Monthly Archives: July 2011

renewing old strengths

graffiti of a small green-eyed child reading a book, with a stack of books next to her; the title of the book reads, "the more I read/the more I know"This morning we just had clean, flush air that was bulbous and bright with the early morning sun — the light reflects off the windows in the houses across the bay, on Belvedere Island, and they look like talismans, no, like beacons. No animal friends, though — well, lots and lots of birds, always.

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Writing the Flood is on Saturday, 7/23 this month — want to join us and give some time to your writing?

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prompts for a summer Friday

graffiti of the Toronto skylinesometimes, when resolve arrives, there’s little left to say.

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This month’s Writing the Flood is going to be on 7/23 — can you join us?

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letting ourselves fly

spray painted graffiti of the word "Hero"Yesterday it was skunks. Today it was a fresh new tennis ball near the courts, just waiting for a ball-loving puppy to come upon it and pounce. What a good life.

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Eleanor Roosevelt is quoted as having said, Do one thing every day that scares you. There are several things on my plate right now that I’ve been putting off for years, that terrify me (book proposals, grad school, growing the workshops, building relationship with family — you know, little things). How do you step up to positive action that scares you?

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everything is new

graffiti with the text, "Don't be afraid of art / Don't be afraid your mind"This morning, Sophie and I dodged a bullet — on our way back home from our short walk, while she was being very good and heeling next to my right side (waiting for the next bunch of treats I’d offer her as a thank you), I heard a rustling in the blackberry brush beside us to my left. Sophie may have heard it, too, or she may have been more interested in the possibility of treats. In any case, she stayed right next to me, and as we walked past the rustling, I looked over to the left, and there was a whole family of skunks — two adults at least, and I thought I heard more rustling behind them. As much as part of me wanted to hang out for a moment and get a closer look, the louder and more adrenaline-y part of me hustled us on down the road. I fed Sophie my whole hand-full of treats, letting the shot of panic ease out of my muscles. Whew.

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Yesterday we went for a long hike, the whole family, and I thought about how all of this is new for Sophie. She’s just about 7 months now; if she were a human baby, of course, she’d barely be out of her parent’s arms! Here we were, exploring trails, eucalyptus groves, shrubby vistas — every inch of it brand new to her. She shows all of her interest and enthusiasm, puts her whole body into it, her nose to the ground, her tail up and wagging. She bounds over to and pounces on the things she wants to see, or she trots, more cautious, watching with intent and focus.

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story & cognitive dissonance

poster graffiti -- a padlock with the words, 'You are the key'The words are quiet in me right now. Lots of possibility pushing its way around toward manifesting, which means commitment, which means change.

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The foghorns are lowing all around us; blue sky above but the Golden Gate is thick and grey. Did you see any fireworks last night? From the little church that sits above our apt building, we could see some from Sausalito as well as the ones over in San Francisco. Sophie wasn’t sure what to do with the loud noises, with the strange noisy mechanical birds that were flying low overhead. Still, though, she was more interested in the dog that another family had brought up with them.

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What about Interdependence Day?

mural of African-American boys and girls playing instruments with joy!There’s a little bit of cool outside right now — the last few days have been so hot, I’m reveling in this bit of mist and ease.

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I’m rereading Jeanette Winterson’s Art Objects: Essays on Ecstasy and Effrontery in bits and starts. Last night I got back to this section: Continue reading

re-storying rape

graffiti from AU: a holy ET with the sacred heart ...In my dream, there was a part of myself I could trust — like, a role that part of me played; but I could trust me when I was in that role, could trust my instincts, trust my gut.

That dream is feeding me today: I’m listening for that part inside.

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small steps

graffiti on a post: where do you want to start?It’s supposed to be 80 degrees in Oakland today — only in the low 60s in Dublin (Ireland), though. We have to keep track of these things sometimes.

The puppy won’t settle. She thinks it’s time for breakfast, and keeps pushing at my hands. She finds a treat on the table, and responds to my Off, but then paws at my leg to give her the treat for doing a good job. Smartie.

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