lot or a little, I am often tempted to ‘fix’ the grammar or sentence structure. What I have learned is to think about the character and whether my proposed changes would fit with that personality. Martha just chatters on, so I just let her go. I quite like this character.

Martha

Martha had her desktop computer open for two hours and she wasn’t about to turn it off yet. Her grandchildren had pushed her ‘laugh button’ over and over again, just as she had pushed theirs. Martha hoped they never lost their 'laugh buttons'. Easter Bunny Ben was hopping about. Little Chick Abigail just stood still and went ‘Peep. Peep’. They wore the costumes she made for them for the cancelled school Easter play. Martha was certain they were playing their roles just perfectly. Fashioning a broken egg shell so Abby could put her little legs through it so she could walk around to peck and peep, had been a challenge. That egg shell had really tackled her figuring out skills. But she kept all sorts of things in her sewing room at home. Old pieces of plastic, cardboard, ribbons from Christmas presents, broken toys that couldn’t be mended and buttons. Jars of buttons. There were many more things, but unlike the pantry at the Beaufort mansion, she didn’t keep an inventory. She just knew where everything was. When she was making the Easter bunny costume, she found the Bunny ears from some other Easter play for her daughter Joanie, Ben’s mother. All she had to do was use a piece of white fleece fabric for the onesie and pop a pompom on his backside. Joanie drew a bunny face with whiskers and nose and Ben became a movie star. For Little Chick, she pulled out some bright yellow seersucker cotton for her onesie, found some pieces of orange plastic for the beak and used some of the yellow Christmas ribbons to tie it on and little Abigail became another movie star. Martha beamed. The two of them looked so cute. Still chuckling, a tear, or maybe two, slipped from her already sparkling violet eyes. Ben hopped and Abigail peeped.  Martha glanced at the kitchen clock.

“Oh my goodness. Look at the time. I told Joanie ~ that’s my daughter you know ~ that I had my supper ready. Well, my supper is ready, so I'll set my place here at the desk. I guess I can do that while she takes the children to get changed before their supper. We’re going to have supper together but not really together. We’ll sit down at our tables and say grace ~ we won’t be able to hold hands. I think it’s Ben’s turn to say grace.”

You might think there was someone else in Martha’s home with her, but no, if no one is there, she just talks to the computer. If someone ever is there, they wouldn’t get a word in edgewise anyway. For her supper, Martha had made a small ham and a small dish of scalloped potatoes for herself. Joanie made the same, but a bit more, for her small family. They both had tulips from their gardens on their tables. It was the closest they could come to being together on this Easter. They did miss going to church, but they found a church service on TV that they watched together but in their own homes. 

“The one Easter that I don’t have to be organizing for some party for Mrs. Beaufort and here we all are. Stuck in our own homes. I feel like I’m on house arrest!”

Martha chattered on to Joanie between bites of her supper. She would stop every now and then, interrupt herself to say how delicious it all tasted. “Did I ever tell you that Cook and I have a friendly little fuss about who the best cook is? Oh course, I know that Cook is and that’s why I’m only the Housekeeper. But I know one thing, and I’ll never tell Cook, but my pumpkin pie is much better. Cook has never spiced her pumpkin with the right balance of cloves and cinnamon. Did you get the pie I left you, Joanie? If you didn’t then that neighbourhood cat or one of the dogs made off with it.”

“Yes, I did get it mom, thanks. I came right out after you left and brought it in the house.” Joanie was used to her mother’s storytelling, so just let her go on. If she had something important to say or add, she chose her timing carefully. “What is it Ben?” 

“I want to ask Grandma something." He didn't wait for his mother's reply.... "Grandma, did you clean up your plate. Because if you didn’t, you can’t have your pie. See ~ my plate is real clean.” Ben held his plate up to the computer camera. “And Abby is just eating her last bite. Mom……”

“Yes, honey, I’m finishing up my supper. Why don’t you go and bring the pie over to the table. By the time you’re back, my plate will be cleaned right up.”

Martha really had no idea how much of a chatterbox she had become in the long days that she spent at home. She talked to herself about what she was going to do and when. She would hum when she got occupied with sewing or cleaning or clearing out those cupboard drawers she'd been neglecting for so long. She was used to having Cook and Brigitte to talk to when she was at work. Digby was not very conversational at all. But he is a gentleman. Not the flirty kind. Just doing his work, keeping the Upstairs running smoothly. And then there was this Upstairs and Downstairs. Martha shook her head and her otherwise pleasant face creased with a frown. It sounds like we’re in that TV series and we’re definitely not as stuck up and know it all as that lot. We just go about our business and when it’s time to go home, we do. None of this sitting around and gossiping about what’s going on Upstairs. 

As Martha was clearing up her dishes from supper, her thoughts about this Easter were that it was really not too bad. Especially considering all the troubles so many others were having theses days. She didn’t like listening to much on the radio about that nasty virus, but she did every couple of days just to keep up. She was used to ‘directing traffic’ as she called it, with the staff and helping Joanie out with the kids. She was getting restless. Her house was cleaner and tidier that it had been in a long time. Martha looked at herself in the mirror as she was getting ready for bed. What did Abby say about my face? ‘It’s crumpling, Grandma.’  Well I’m not that old, a few years past Mrs. Beaufort. Well more than a few years. Abby just patted my face and told me it was alright. That she loves me anyway.

In her bedroom, Martha turned her bedside lamp on, turned back the bedcovers, propped up her pillows and got into bed. Always a reader, she opened her book for her nightly read. Still reading at midnight, she yawned, put her book down and said out loud “Lights out.” 

“If anyone or anything tries to curse or kill the Goodness at the Center 

of all things, it will just keep coming back to life. Forever Easter.

~ David Housholder, The Blackberry Bush

Chapter One, Episode Eight - April Fools - Situationally Theirs ~ DETERMINATION ~ Theme for April 2020

May 12, 2020

Update, Review and Edit:

My usual first of the month post, based on a writing exercise, have sentences that were extremely long and convoluted. Many years ago, author Naomi Wakan was a guest at our writing group. She had us each write a long sentence. Then we were to repeatedly shorten this sentence. The goal? To maintain the original intent, but be more concise. At the time, I did not see its value. Today, with still much to learn, I am very grateful for this lesson. 

This entire story, Situationally Theirs, has become a daily writing exercise in word crafting, timelines, relationships…..and the many details of story. I appreciate everyone that reads my posts as well as the comments that I receive.

April 01, 2020

**At the beginning of each month I change my theme and try to depict different nuances of it throughout the month. For April, I move from Challenges, March’s theme to Determination, April’s theme. Determination is something we all need in this very confusing, strange time. 

As a writing exercise, I write a partial sentence or stem beginning with each letter of the chosen word. This month I’ve done it just a bit differently by writing a full sentence that follows my story line in Situationally Theirs. I’ve also added more to the story once I've completed the exercise but have more to say.

April Fools - Episode 8

Desperanza was determined to maintain her sanity, worried that she was fast losing touch with reality while in her sister’s home. 

Emelina was a bit concerned about her sister, listening to her cry herself to sleep each night, something she had done as a child, tears never seen in the light of day. 

Time moved so very slowly, unless the sisters explored their enforced solitude and their sudden reunion. 

Even so, Emmie would put her book down and stare off into space, and Dez would hold her paint brush in mid air studying the edge of the canvas. 

Rest, once a luxury, for these two single women were confined by pandemic mitigating policies, seemed all that they did anymore. 

Music, however could transport them, lift their hearts into its flow, lift their feet off the floor to get them moving and feeling normal again. 

Interest in the outside world wavered, as they became engrossed within, yet often one or the other would sit outside as the weather warmed.

Naturally, they did gravitate to this fresh, clean outside world to explore, sit in the sun, tidy the gardens, or run on the gravelled track on Emelina’s grand estate. 

As each day passed, Dez realized, or at least thought she did, that purpose on this earth was not to be doing all the time, but just to be. 

“There is no doing.”

“ I didn’t hear you, Dez, you said something about ‘there is no doing.’ ?“

“Over and over I look for something that I should be doing, but then I stop and realize that none of that ‘doing’ is unnecessary unless I want to do it, except of course to eat and sleep. “

“Now I understand why you’ve been so upset; it’s the same uncomfortable, restless feeling I’ve had when I look at the calendar seeing only empty squares where Board meetings and Charity activities filled every hour of my day.

~~~~~

“OMG! Listen to us being so mopey and serious. Here’s a plan to do and be something quite unnecessary and silly. And….it will let us know what day it is. I keep losing track - it could be Sunday or Tuesday or any day. Here’s the deal. I draw something in the square on the calendar on one day - I’ve already done it for today - and then the next day you draw or paint something. It can be in colours, black and white, or paints. If there was something written in that was cancelled you get to draw over it. If there really is something scheduled you get to draw over or around it. What d’you think?”

“It sounds like it might be fun.” Fun was something Emelina had almost forgotten in her rounds of meetings and functions. There was always a purpose to everything she did. If there was a purpose to Dez’s crazy idea, it would be just to……….what……have fun? 

“So tomorrow is my day to fill the calendar? Can I start tonight?”

“That’s your call. Just as long as it’s ready when I get my cell phone camera out in the morning. What do you want for supper? We’ve got your Cook’s frozen pizza or her frozen meat pies.”

“Mix a little foolishness with your prudence: 

It’s good to be silly at the right moment.”

~ Horace

Listening: The Human Factor

This little essay is about writing and reading, two of my favourite pastimes. When I’ve written and posted a Book Review without listening to our book club’s discussion, I find I have more difficulty with organizing my thoughts. This despite reading book reviews on line. Those reviews are very helpful, giving me different perspectives to consider. Discussion among friends is somehow different. Maybe it’s just the laughter, coffee and goodies that are marvellous accompaniments! But somehow I don’t think so. In this world of instant everything, we have access to many, many opinions, online chats, information, various forms of markets and games. What is not immediately accessible is the human contact of….you guessed it….laughter, coffee and goodies. The human dynamic that is the joy of listening and learning about books we read, the movies we go to, a shopping experience or a weekly walk with friends. As I write I see that this little essay is about more than just writing and reading, but about the human experience that touches all of our five senses, as well as our sense of spirit. 

But neither is technology a bad thing. This laptop, cold to touch, holds the photo of my great granddaughter on the screen. It  fills me with a glorious cheer, reminding me of her soft little hand touching my wrinkly old face. My pen, with black ink, and my journal, with soft cover and lined pages, are mere objects. Yet when my hand takes them up each morning, I enter a private space for exploration into my thoughts, ideas, worries, solutions and sometimes even a to do list. Then I take some bit of my writing to the electronics of my laptop and onto my blog site at Standing Still Slowly. To write in my journal or on this electronic page for even a grocery list I have had to listen. To listen to myself and the ideas and experience of others. We can allow technology to disconnect us in annoyance, or use it as the useful tool it is meant to be. Whether electronic or good old fashioned pen and paper, they are all useful tools for writing, for reading and maintaining human connections. By the way, I was introduced to my present walking group, book group and a circle of new friends from an online search many years ago.

Listening is a human factor felt through all of our senses infusing our hearts and spirits with the context of life. Our surface intellect tends to censor what has been heard, sometimes with too much evaluation. When listening is as invisible as the electronics of this computer, the details will be at our fingertips in whatever we do.

“Writing too, is 90% listening. You listen so deeply to the space around you

 that it fills you up, and when you write, it pours out of you.”

~ Natalie Goldberg,  Writing Down the Bones (pg.58)

Walking the Tracks

In my blog from October 6th, I wrote about what I called a Whirligig Weekend. The annual Victoria Festival of Authors, held from October 02 - 06, 2019, set my head spinning. And I only attended five of the eighteen scheduled events! Earlier in the week, I had other commitments which probably saved my poor brain from absolute overload.  I’ve titled this blog post ‘Walking the Tracks’ because of the photo on the front of the event booklet. My experience truly was ‘walking the tracks’ laid down by the authors that I was able to listen to. 

Starting Friday morning, all morning, I attended the Art of Storytelling to listen to author Richard Van Camp. Our small group, gathered around a long plank table, was all ready, pen in hand and lots of paper. Ready to hear the structure of storytelling that has won him success. Instead, we listened Richard’s stories and the wave that he took them through. Throughout he asked us for stories of our own which several of us shared. Was I disappointed that my ‘class room persona’ had not had a good work out? Maybe a little bit, but by listening to the flow of story I heard the Art of Storytelling.

Saturday was full. First on the schedule Riel Work: In Conversation with Jean Teillet & Gregory Scofield. Jean Teillet, the author of The North West is our Mother is an amazing speaker, is the grand niece of Louis Riel. She has an accurate story of Louis Riel and explained so much Canadian history from that time. 

The next event, before lunch and moderated by Robert Wiersema, was Immaculate History shared by graphic novelist Sarah Leavitt, poet Erin Mouré, and author Steven Price.The inspiration for their works were figures ~ legendary or real ~ taken from written history or personal experience. The crafting of these works in these diverse genres is quite amazing to me. 

Walking outside in the fresh air between events for lunch was to take a deep breath and revive some energy before diving into the afternoon’s event moderated by Marita Daschel: In the Beginning……with authors Carla Funk, Yasuko Thanh, Meenal Shrivastava, and Samra Zafar. Each author brought us works about the changes they had wrought in their lives. From various rigid childhood experiences to articulate and confident writers, each story was the same in the strength of character that they each found and developed. Different only in details and geography.

Sunday morning, the final event that we attended, was moderated by Robert Wiersema. Titled Wayfinding: Is that a path there? ‘The quest is one of the oldest plot devices going…….’ and is the focus for novelist Cherie Dimaline, poet Pauline Holdstock and debut novelist Karen McBride. Discussion about character development was the most interesting to me.

So, did I buy one of their books ~ some set for awards? Have you ever heard the phrase: ‘So many books, so little time?’ Well, I restrained myself and did not purchase any books in favour of the books I’m already reading. However I have the list of these books as the ‘next to read’ for me. The list is below so you can also add to your own ‘so many books’ list.  

“You can never get a cup of tea large enough 

or a book long enough to suit me.”

~ C.S.Lewis

Authors and Book List

Richard Van Camp: We Sang You Home - children’s book in Cree and English

Jean Teillet:  The North-West is Our Mother - accurate history of Louis Riel

Sarah Leavitt:  Agnes, Murderess - graphic novel

Erin Mouré:  The Elements - poetry

Steven Price:  Lampedusa - novel

Yasuko Thanh: Mistakes to Run With

Carla Funk: Every Little Scrap and Wonder

Meenal Shrivastava: Amma’s Daughters

Samra Zafar: A Good Wife

Cherie Dimaline: Empire of the Wild

Pauline Holdstock: Here I Am!

Karen McBride: Crow Winter