These Things I Hold Dear

Response to Invite to Write #3

1. Trees
2. Books
3. The sound of rain hitting a porch roof
4. My mother's smile
5. Wooden porches
6. Hugging my boys
7. Slow kisses
8. Soft blankets and pillows
9. Coffee and long conversation
10. Sunsets (and rises)...hell, the sun in general
11. Music--doowap, jazz, classical, folk
12. Empty journals

It is difficult for me to find the sacred in things, aside from nature, but I have had sacred times, and those share some common elements.

Like porches.

My favorite pictures of people are of them on porches. We are so relaxed, viewing nature from under cover.

Twenty summers ago, I sat on porches in Matlacha with my mom, my Aunt Mary, and their friends. We'd fill lazy hours with coffee and long conversation. Those times were magical, watching the sun rise and set over the water. We filled each other's souls with compassion and comraderie, giving voice to our fears and dreams, and sharing wisdom.

I was in my late teens, fresh from the wounds of becoming a teen mom, watching my college dreams fall off me. I struggled with the pressure of burgeoning adulthood. I was daunted by the weight of learning to be responsible for my own life, and now I was two.

The next twenty years were a flurry of decisions. I married a friend who was also terrified of growing up. Together, we made a life filled with equal measure of laughter and laundry, bills and beer, our weekends filled with football and family. This summer, we divorced, and like the last time my life radically changed, I found myself on a porch.

Reeling from the heartache of betrayal, I found a match. Literally, on match.com. We spend lazy days on his porch, watching the sun rise and set over the water, filling each other's hearts with wit and wisdom, telling of dreams deferred, sharing the contents of our broken hearts, and healing our fragile souls.

This is my favorite part of our relationship. Coffee in the morning to scotch and tea at night, sometimes listening to old country music, most times engaged in the music of the country, the frogs and crickets, the mullet splashing, the rain on the metal roof.

There are so many moments when, cigarette in hand, he brings his arm to his forehead, in the midst of making a point, that he reminds me so much of those magical women, in those magical days. I never dreamed I'd share such sacred time with a man.

It's funny how life speaks in rhyme, if we listen.

My First Best Friend

Response to Your Scared List- Invitation #3

I love the definition of sacred provided in the invite. I was struggling with the word, and when I looked it up to try and distinguish it from special, four out of seven of the definitions I found had religious connotation. I know that wasn't specifically the intent of the Brazen who posted, so I revisited the post and was delighted to see "esteemed or held especially dear." It helped me get in the mindset and relax, instead of getting hung up on the word. Soon, I was able to generate quite a list. Here's the paired down version.

Family- my son, my husband
Loving parents, both still alive. I'm so grateful.
Words & Writing
Soothing feeling I get being by the water
Thanksgiving Dinners
My sister
The house with o-pen windows on a cool fall or winter day
Our 10th anniversary stay at the White Orchid Inn
Growing up with living grandparents
My grandma's diamond wedding band, which is now gone.
Completing my dissertation
Fall holidays in Massachusetts with my cousins
My curly hair
My thumb ring
Two in depth projects I did for school- one in undergrad with my grandpa, one in grad school with my dad.

I waited for my list to speak to me. I could really write about any of these people, places, things, and events. But I sat with my list for a bit, as the prompt urged us to do. Then, planning to try and write today I opened my computer and checked in on Facebook to find this:

My sister, Jennifer, was speaking to me. She posted this in celebration of our mom's 69th birthday today. It's a photo of the three of us at her wedding a couple of years ago. Her friends were the photographers, so they caught a lot of the "behind the scenes" moments like this one.  I've alluded to my sister time and again in my writing. But I realized, as sacred as our relationship is to me I've never devoted a piece to her. I cannot imagine my life without her. She is my sister and my best friend. We live a couple of states away, she in North Carolina, me in Florida. It's hard to see each other often. It's been years since we have lived close enough to see each other daily or even weekly, and it's tough. After we both finished college (she was 3 years ahead of me in school) she followed my husband and me up to Orlando, and we even lived together - the three of us with roommates- for a couple of years. I was really blessed to have her as my sister, best friend, and my roommate during those years.

She's always been a huge part of Jacob's life too. With the two of us so close, how could she not be! When he was really young, she was single, so when we got together it was all about him. They forged something pretty special sharing a love for music and media, and all kinds of things. When you consider that Paul and I have been together since we were teenagers, it's almost as though he and Jen are brother and sister too. 

We share a love for pop culture- she's way more intense than I am. But we love inserting music and movie lines into any conversation when the opportunity presents itself, and there are certain movies Paul won't even watch with us anymore because we recite all the lines. One of our favorites of course is from Parenthood. "Don't hurt my sister!" See below.

I could write endless stories of all kinds about my sister and me. But today, I'm going to go way back.

Key flashback music...

I'm not sure how old we were, but when my sister was in late middle school and high school, she was a tough cookie. She gave my parents (mostly my mom) a run for their money. I don't remember her doing anything particularly "bad" like we think of when we think of kids gone wild (probably because I was younger and looked up to her). She just fought with my mom so much during those years, and there was a lot of door slamming and "I hate you!" I've always been a peacekeeper. I didn't like to make my parents mad, and I didn't like it when my parents were upset with her. She was my big sister.

We lived in a two story colonial home on Long Island (a standard I had a difficult time letting go of in early adulthood). It was a great house on a half an acre. I could write chapters about our childhood there, but that's for another time. There was a steep staircase from the front hallway all the way up to the second floor where all the bedrooms were. On the left was the master suite. Just across from the stairs was our bathroom, and then to the right of the stairs was Jen's room. Mine was in between her room and the bathroom. We were separated only by a small linen closet. Often, we would sneak over to each other when we were supposed to be sleeping or in our rooms separated by our dad after a round of sibling bickering.

One night, I can't recall how old we were exactly, shit had really hit the fan. Jen was so mad at my parents, not sure if it was one or both of them. She was convinced she had to get out of there, and started packing a bag. When I asked her what she was doing, she told me she was running away. Whatever it is angry pre-teens say when they've had it with their parents, her explanation to me was probably similar. I wonder if she remembers why she wanted to leave. Anyway, needless to say I was not okay with this plan. I was young enough to believe she would go, and naive enough not to understand the likelihood she'd be right back home in no time even if she did. Funny looking back, I never told my parents. I don't recall if she swore me to secrecy (likely) or if I was just convinced I could keep her from leaving. Instead of squealing, I went to my own room to create what might possibly have been my first piece of persuasive writing!

Though I don't remember exactly what I wrote in my note to her, I know I told her I really didn't want her to leave and I couldn't live without her. I wanted her to know I would miss her if she left. I slipped the note under her door, and scrambled back to my room. Usually, when I did that I would wait by my door and listen or watch to see if she took it and read it. This time was no different. I sat in the doorway with my door cracked, and peeped around the corner to the crack at the bottom of her door to see if she got it. Within a few minutes she opened her door and looked over to mine. She waved me in and I scampered into her room and cried begging her not to go. She hugged me tight in the motherly way a big sister does, and told me she wouldn't leave. Mission accomplished.

I wish to G-d I still had the actual note, but as kids we never think of holding onto the artifacts that make up our personal histories. My mom was pretty distraught when we left our home and moved to Florida, so she pretty much left us to pack up our own rooms. I know I got rid of a lot of things I wish I had now. Oh well, it is what it is.

It's funny, I never listed my sister as a sponsor of my literacy*, but she really was. From reading to me before I could read on my own, to writing notes back and forth, she definitely was an early sponsor. She just might have been my first authentic audience. I'm remiss in that I couldn't tell this story with more detail, but it was the sentiment that demonstrated the sacredness of the relationship I have with my sister. I'm reminded I have lots of stories to tell about our escapades. She just might be biting her nails right now. (Kid sister snickers with devilish delight.)

Here's a few oldies for fun... I have to dig through archives to find some from the ages we were in this story. Not sure I even have any.

 

*Sponsors of literacy is from the work of Deborah Brandt. The link above is a wikipedia short for a brief explanation. To read more academic work by Brandt, I highly recommend this paper or her book, Literacy and Learning: Reflections on Writing, Reading, and Society.

Cabin in the Blue Ridge

by Helen Sadler

Response to Invitation #3

As it tends to happen, many things converged to create this particular piece of writing. I started with my sacred list, which ended up double the size it needed to be. Here is a sampling:

1. pink quartz chunk of rock
2. cabin in North Carolina
3. Simon and Garfunkel's Bookends album
4. Ryman Auditorium
5. Longwood Park in Macedonia, Ohio
6. James Taylor's Hourglass album
7. vision I had in Cuyahoga National Park, August 1994
8. Common Boundary conferences 1993-97
9. Acoma Pueblo in New Mexico
10. labyrinth in Mesopotamia, Ohio
11. Ruby and diamond wedding ring
12. Van Gogh's art

After "listening to my list," I made a couple of false starts. But it was when I was reading about songwriting and listening to my new Nashville Cats album, I heard what I needed to do.

I have been inspired by two things: Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash singing "Girl from the North Country," and my friend Natalie's version of a song by Nirvana that she rewrote as a song about teaching writing.

The words to "Girl from the North Country" can be found here, and is based on a ballad from the Middle Ages "Scarborough Fair" (yes, the same one Simon and Garfunkel did. For more info, read here.)  I have expanded it a bit, as I was writing about a place that I visited many times and during different seasons. I wanted to capture the autumn, the summer, and the spring in that very reduced way that is required of songwriting. I believe I've succeeded in giving certain images. To further the "tone," I have included Roseanne Cash singing the Dylan song below, since her voice feels like the way I hear this in my head. (Song begins around 1:40, but it is worth hearing what she has to say about the song and her father.)

If you're traveling up the Blue Ridge way
where the mountains and the sky combine
remember me to a beloved cabin there
it once was a sacred place of mine.

If you go when the cool autumn falls
when reds and yellows and oranges explode
sit on the porch and listen to loons call
the glowing twilight on the river slowed.

Well, if you go when the summer shines bright
the glorious goldenrod in flawless fellowship 
rhododendrons crowd the woods, pink and white
canoes on the river through the rapids slip.

Please see if the giant elm is there
blackberry bushes in reach for a treat.
Wild turkey families running everywhere.
Indigo buntings fast as a heartbeat.

If you go as the winter snows decrease
when the river rises and sometimes floods
settle inside by the hearth for peace
patiently wait for the trees to share buds.

I'm a-wondering if the proud chimneys still stand
If the spring water relies fresh and clear
I visit in my dreams.
I long to be near.

So, if you're traveling up the Blue Ridge way
where the mountains and the sky combine
remember me to a beloved cabin there
it once was a sacred place of mine.

These Things

Response to Invitation to Write #3

by Annmarie Ferry

For our third invitation to write, we were charged with making a list of at least 12 things that are sacred to us, then reflect on it for a while, let it sink in to see what inspiration it would bring. I made a list, thought about the list, re-read the list, revised the list, then finally settled on the unranked list below.  It’s funny and creepy at the same time that the number that I can pare it down to is 13. That, believe it or not, is my family’s go-to lucky number. It has been the number on every jersey each kid has worn since they were little people.  As I look at the final list, I’m finding that most of the things I find sacred are not things at all, but intangibles. As for the tangible items on the list, their sacredness lies in what they symbolize and the memories they help move forward. Without that, they would just be objects.

Family (including my dog)

Alone time

Education

Relationships (even the dysfunctional ones; their value lies in the lessons they teach)

Altruism/Charity/Generosity

Financial stability

Spirituality

Home (not the physical space, but the feeling of home)

Wedding ring (because of what it symbolizes)

Our sex life

Calmness

Laughter

Pictures

I played with the list, trying to decide where it would lead my writing. Would it be a narrative, a fictional short story, a poem?  I didn't have to make that call. It decided it wanted to be a poem.

These Things

These things are sacred ---

The touch of my inamorato, 
exploring new ground or re-visiting familiar places, 
rekindling the slow-burning fire needed for survival.

The ring on my left hand circling eternity, 
holding within its stones and precious metal promises that keep us glued,
turn us into one,  facing the world together.

The photos that prove we were there, 
reminding me of where we started and roads we traveled, 
reveling in the memories that weave the fabric of our family.

The relationships I’ve had -- the good, bad, and indifferent,
for they all have taught me essential lessons in life, 
shaping me into the person you see today.

The sound of laughter filling my home over seemingly innocuous things, 
dancing through the halls, seeping into the walls, 
creating a palpable positive energy, a comfortable vibe.

The quiet of the morning before the world rapes my senses, 
robbing me of the calm I didn’t have as a child, 
the inner and outer peace I fight to maintain as an adult.

The education that didn’t stop with my degree, 
but became a thirst, a commitment to life-long learning, 
self-guided and informal, but valuable nonetheless.

The luxury of financial security, not for the things it buys, 
but for the peace of mind it brings, 
the opportunities for generosity it affords.

The spirituality I sometimes nurture, but often ignore, 
even when my soul cries out for attention, 
begging me to put aside the things of the world, just for a moment.

These are the sacred things.

Invitation to Write #3 -- Your Sacred List

Invitation to Write #3

This idea came directly from John Fox’s book Finding What You Didn’t Lose: Expressing Your Truth and Creativity Through Poem-Making.  Understand that this does NOT mean you are required to write a poem. I am posting the invitation directly from him, page 248 of his book. Just let it mean whatever it means to you.

Making Your Sacred List

The word “sacred,” according to the Oxford Universal Dictionary, means something “esteemed or held especially dear.” What do you hold dear? What do you set aside for yourself and God? You can touch and feel what is sacred. You can listen and talk with what is sacred. You can hold it close to your bones.

Is music sacred to you? Is your cat? A particular park bench? Hearing laughter? A pale pink horizon from a special hilltop.  Making love. A piece of antique jewelry from your grandmother. A friend. Your husband or wife.  Something you treasure from the earth that may sit on a home altar or special windowsill. Being with your child. Some objects blessed by the touch of someone dear. Someone you love who is far away. Someone you have grieved for. Cooking a meal. Painting. Making furniture. Helping someone. Doing your job. Is there a spot where you played as a child that still shines in your mind? Can you name that place?

Make a list of everyday things in your life; they do not have to extraordinary. Who and what blesses your life? Name what is sacred to you. This material may later become a poem. For now, just write down what you care about. The word “list” has roots in the word “listen”! Listen to your list.

List the names of at least TWELVE people, animals, plants, objects, events, experiences, places that are sacred to you.

After you write them down, let these sacred things live in you awhile. Feel them. Leave your list and then come back to it. Say these words or phrases to yourself. Take the feelings of your sacred things deep inside yourself. You’ll find poems. They will come to you. Trust what the unknown offers you.

Instructions for the Group: I am glad we are taking a little extra time for this, because the list making and writing will be two different events. Remember that you do not have to write a poem. When you post, please include your list for us (at least 12 items) so we can see your starting point.

This submission is due before September 8 meeting.  Have fun!