Wait for the Stars

The dark has fallen, 

But wait for the stars.

The darkness may be deepening, 

But wait for the stars.

Even if the clouds pour rain upon you,

They must soon pass, so wait,

Wait for the stars.

I know you fear the darkness you have already seen,

But this is not an endless nightmare.

Wait for the stars.

You are haunted by the dark of broken dreams,

But this is only the nighttime, 

Wait for the stars.

No matter how dark it is,

Or how dark it was,

There is always hope, 

Even if it is very small and very far away.

Even if it is only one faint star in the whole of the sky.

Do not let the darkness overwhelm you,

One star will always bring more.

Just wait.

Please wait.

Wait for the stars.

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Rest Gently Shadow my boy.  One day I will see you again in the stars.  Til then I will wait for grief to pass slowly like the nighttime.  I will trust in the stars even when I cannot see them.  Soon, soon one will shine and the light will increase and slowly the grief will fade.  

Hope Writer Challenge - Remember

Today for @hopewriters writing challenge #hopewriterlife the topic is Remember.

When we talk about remembering it is important to keep in mind that memory is not perfect. It is perfectly possible to forget something that felt momentous at the time whereas seemingly insignificant things can linger for years to come.

I find that it is almost more important to record the little things that happen. The small moments that mean so much in life because life is not a straight forward journey. For me, I'm making sure to record the little things that surprise me during this time of global pandemic. I want to remember in years to come the things that made me smile in the midst of tragedy, the moments of friendship that lightened my load and encouraged me. I want to record for posterity the things that surprised me during this time and the things that I learned.

I used this double photo (in a spinning double sided frame) for today's image because I feel it represents life both in its journey and its singular strength and beauty. There are things I wish I could forget about this time, burdens I do not wish to bear. This frame sits on my desk to remind me that life is a journey much like a spiral staircase. It's as much about going sideways and around as it is about going up. Progress in life is often accomplished by going many steps sideways before you go forward.

On the other side is a photo of two buildings from two very different ages, both beautiful. It is straight lines and reflections. These buildings tell me that strength and beauty look different in different times. Every age of your life holds a different piece of your truth. Your strength and beauty grows and changes with time reflecting your progress, your journey. You are no less strong or beautiful for having different shapes and emphases in different ages of your life. Even as you reinvent yourself, it is built upon your old strength, just as the older building is reflected in the windows of the newer one.

May this remind you, as it does me, that even if you're different from the other buildings, you are still beautiful. You are still strong. You just need to keep following your own lines. Be your own building, for that is where your strength and beauty lies. 

Remember that and it will help you through the tough days when all your steps go sideways and you cannot see the end of the winding stairs. 

Remember too, that even when nobody around you looks like you, you are strong and beautiful and that your steps will wind upwards slowly even when you can't see it.

Hope Writer Challenge - Reach

An enormous Italian Renaissance style sunset over my house for the #hopewriterlife, writing challenge for @hopewriters about Reach.

Reimagine 2020 with an Idea of Writing Reach and Change

Italian Renaissance Style Sunset over San Diego

The moment I begin to reimagine this year I start by imagining it without cornonavirus.  My very next thoughts are of comparison, reflecting on the deep differences we see between now and the years we've known of late.  So, for me to reimagine this year with the themes of writing and reach in mind I must compare my present with the recent past.

Writing for me has always been something I must do on occasion when I can't sleep.  My mind runs mad with stories or turns of phrase that demand to be recorded.  Sometimes writing is how I process my world and thoughts, and it's the only thing that keeps me from falling to bits.  All of this is to say that writing had been a deeply internal process for me and reaching any sort of audience with my writing has been a rather new thought.

Only in this last year I stated to notice that there is a part of me that wants to be seen and heard with my writing.  And as much as it scares me to bare pieces of my soul to the world thus, there has been a nagging thought that it is selfish of me to keep these pretty turns of phrase and hopeful midnight musings to myself.

I don't exactly have grand dreams of reaching an audience for myself.  There's a large part of me that's still frightened to be seen.  But when I think of the purpose of my writing, especially now, I think it is my purpose, my duty, to offer help with words in any way I can.

In these strange times I've been writing again, for a data center company of all places; offering hope that people and communities can and will take care of one another in these days of doubt and fear.  In this unlikely place, I have found the opportunity to bring messages of the way that our infrastructure connects us, instead of focusing on our distance.

That is not to say that I don't feel fear and doubt myself.  I too have been overwhelmed. I have had my share of anxious nights.  I have cried for myself and those around me, feeling our losses and our hardships keenly.  I simply choose, whenever I feel such emotions, to seek out stories that acknowledge pain and still uplift.

I have in my search found hope in the strangest places.  I have found large companies using their considerable Reach to send messages of hope, connection and perseverance.  I have seen neighbors help one another, offering the help and services they can.  I have seen people donating food and masks and supplies where they can.  I have seen people writing letters to friends and holding video chats to check in with one another.  I have been invited to free painting classes and seen many strangers advertise free counseling and tutoring during this time.  We are all offering what we can.

And it may not be seen as a lot by the eyes of the outside world, but together when we all offer what we can to anyone we can help, we all make the difference.  My reach my not be large.  The five masks I helped make may not be enough.  And the words I can offer may not be groundbreaking.  But together, that is where we have magic.

For the reach of one person is small, but with many hands and more helpers we can reach so much further. If I can help one person who can then help two more, together we can make all the difference. Doing our bit is all we can do. Even as we may feel isolated and alone, even as we feel powerless, if we find one way to help someone else shoulder the burden of this time we are doing our bit. And together we can change the world. 

Together our reach is infinite and we are unstoppable.

I wrote this on May 12th and I think it's more true than ever.  As I reread it this week knowing what turmoil we are in trying to address the blatant racism and tragedy we have all seen it only rings more true.  Individually we may be small, and our reach unimportant.  But together, with all of us doing one small thing, we can make the world a better place.  Together our reach is infinite and we are truly unstoppable.

Hope Writer Challenge - Reimagine 2020 - Rewrite

Hope Writer's hosted an Instagram writing challenge to reimagine 2020.  The challenge had a different topic every day for a week. And the first day's topic was Rewrite.  I wrote about all of this on Instagram on my profile @madderhattery, but I'd like to repost the writing here because I think we need more words of hope these days.

Reimagine 2020 - Rewrites

Spring Blossoms in Chicago - photo by The Madder Hatter

As part of the Hope Writer's challenge I'm talking about Rewrites today.

As much as we may wish to change the things that have already happened, we cannot.  What we can do is take this unprecedented turn of affairs, this global pandemic, and use it to rewrite our lives.

Everywhere I look I see neighbors meeting and growing closer during this new distance.  Being stuck at home has forced us to look closer at our communities and see the very real things going on in our own backyards.

Sometimes, we get so caught up in the rhythm of our daily lives that we don't ask ourselves if it's the right rhythm.  This forced pause has caused us to look inward.  We can't run from our thoughts and doubts when they are the only company we keep.  So I think it's time we face them.

It's time to take the giant blank slate of our future and reimagine it.  How often have you heard someone shout down your dreams because they couldn't ever be?  It's just the way the world is.  Yet, here we are living in a world nobody had imagined.  It tells you something; some of the largest most unavoidable things about modern life are entirely arbitrary.  And not only can we change them, we can change a lot of them all at once in the course of a few weeks.

So take up your life and examine it.  Listen in the quiet for what you've always known you wanted and use this pause to start fighting for it.  The future can be rewritten, no matter what course it was on before.  Take a moment to learn from your fear and anger what it is your heart really wants.

Don't put off that project, career change, or dream.  Start down that path today.  Nobody can say what the future will bring, but it certainly won't hold the things you didn't bother to fight for.

You are the author of your future.  Pick up your pen today and remember that coming together (even when that means staying apart), is what makes us stronger.  Remember that there is always something you can do to help both yourself and someone else.  And remember that every single one of us will help shape the future.   So make it a good one.   Make it a beautiful one.  Make it a loving, accepting and hopeful one.  Join me and rewrite a better future for all of us.

A Whole Tree of Spring Blossoms in Chicago photo by the Madder Hatter 

I wrote those words about the global pandemic just a few weeks ago, but I think they take on new relevance now considering the racism and injustice we've all seen this last week.  Even reconsidering it all I want to leave you with the same words.  

Join me and rewrite a better future for all of us.

Making Art When Your Heart is Broken

There is a beautiful quote by Shane L. Koyczan:

"If your heart is broken, make art with the pieces." Shane L. Koyczan

When my heart is broken that's what I try to do.  I try to pick up the pieces and bravely find beauty.  I turn my sadness, my brokenness, my trauma into art.  I write of darkness and hope.  I write of crying and grieving.  I write of carrying on even if that means sitting down to cry.  

I have recently realized that part of this need to create art with my brokenness is because I have far too many feelings to leave them bottled up inside.  They well up, they overwhelm and then they overflow into what I do.  

This is Strach the Opossum, he is currently reading the Highly Sensitive Person and some Poetry by W.E. Henley and doing a bit of journaling.

I'm reading a book called The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You by Elaine N. Aron, Ph.D.  In it she has some very interesting research that talks about sensitive people.  Roughly 20% of the population is sensitive.  It is a real, measurable and scientifically proven trait.  And yes, we do feel everything more deeply.  This has to do, in short, with mirror neurons.  The way that mirror neurons work is that if you watch someone else kick a soccer ball your brain will have activity in the same area that moves the leg etc.  Because even just watching someone else do something, your brain processes the movements and so forth, so you feel a tiny fraction of what they are doing or feeling.  

They've done lots of research that I won't bore you with here, that proves that highly sensitive people have much more activity in their mirror neurons.  What does that mean?  That means that when you tell us a sad story, we empathize much more deeply than 80% of the population.  We really do feel it more.  You can read more about her book and blogs on the Highly Sensitive Person Website.

What that means for me is I feel everything so intensely that it often overflows or overwhelms me.  In the last few weeks I've been struggling to re-contextualize many of the struggles I've had all my life with this new knowledge that I'm not just "weak" or "too sensitive", that I'm actually processing and feeling more than 80% of my fellow men.  So, I'm frequently up crying about a story that someone has told me, hours after they've forgotten it.  I have trouble sleeping during this time of intense injustice and death.  I fear for the lives of everyone struggling with the unseen menace of Covid-19 and the insidious disease of Racism.  And I feel it all so very deeply that I can't sleep.  

So, I must do something. I often carry the burdens of other people's sadness long after it's healthy for me to do so.  I wrote about a person I met only once and couldn't stop thinking about in my post The Loneliness of a Stranger.  Often I feel sad for people I can't help.  I worry about people I'll never see again.  And I sometimes catch myself feeling glum about abandoned objects.  I personify them and feel sad for their loneliness.  It's too much.  So I write.  I write about the sadness and I write about hope.

I've written multiple posts about the heart and the heaviness that can live there.  I've written The Heart is the Final Frontier, and When a Glass Heart Shatters, and Mending a Heart of Glass.  In those I talk of hardships and how I dealt with them, the way I grieved and my new theory that it takes nine months to rebuild and repair a heart and I think it's no coincidence that it's the same amount of time it takes to create a brand new heart.

I've written of hardships but also of hope, of love and support.  I wrote about rekindling broken dreams in Stars in the Darkness.  

I make art with my heartbreak.  If it helps one person feel less alone it was worth sharing.  If it is only read by me, but it allows me to sleep, it's worth writing.  

And lately I've decided to try to make more positive beautiful things to fill the world with joy.  Don't get me wrong, I'll still write about sadness and darkness.  I think toxic positivity is a blight.  It denies us the true depth of feelings and the ability to heal through grief and sitting with and working through our sadness.  You cannot just plaster a smile on some things and pretend you don't need to feel.  It's not healthy or productive.  But that being said, while I do need to cry and grieve, and talk about my sorrows, I always want there to be hope.  Just like I wrote poetically about the journey through happiness, depression and back in Winter Without Happiness.  I still talk about the darkness, but I don't leave it there, I try to always end with hope.

So, of late, I have been trying to fill the world with hope and joy and beauty.  I'm trying to take my fears and my anxieties and acknowledge them but gently put them to the side and make beautiful things anyway.  I've been trying to write a book and it's hard and I'm nervous about not being good enough.  What if I don't do the story justice?  What if I write it poorly?  What if I don't portray my characters fairly?  What if I really don't have any idea what I'm doing and it all fails horribly?  

This is my writing buddy, the opossum named Strach.  He looks capable doesn't he?

If you had to characterize my inner fears and nature as an animal, I'm an opossum.  I'm a terrified baby opossum, with my mouth open swaying back and forth from terror.  About to pass out from fright.  It's not pretty.  It's pathetic really (in a melodramatic and slightly comical way).  So I ordered myself a tiny plush opossum friend to sit beside my computer when I try to write.  I've named him Strach, the Czech word for fear.  Whenever I get nervous I look at Strach and I pet him nicely, talking to him softly with compassion, and I reassure him and my fears, and then I keep writing. 

And this is so common for all creatives to have crippling doubts and horrible unspoken fears of unworthiness.  I've been trying to address this inner fear, this inner critic, this inner doubter with calm logic.  Because these overwhelming fears don't hold up with logic.  What if I can't do justice to the story?  Then I will make edits until I do.  What if I write it poorly?  I will learn to write better through practice and I'll make edits.  What if I don't portray my characters fairly?  I'll have readers help tell me how they feel and I'll write a second draft.  What if I really don't have any idea what I'm doing and it all fails horribly?  I can only fail if I stop trying.  I'll learn what I don't currently know and keep working on it til it works.  I like to address these because there's usually a secret fear under those that comes out last.  For instance, it'll go something like.  What if I'll never be good enough?  Or, I don't know anything!  And you feel so much better if you say, I am good enough to try and I'll keep learning til I get there.  Or, I know lots of things!  And I can always learn more.

So, I'm trying to gently set aside fear and anxiety and hurt and write of hope and beauty.  I'm trying to make art with all the broken pieces of my heart.  

And if it takes me an entire lifetime of creating beautiful things to make up for the pain and sorrow I've witnessed, then it will be a life well lived.  

In Defense of a Murder of Crows

I read an article today that denounced the phrase Murder of Crows in particular and all other "absurd" words for groups of animals. While I accept that some of these terms, venery, dating from the Middle Ages, may in fact be antiquated I had several points at which I did not agree with the article. If you are interested you may find the original article here.

"Squamish 2015-01-11 064-LR" by jamesabbott1963 is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 

The first question Mr. Nicholas Lund asks is whether anyone actually uses these terms, because he contends that he has never heard them used. I've not going to sit here and argue that everyone uses all the plural animal nouns all the time.  However, if the author has never heard any grouping words for animals used aside from flock and herd, I would say he hasn't been talking to enough people in the world. I've heard plenty of them used by real people in all seriousness including the following terms: 

· Bats: colony 

· Bees: hive, swarm 

· Camels: caravan, train, or herd 

· Crows: murder 

· Dogs: litter (of puppies), pack (in the wild), 

· Dolphins: pod 

· Geese: gaggle 

· Lions: pride 

· Porpoises: pod, school 

· Prairie dogs: colonies 

· Rabbits: colony, nest, warren 

· Whales: pod 

· Wolves: pack 

· Vipers: nest 

Now, I agree that are some incredibly odd terms for specific animals are not used in normal parlance. I admit that I've never heard someone refer to a collective group of bears as a sleuth or rhinos as a stubbornness. But then, I also don't live in a place where I run into wild groups of rhinos. If I was late to work because a group of rhinos parked themselves in the road I could reasonably call them a stubbornness because it would describe the belligerent way that they collectively made my morning more difficult. Luckily, that has never happened to me in the Southwestern United States. But I have personally referred to bees as a hive and swarm, and geese as a gaggle, and crows as a murder, and I've heard plenty of other people do so. 

A small murder perched on a wire. - "Evening chat" by -Niloy- is licensed under CC BY 2.0 

Mr. Lund tries to argue that scientists don't use them and therefore nobody really does. That's simply not an accurate sampling of the population. It might prove that scientists don't use those terms but it doesn't answer his posed question: 

Are there actual people in the real world who use special group names for certain species? Or is there just one nerd in an office somewhere with a field guide in one hand and a dictionary in the other, matching each species with a cute little term and laughing maniacally when the world collectively coos over the pairing? 

After he proves that scientists don't use terms of venery he claims that they exist only in the "world of bar trivia," where, "without real-world applications" they are "just morsels of linguistic candy rotting cavities into our scientific integrity".  I argue that trivia is not really the point of these group names. I don't argue that the terms have no scientific value. My problem is in the vehemence with which he believes the words should be removed from the English language. He proposed we replace them with bland but more scientific words like group.

No doubt calling this crow a visitor or a friend is also a transgression against the purity of scientific integrity but I like the photographer's point of view - "Crow visitor" by Fernettes is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 

Would you really say... "Oh look at this group of jellyfish on the beach"?  You'd probably at least say this whole group, or, look at all of these jellyfish or, look there's thousands of jellyfish!  Because using the word group alone is too boring and entirely lacking in descriptive power. If thousands of jellyfish were surrounding a boat that I happened to be floating in, and they were slapping into the sides with every swell of water that lapped against the edges of my boat, I would probably call them a smack in that case too. I'd probably lean over the edge watch them smack into the boat, look further out and see an endless flotilla of them and say "Oh my God there's a smack of jellyfish out here, look!" Maybe it would come out slightly differently, but I would bet you substantial money that I would not say "look a GROUP of jellyfish!" 

Language is sometimes about tone and sometimes about feeling. And you can't convey those things with the word group.  I'm not arguing that some of these other words, these terms of venery, have any scientific value.  I merely believe that they have literary and poetic value.

Could you really capture the mood and tone of this moment by describing it as a group of three crows on a  roof?  I contend that you cannot. - "Cathedral of Our Lady" by marikoen is licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0 

I personally have not heard people say "a group of crows". I admit that I'm unusual and have unusual preferences, but it would stand out to me if people said group, because it would not be my preferred word for this context. I don't hear people use this. I've heard them use an exact count of the crows or the word flock, but honestly, I've heard many, many people refer to crows as a murder. Now, you could use the work flock, or group, sure. It just seems to me that most people don't do so, because it doesn't convey as much feeling. 

Is this just a crow or is this a solitary crow?  Words matter even if there is no scientific value to that distinction. - "as the crow flies" by Simon Clarke is licensed under CC BY-ND 4.0 

Let me illustrate my point by telling you about the same morning in two different ways.  Firstly, using boring, strictly factual language and then again using poetic language Mr. Lund would disapprove of. 

Version A. 

I drove to work and I arrived about a minute late and there was this group of crows in my parking spot. I was briefly worried about hitting them while I parked, but I was also late. They scattered. Then I went inside and remembered it was my 90 day review. 

Version B. 

I drove to work this morning and arrived about a minute late. As I pulled into the parking lot there was a murder of crows waiting for me in my normal spot. I was ONLY a minute late but I was afraid to run over them, and then again, I was already late, so I hesitated briefly. I had this ominous feeling as their dark wings took to the sky and then I remembered as I looked over my shoulder at them on the way into the building that today was my 90 day review. 

Which version of my story conveys more of my internal emotional goings on? The one where I say group of crows and leave it to strict facts? There is nothing scientific about either story, but the story that contains the offensive "linguistic candy rotting cavities into our scientific integrity" is actually a much better story about my morning and how I felt about it. And despite his assertions, my poetic story has done no damage to any actual scientific integrity. 

If I called this a flurry of crows you would know what I meant, even if it's not the accepted collective noun for crows. - "as the crow flies" by Simon Clarke is licensed under CC BY-ND 4.0 

Another of his points is that these terms, being that they only exist in the world of bar trivia, could easily be replaced with more interesting and scientific facts. He is right in a way. Trivia could be more interesting and scientific (such as the shape of wombat poop). However, the way that I use the terms for different animals is not in a field of trivia, it's in how I actually describe things in my world. And I would personally much rather have a poetic discussion about the things I actually see and experience in the world than a factual one about the shape of wombat fecal matter, regardless of how unusual it may be. Sorry, Mr. Lund, I think replacing venery with fecal facts is simply not the way to go. 

Then there is the point in which he mentions that "I just don’t see enough groups of other animals to need more words". Mr. Lund, I am ashamed. You don't see any other animals than cows and birds?  You seriously don't need any other words than herd and flock?  Scientist, lifelong birder, or not, if he doesn't see enough groups of other animals to need other words than flock, herd, and group, I suggest he doesn't see enough animals. Or perhaps he does and he is simply not using English in an interesting enough way. Does he call dogs in a plural form a herd or a group?  Does he refer to swarms of bees as groups?  He can continue doing as he chooses of course. But I think his language is lacking if he uses strictly and only the words, flock, herd and group for all animals that he sees or talks about.

He concedes that "certain terms of venery have made the transition from factoid to actual phrase. Pod of whales. Troop of monkeys. Gaggle of geese. Pack of wolves."  That almost makes this article worse for me.  It seems to me that Mr. Lund is saying, you can use terms that don't irritate me, but if it irritates me I will say that you are morally corrupting our scientific integrity with your choice of words.  Do tell, Mr. Lund, when does something gain enough strength in popularity for you to deem it an "actual phrase" and allow us, in your great magnanimity to use it as part of the English language?

I will now concede that I personally think some of the terms are silly.  I do not see why anyone would refer to a roiling mass of rattlesnakes as a rhumba, I think it disgraces the dance and does not adequately convey the horror of such a mass of snakes.  I might even ask someone why they thought that was a good word for it, after I'd run a sufficiently safe distance from said coil of snakes.  But I think it's more a transgression against poetry than it is against science.  I don't need to know or have ever heard anyone refer to rattlesnakes as a rhumba to know that they are referring to a plurality of snakes I don't want to be near.  That's the thing about terms of venery, they mostly denote collective nouns rather than a single rattlesnake.  And I don't have to know or agree with the term to understand what is being conveyed. 

"Caw!" by molajen is licensed under CC BY 2.0 

All of this aside, I clearly disagree with Mr. Lund, but he may do as he likes.  He is entitled to his opinions of the proper way to use English terms, however much I disagree with them. However, he continues with his article and he takes it one step too far for me. 

At the end of his article he is clearly worked up about the sort of people who try to rot our collective scientific integrity with such linguistic candy. He says that the next time someone tells him a term of venery he will respond with: 

“Did you know anyone who believes that is part of a ‘gaggle of gullibles’?" 

Telling people they are gullible for using a term you don't like is technically neither true nor nice. Mr. Lund could say they are foolish, or perhaps sentimental, but he doesn't appear to have the aptitude for understanding how to use words that he deems too whimsical. Or, for that matter, patience for anyone who is not on his wavelength of morally upstanding scientific integrity.

Don't get me wrong, I am by no means perfect.  I have my particular veiwpoints that I defend with more vehemence than necessary.  I will own that there are words I simply hate.  I am fairly certain, however, that I have never told anyone they are gullible for using a real word that I hate.  I just cringe a little and try to move on.  

People who use words and phrases you don't like are not gullible.  They would only be gullible, Mr. Lund, if they believed you when and if you responded to them with made up terms of venery, as you did at the start of your article, specifically to mock them. I'm afraid, however, that to deliberately mislead them and mock them for things that are not false, simply not to your liking, would cost you your moral high ground, your scientific integrity, and lastly, Sir, I'm afraid, that if you do that intentionally, you're just being an ass. A solitary one.

A rather solitary, moody-looking fellow.  I think he is pontificating on some point dear to his heart. - "Gangsta Crow" by www.charlesthompsonphotography.com is licensed under CC BY 2.0 

I Am Purple

Recently, in the process of working through The Artist's Way, I was asked to do a bit of self-reflective writing.  The task was to pick a colour and write about yourself as that colour.  I picked my favorite colour and was really surprised by how much this writing task spoke to me.  This is what I wrote:


I am purple.  

I am red and blue simultaneously. I'm Royal, rare, at times misunderstood or undervalued. I'm work to understand or create but I'm elegant. I'm distinguished. I'm irises, dreams, warm grapes in the summer.

Purple Iris photo by Melinda Wilson 

I'm complicated, a blend of hot and cold mixed with abandon and passion. I'm quiet and ferocious by turns. I'm the subtle smell of lilacs and the intoxicating smell of lavender. I'm curling Iris petals and unfurling, lavender, velvety roses.

I'm refined and a wild spirit. I'm ethereal, magical and indefinable. I'm bold and shy. I'm the sort of complex that dusk and magic are made of. Real and romantic.

Purple Irises in Colonial Williamsburg photo by Melinda Wilson

I'm a wild Violet growing amidst the cracks of a sidewalk. I'm an Iris in a formal bed lining the path to an ancient stone Manor house. I'm immutable stained glass in a cathedral and fleeting hues in a sunset over the ocean.

I'm plums with sour skin and sweet flesh. Rich smooth color. I'm silk, velvet and satin. I'm flowers and fairytales. I'm fragile hope and vibrant strength.

Purple Flower in Geneva by Melinda Wilson

Let's be Old Fashioned Anglo-Saxons...

and write poetry.

That is, I was thinking there should be more poetry done in the Anglo-Saxon style using kenning.  Recently, I was thinking about how much fun it is to describe things in lengthy poetic phrases.  My favorite from reading Anglo-Saxon poetry, oh so many years ago, was the way they described the sea as the whale's road.

So, naturally, when this sprang to mind recently I decided I should write my own poem using kenning. Oh right, I haven't defined it yet and you may not wish to look it up just now, being as eager as you are, I am sure, to read my poem.  So, I'll just define it for you.  Kenning is when you use a poetic phrase to describe a word instead of just using that word.  Rather than saying you rowed a boat across the sea you would say that you rowed a boat across the whale's road.  A kenning for dragon would be fire-breather.  It's not a difficult poetic concept, nothing like conforming to a strict meter.  However, I think it's a lovely literary device.

Right, so now that we've defined kenning, I won't keep you in suspense any longer.  I know you are all dying to hear a little Anglo-Saxon styled poetry.  What would your day be without it?  Bleak.  I know.  Don't worry, I understand your concern about the dearth of kenning in modern society.  So, without further ado, here is the word pile of the day:

I make myself comfortable in the ocean's sand-box;
As the birds' highway lifts my hair in playful delight.
I build a tan grainy castle for the rolling water to devour;
While my toes find freedom from their leather plight,
My fingers find purpose in their tiny ground-pebble creations;
And my face grows warm with smiles in the day's ending light.

On Talking to Dogs and Dads

After years of living with dogs, I have observed that they are very similar to my Dad in a few too many ways.  One of the most notable ways is how it's best to communicate with them.

First, you must address them by their name.  Dad, Boys, Rocky, etc.  This is so that they know that you are talking to them and not the wall.  So that they know you aren't talking aloud in an effort to amuse yourself by composing poetry to the void.

Second, you must use short, simple, single-word verbal commands.  Nothing too complicated or the words might lose potency and begin to sound like more poetry to the void.

For instance, you say, "Boys, stay" so the dogs know that whatever happens next they aren't supposed to move.  Or you say, "Dad, look" so he knows the paper you are waving in his direction is meant for his inspection.

Now, over the years, I've taught my Dad and dogs some unusual commands.  I've taught my dogs the command "Boys, smell," which means that they are allowed to smell but not eat any item I am about to present to them.  And my Dad I have taught "Dad, volume," so that he knows to turn the volume down or up on the TV if it's not correct.

But it's important to remember that all dogs and Dads have limitations.  There will be some tricks that you simply cannot train your dogs or Dad to do.  My Dad cannot be trained to put a twist tie around the garbage bag if he takes it out.  My dogs cannot be trained to not chase the cat when she runs.

There is always the chance that they will forget old commands when they are too excited to focus.  Intense sports may make Dad forget what volume even means for a second or two and the presence of a leash will make my dogs forget what sit means.

But a well-trained dog is not perfect, just one that tries hard to please.  A good and well-trained dog sometimes remembers the right commands, but always remembers that love comes first and the rest is simply not that important.  The same goes for Dads.  Nobody is perfect but love makes all the difference.

With Love to my Dad and all my dogs.

Welcome Sweet Shrouding Fog of Unknown Futures

Goodnight World,

Rest in the peaceful shroud of unknown tomorrows.  May the languid winds of unformed futures gently smooth your weary brow.  Too long have you worried over the unnamed monsters of the morrow; turning desperately this way and that to thwart them.  Morning's harsh light may part the mist and reveal to you the fearful outlines of Scylla and Charybdis.  But here, now, in these final hours of rest welcome the sweet shrouding fog of unknown futures.  Scylla's slashing teeth cannot steal your slumber from you.  Neither can Charybdis change your course this final night of sightless sleep.  Inevitable fate awaits you, World, one man, or even many being powerless to change it.  Fate, ah The Fates, there is no room for fear in the unfamiliar future they have fixed for you.  Mist will rise, the shroud will part and tomorrow you will stride forth boldly into the fray, the fight, the future.  Tomorrow, deeds having been done, the course of the future will unfurl before you in all its fury.  Scylla and Charybdis will greet you and the terrible consequences of the course set before you will be plain to see.  Tonight, embrace the twilight of unrevealed tribulations.  Lay fear aside, thank all the stars that you were not born into Cassandra's curse and gather the dusk around you in the final slumber in the blissfully unknown future ahead of you.

The Sordid History of Couplets

How one line got lonely and started a relationship with another line.  
   

Photo via Flickr - "Poems" by Pascal Maramis

The Couplet was once just a lonely sentence
Whose thought didn't quite seem ended.
He thought he'd date the following line
Who thought that he looked mighty fine.
But their relationship was quickly ended
the moment the bad poet penned it.
For a lonely couplet is only truly fine
When it's made to be paired in perfect rhyme
Not when it starts a love affair
Out of loneliness and lack of punctuation.

Is brevity a virtue?

Concise.  Pah.  I couldn't be concise to save my life.  What other people can say in two words I feel requires so many more.  I turn phrases into sentences, sentences into paragraphs, and paragraphs into pages of ramblings, rants and randomness.  I am verbose.  And that perplexes me actually, because I'm quite the opposite in real life.  In person, in real life face-to-face situations I'm quiet.  No, I'm worse than quiet, I'm down right reticent.  Maybe my writing style just makes up for the cautious nature of my quiet personality.  But then is this really such a bad thing?  All through school they try to tell you that you need to be as concise as possible.  But some of the most beautifully written things are those that elaborate, in a great many words I might note, on the beauty of some minute detail that mere mortals have passed over unobserved.  Poets are not exactly concise, yet their writing is arguably far more worthy to read than the most concise documents with legal abruptness to their credit.  So why is concise writing considered such a virtue?

If a picture is worth one thousand words and you aren't using pictures and don't use one thousand words... are you really communicating? Just a thought.

If you are trying to be scientific then yes, brevity is admirable.  You lay out the facts in a logical and clear way that communicates all the important points neatly and concisely.  Well done, you can write a brief report and make charts; but I will argue that this is not what real writing is all about.  Writing is not about merely communicating facts it is about telling stories and communicating feelings.  And stating facts concisely does not make for interesting reading.  Every love story ever told can be condensed into this, two people met each other and fell in love.  That is not interesting.  Yet, we are continually drawn to love stories.  Why is that?  We are drawn to them because we love to watch the way they unfold.  Sure, they all start the same way, with two people who discover that the other person is unlike anyone they've ever met and they can no longer see themselves with anyone else.  But what we really want to know are all the details.  Why it works for them, how they respond to each other and difficult situations, how they work through the struggles that face every couple.  Love brings out the very best and very worst in people and we want to be made to feel for the characters with every delicious word of their story.

Sometimes a sentence just isn't enough to capture the depth of feeling.  Sure you can simply state, I'm angry, or I love you, and leave it at that.  The Emperor of Brevity will no doubt knight you on the spot.  I will argue that this is not enough.  Why you feel that way is just as important as the fact that you do.  The beauty of language is that it allows you to communicate with great variety and depth everything you feel and think.  You have an entire language or two, or three if you're feeling ambitious, to draw words and concepts from to express your thoughts.  You have the ability to use all of the rich and subtle variations of thousands of years of vocabulary to put your feelings into words that express them exactly and beautifully.  Do not cheat them of this richness by believing that brevity is a virtue. 

Scholars may opine that brevity is best.  They may look down in haughty disdain on those of us that cannot reduce our words into scientifically precise sentences.  Yet, I would challenge them to argue that the statement I love you, can in any way compare favorably to an entire love letter.  I would bet they cannot do so convincingly.  No, no, words are a delicious thing and I believe they were meant to be devoured in great quantities.  Let others strive to be concise.  I think I'll keep my words.