Seedlings in Stone

An InsideOut Gift

2009-11-24T17:10:00.007-05:00

InsideOut should be here very soon (IAM, December 2009). I feel like an anxious parent, waiting. In the meantime, here are some poems you can have if you like (just copy the html in the white box beneath the poem, and it's ready to go in your sidebar or post). I'll probably release about six more over the coming weeks. Poems are fun to have, to keep, to give. So here I am, sharing with you...

For more poem possibilities, scroll down the sidebar at InsideOut poems. And a Happy Thanksgiving to you.

Thanks, Unsolicited

2009-11-23T11:38:00.005-05:00

The pile was getting too high. Messy.

It was time to sort.

So I sat in silence and began. This-goes-here, that-goes-there.

In the middle of the pile, I found it. Simple brushstrokes. Raw line and color. Her painting asked nothing of me. I simply held it in my hands and looked. And looked.

This is my Thanksgiving, I thought. And in that moment, I did not feel the need to explain why. So I shall not, now, try.

Fall Abstract, by Sara, 12. Used with permission.

____

Come share your Thanksgiving reflection or tradition at HighCallingBlogs. Just drop your link in our comment box...

Sure, the Chanterelle

2009-11-19T22:01:00.010-05:00

Sometimes words escape me. Like tonight.

Then I reach back and find something written at another time...

...like this simple poem, which you will find in the upcoming collection, along with much longer poems of course. My dad (I know you're reading this! :) doubts that two or three lines qualify as poetry. I tease him, saying he hasn't read much haiku. He laughs back and says, "True."

To me, poetry is the capturing of something essential, emotional, full— regardless of how many words it takes to accomplish it. You don't have to agree with me; you can agree with him. My dad will be happy either way.

Here's the poem, which was written at the Fruits, Herbs & Spices (and the occasional snap pea and golden beet Twitter party...

Frilly skirted
chanterelle, how you
beckon, fling.

Holding the Umbrella photo, by L.L. Barkat.

POETRY FRIDAY:
Monica’s knowing
A Simple Country Girl’s She may be stumbling
Glynn’s Apple Pie, Late Harvest
Cindy’s An Extra… Ordinary… Life
Jennifer’s Bread…
nAncY’s fragrance
Maureen’s Love Uses Spices and Herbs
Kelly’s When I Grow Old
Eric’s Form of a Poem
HighCallingBlogs Fear of Seconds
Marcus's Serendipity
Jim's I can feel it, honest

SOME OF YOU ASKED:
Here are some answers about the poetry collection and cover... InsideOut

Which Cover Speaks to You?

2009-11-13T13:18:00.001-05:00

Take a stroll with me, and I will listen. The woods are quiet and we can take our time.

When you come to a clearing, look up and think. Is this the place? Is this how you feel when you are in my poems?

Maybe a darker scene will do? How does it feel? Right for the words you are used to from me?

Or perhaps this is a better place? Does it evoke the voice, as you remember it in my poems?

You might think about it this way too: which would you prefer to set on your bedside table, or hold in your hands? Tell me your thoughts, and I will listen. The International Arts Movement, as publisher, will listen too. Come stroll with me...

POETRY FRIDAY:
Tweetspeak's The Walled Garden of Spices & Herbs

Wordless Prayer

2009-11-11T10:03:00.011-05:00

It's part of our world, this violence, says Laura Boggess in response to the next chapter in Gerald May's Wisdom of Wilderness.

I sit at my keyboard, wish for something profound to say, to add to a hard but good conversation. Nothing comes.

Instead I remember a morning practice, born in desperation, when ordinary word-prayer seemed powerless to help me meet the days in an urban classroom that had no crayons, no paper, no math books, one tiny shelf of picture books, no teaching assistant, 30 kids (many with serious behavior issues).

I don't recall what started it exactly, the wordless prayer. Was it the day after Calvin, my psychotic student, dangled himself out the window, 200 feet above the empty blacktop playground? Or maybe it was the week the principal punched Maurice and Maurice's mother screamed and overturned a huge conference table against my pregnant belly. Perhaps it was when Ivan punched Billy (again), leaving blood on the floor. Could it have been after I shouted at the class (again) and emptied the garbage can onto linoleum and told them to pick it up, pick it all up?

I don't remember. What comes back is the desperation of those moments. I wasn't the only teacher shocked at the violence and deprivation in the school, shocked at how far I could be pushed emotionally. Any given day you could hear shouting up and down the halls. Violence begetting violence.

And then came the peach blush roses. One morning I walked out of my apartment, and a light sweet raspberry scent met my senses. I leaned down for as much time as I could spare from my impending commute and smelled those roses again and again. Their sweetness melted some kind of sorrow and hardness that had begun to be a constant companion. In my mind, I took them with me, a prayer for the day, a solace.

It would be nice to say I became Teacher of the Year after that. Or always compassionate. I still struggled. But the struggle changed. When violence would rise in the classroom, or even in my own heart, I would remember the roses, their soft blush, their raspberry scent. Each time I was faithful to remember them, the moments went better. God was in the roses, I think, giving me a wordless prayer, a way.

Blush Roses photo, by L.L. Barkat.

How Do You Write?

2009-11-06T08:15:00.003-05:00

I write in the dark...

and

I write despite...

Teahouse in Granada Spain, photo by L.L. Barkat.

POETRY FRIDAY:
Glynn’s David, Hillside
Kelly’s eve’s regret
Linda’s Redeemer/Lover
Monica’s Han and Leia On a Date
Bina’s Mrs. DeWinter’s Nighttime Honesty
nAncY’s meeley
Kelly’s tension
Laura’s Fruit
Maureen’s Woman in His Life
A Simple Country Girl’s Autumn Dance
Sojourner’s Adoration
Maureen’s Last Words with Her Executioner
Travelmom's Love
e.l.k.'s surface
Lorrie's Nite Nite at Cricket Creek

Want a Chance to Write at Beliefnet?

2009-11-04T09:27:00.009-05:00

Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places is going to be featured on Beliefnet in early December, thanks to the creative mind (and gracious heart) of Joan P. Ball, author of the upcoming book Flirting with Faith: My Spiritual Journey from Atheism to a Faith-Filled Life.

If you post about Stone Crossings between now and then and drop your post link here (or there) so we don't miss you, you'll get a chance to be featured on Beliefnet. Five posts will be chosen for feature over five days. But all posts will be given links, so either way... you're there!

We look forward to hearing your grace thoughts...
_______

(Little side note: If you'd like to share in this writing celebration, but you prefer not to be considered for feature at Beliefnet, just indicate your wish. Thanks! Also, if you're wondering what kind of thoughts to share, check out a few of these posts. Each shares a unique voice and experience, and that's what's important... your voice, your experience. Broken Ribs and Stone Crossings, Finding Grace in Hard Places, dribbled with coffee...)

REFLECTIONS:
Glynn's Crossing Some Stones: A Reflection

Unpredictable Paths of Grace

2009-11-02T09:38:00.009-05:00

When you grow up like I did, you try to know-it-all. Everything depends on it. Supposedly.

It has been a long time since "growing up", but still some strange place in your head never quite forgives you for not holding together what was never in your power to hold together anyhow— your parent's marriage, hoped-for joys of holidays and ordinary days quashed by volatility, or some other such thing.

Trying to be right, to know it all, brings the need for control; after all, it's so much easier to be right when you understand the playing field, have set the boundary lines yourself, inasmuch as that is possible.

Then along comes Life with a suggestion: let go, drift. In May's The Wisdom of Wilderness: Experiencing the Healing Power of Nature, he takes this suggestion and experiences Creation as it is. There's a sense of encounter, immediacy, Presence that May cannot control.

For one year, I too felt such an invitation. Let go. Drift with golden grasses, morning dew, the stars. Then it came to an end, partly because my commitment was finished, but perhaps too because God knew it was time to set me in a new place of encounter, where I could not easily be in control.

Thus, my art pilgrimage, which I cannot explain in an authoritative way. On this pilgrimage, I work in media I never used before (soft pastel) in a form (abstract art) that I have virtually no experience producing.

At some point I must have wanted to relinquish the burden of being right, knowing-it-all (it is tiring, often perplexing). And this desire sent me on unlikely journeys— first into Creation, now into Art. As a Christian I would not have predicted such paths. Aren't there more "Christiany" travel plans God should have suggested?

No, I could not have predicted the importance of Creation and Art in my grace journey. But maybe this surprise is part of relinquishing the burden too.

"Falling" in soft pastels, by L.L. Barkat.

OTHER BOOK CLUB POSTS:
Glynn's In White Tanks
Monica's Stars and Sunrise

Ticket to Party

2009-10-28T09:46:00.024-04:00

Want to keep me? Make it easier for me to leave.

That's the philosophy behind a strategy that, more often than not, helps businesses retain executives. How do savvy businesses make it easier for executives to leave and, surprisingly, get them to stay? Besides offering professional development opportunities, they encourage social networking, by hosting events where execs will meet others beyond their immediate circle.

How cool is that? We regular-people have a word for "social networking event." It's called a party. I'm guessing there needs to be some kind of synergy. Executives at a party-social-networking-event meeting other executives, discussing, to some extent, business.

Which is just to say, this past Tuesday I participated in a social networking event, otherwise known as a Twitter poetry party. As a manager and culture columnist for HighCallingBlogs, this is the kind of sanctioned fun that will keep me at HCB for a good long time. (Part of my job is to meet poets and writers, engage in social networking, and write articles about poetry.)

All right, I know you want hear the best part. Who was at the party? What did they say (um, tweet)? You can read more about that at Tweetspeak Poetry.

For my part, I drank water (sorry, that's so unpartyish, isn't it?) and tweeted the poems below. Our theme for the night was Love in Character. I focused on Pocahontas & John Smith, Cleopatra & Mark Antony, Cyrano & Roxane, Lancelot & Guinevere, Shah Jahan & Mumtaz Mahal (of the famous Taj Mahal tomb), Elizabeth Bennett & Darcy, Scarlett & Rhett, Romeo & Juliet, Samson & Delilah, Owl & Pussycat, and Yuri & Lara...

Stop asking questions,
Mr. Darcy, with your
dark brown eyes... kisses
need no answers

*

Lara, I watched you
through the window,
choked on the scent
of goodbye

*

Mr. Young has
his Janet, now tell me,
who is Yuri?

*

Mumtaz,
the air is silk,
morning raises yet again
its veil of longing

*

Lancelot, you were my
green earth, the round
table upon which
my heart spun

*

Roxane,
don't ever doubt it,
for what it's worth
I loved you silent
as the stars

*

Dear Rhett,
this is Juliet
speaking. What
kind of fool are you
to spurn love?
I would die for
my lover's touch

*

Darcy, you too
could know purple,
could lie amidst the
heather. Let your eyes
but look on me

*
I am missing you,
Rhett, the lilacs are in
bloom beside the house
like purple flame

*

I watched them
shave your head clean,
strip your strength
in fallen locks, now I am
missing you, your hair
like rope around my wrists

*

The curry leaf
floats, curls
'midst black onion
seeds, brown sauce,
and I think once again
I taste your love
upon my tongue

*

I still remember
how your bangles
whispered glass love
through the halls, your hair
coconut fragrant, hands
henna red

*

When you stepped
under the Eastern Hemlocks,
John, I still had a few stray baby
teeth. You licked them sober, tall,
I left the shores

*

Mumtaz, would that
you could echo voice
over this dry river
through this dark tomb,
light my heart once more
like stars.

*

Vault of marble
cave, emerald-studded
calligraphy holds my love
for whom, at death, I plucked out
artists' eyes.

*

Had we but honey,
quince and money
a pea-green boat,
we could have
fled the sand,
put war behind

*

Who said love was
softer than the asp,
it bites the heart

*

Forgive me, Mark,
your ship arrived
my almond eyes
could never let
you go

MORE FUN:
Would you like to try writing a love poem, in character? Post your offering by 6:00 pm, Thursday November 5, for links and possible feature at HighCallingBlogs.com. Drop your post link here in the comment box so I don't miss it. Don't be shy! :)

God & the Song writing project: Right now at InCourage, they're GIVING AWAY a copy of Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places. One of my favorite SC chapters speaks of God as our Song of Songs lover. Would you like to try writing a love poem or vignette about God using the voice of a Song of Songs lover? (be as shy or brave as you wish :). Drop your post link here and I'll link to you.

Also, thanks to Michelle Gregory for asking me to share my writing journey. Check it out— includes the story of a very unfortunate string of rhymes.

Love Lane photo, by L.L. Barkat. Hat tip to Bradley, for the Wall Street Journal article.

Top 10 Steps to Make Your Blog or Book Go Viral

2009-10-23T08:54:00.039-04:00

Viruses used to be simple. I'd sneeze, you'd catch my cold. Those were the days.

Yesterday, I perused a bunch of articles about Penenberg's new book Viral Loop: From Facebook to Twitter, How Today's Smartest Businesses Grow Themselves Reading these articles, I learned that spreading a cold just got more complicated. Not impossible, mind you, but way past a simple sneeze.

You can read some of the informative articles (I've linked to them at the bottom of this post). Or you can grab the high points here. These are the Top 10 steps to make your blog or book go viral...

1. MENTION your blog or book a lot. Stone Crossings. (Um, that's just me mentioning my book. I think it's very important to follow these steps with the same level of dedication a germaphobe would have about washing her hands. Because the minute I mentioned Stone Crossings, you may have washed it away (sorry, this does not imply that you are a germaphobe).

Anyway, whether or not you're annoyed by yet another mention of Stone Crossings is probably secondary. As Bill Wasik learned when trying to stop Peter Bjorn and John, even bad buzz can be good. Stone Crossings. :)

In all seriousness, I would be very careful about this step. It's better if other people mention your blog or book; see #4 below.

2. GET COVERAGE on popular blogs. Trust me, a bikini just won't do. It's got to be real coverage, like full body armor. Oprah, Rick Warren, Paris Hilton, where are you? I need coverage.

(I was going to mention Stone Crossings again here, but I was afraid to annoy you. However, I SHOULD mention that Penenberg got coverage on popular tech blogs, because his book is technically technical. Still, I bet he wouldn't mind a footnote from Paris Hilton. Viruses aren't necessarily fussy about how they spread. In my case, I figure everybody could use a little grace, so I'm not going to flinch either when Paris decides to make a video about Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places.)

3. TWEET A LOT. That's what Penenberg is doing. And from what I can tell by cruising his tweets, 'New' is a vital component. He tweets about Newsday, Newsweek, and the New York Times. (Ah, serendipity! I live in New York. Do you think this will tip the scales for sales of Sto.. Oh, seriously, I couldn't bring myself to say my book name again. Maybe you could say it for me?)

4. TWEET Retweetably. Did you know there are scientifically proven ways to get retweeted on Twitter? There are. And there are ways to pretty much guarantee being ignored. I've used a few myself, in both directions.

Unfortunately, the article that will tell you how to get retweeted didn't have any data on the usage of two words very dear to me: Stone Crossings. However, if these words count as self-reference, they would reduce my chances of being retweeted. Because, as the article will tell you, "Tweets about work, religion, money and media/celebrities are more retweetable than those involving negative emotions, sensations, swear words, and self-reference." Oh, and I was sad to learn that I must release my penchant for the semi-colon. It's the least retweetable form of punctuation.

5. OFFER VALUE to people. Penenberg notes that you can't control a viral loop. Bad things might happen if you try (or not). The best thing to do is give people something they want to spread the word about. As Penenberg says, "To get it, you have to give." If you're trying to make your blog go viral, this isn't so hard. Write well. Be generous with links. Highlight the good work of others. Books are trickier. You can do some giveaways or provide excerpts and reviews. But a book is a material object. That obviously complicates matters.

6. Recruit a design firm to DEVELOP an interactive website. I like this idea. It seems simple enough. When someone rolls over the Viral Loop website icons, they pop up messages like, "Click to explore bebo's story" and "Click to explore Tupperware's story."

How hard could it be to do this for my book? I could have little messages that say, "Click to explore the Evocative Creek Story" or "Click to explore the Fifth-Wife Car Story." You know, stuff like that. The only hard part of this step, in my humble opinion, could be the price tag. (Still, maybe I should talk to cool designer 23 Degrees.)

Penenberg's website also offers visitors a wiki opportunity, where they can add their own information or provide links and commentary. Would this work as well for a non-tech book? What do you think?

7. Find someone to DEVELOP A FACEBOOK AND iPOD application/widget. On the app, include a click-through button to your blog or buy-this-book page. Penenberg's application includes infographic, game, and research project related to his book. It estimates the real time value of users to various social networks, like Facebook.

Btw, did you know that Michael Jackson is apparently worth more than God? The Viral Loop app says so. (Hey, Chris Cree, HighCallingBlogs techno-genius... I need a Facebook and iPhone app for Stone Crossings. Is that too much to ask? Check it out, I already designed the art— see top of this post)

8. MAKE YOUR FACEBOOK APP/widget topical. Not as in topical skin cream, but as in make it relate to what you're trying to spread. This is obvious. The problem is that it's not simple. For someone like Penenberg, it takes creativity, but it's not impossible to create an app that will test and promote the theories of a technical book. However, as you've seen when you looked at my artwork for a Stone Crossings Facebook app (you did look, didn't you? Click picture for enlarged view.), well... who would know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of a widget on grace.

9. GET INVITED to be a guest Editor at Publisher's Weekly. (Anybody have some spare PW stationery sitting around? Bring it over and we can secretly pen a few invitations to ourselves. :) Obviously, this step is going to take some finegaling. In the meantime, though it might be a conflict of interest for me, as Managing Editor of HighCallingBlogs to invite myself to promote Stone Crossings at that awesome site, you could get to know me and someday get your blog or book featured.

10. USE EMAIL opportunities. Calacanis notes that he gets about a 60% RSVP rate through email, versus 30% from Twitter and 10% from Facebook. I'd say this is the one to be most careful about. Nobody likes to be spammed with read-my-blog or read-my-book notices in their inbox. Legitimate ways to email a list include offering a Subscribe by Email option in your sidebar.

If you made it this far, I'm assuming you're truly interested in making your blog or book go viral. These days it takes more than a simple sneeze. Still, I can say "God bless you."

P.S. It doesn't hurt to make a video too. Sorry, that's 11 steps to viral success.

RELATED ARTICLES:
CrunchGear's Viral Loop: Using Facebook and the iPhone to Promote Something Called a 'Book'
The New York Observer's Adam Penenberg's Crazy Viral Book Blitz
Fast Company's Viral Loop: Jason Calacanis Q&A From the Top of the Leader Board
Publisher's Weekly's Viral Issue: The Viral Loop
Fast Company's Report: Nine Scientifically Proven Ways to Get Retweeted on Twitter (this one's pretty cool because it also includes words most likely to get you retweeted and those most likely NOT to get you retweeted)
D: All Things Digital's Viral Loop: What Are Your Facebook Friends Worth?
Mediaite's Viral Loop: For Facebook, Michael Jackson is More Valuable than God
Fast Company's Facebook's Mark Zuckerberg on the Value of Viral Loops
Trenchwar's fun theory What Do Ninja Turtles, Hush Puppies and Pokeman All Have in Common?
HighCallingBlog's 7 Easy Tips to Grow Your Blog Audience

Original Viral Loop art by Studioe9. Viral Loop Christian Parody art by L.L. Barkat.

Trees Are Blushing "No"

2009-10-22T14:46:00.003-04:00

Pokey.

That's the word Linda left out.

She made a pool, a stack, a pile. She fished, sorted, pulled, picked. And pokey got left behind (Are we surprised? Pokey is always fifty steps back, where we're likely to forget about it.)

When I saw the poem Linda made, without pokey, I commented that it would have been quite a different piece if she'd used that word.

It's a wonder, isn't it, how words have personalities?

This week, caught on the parkway, I sat thinking about the word hibernate. After all, winter is coming; trees are blushing "no" and weeping, but winter is coming. The word hibernate is one way to think about the nature of this change...

"Coming"

I like
the word
hibernate.

It is not
a killing word,
a crisis

word a
trauma word.
It is

a tender deep
warm primal
lay me

down to sleep
word, a nestle
into rest

word that
touches darkness,
unafraid.

Photo: Towering Pines at rehab center (yes, we've been spending many hours visiting Grandma since her knee surgery); photo by L.L. Barkat.

POETRY FRIDAY:
HighCallingBlogs Parking-Lot Poetry
Prairie Chick’s Just Breathe
Laura’s Trains
Linda’s A Stroll
Mom2Six’s Brakes
Glynn’s Slowing at the Faulkner Bookhouse
Monica’s Calligraphy Slows
Sarah’s The Dawn
Kelly’s escape
Bina’s Celebration of Slowing
nAncY’s book
Maureen’s Not a Rush
Marcus's The Price of Renewal

Technology Fails Me Home

2009-10-19T11:03:00.007-04:00

Rain tap taps. Air is frost-ready. Weeks go by and, still, I have no heat. It is coming at last, later this week, but in the meantime here I am...

Sitting by the fire. Lugging logs from the garage. Tending, turning. Warming hands. Bundling. Noticing.

Like Gerald May in his wilderness, I sit alone and stare at flames dancing. They melt away thoughts, worries, logic and analysis. I find myself, as he did, feeling there is nothing in particular to do. This amber movement mesmerizes, frees. Unlike May, I also sit with others and wonder, is this how hearth came to be associated with home?

When the house is chilled as it is now, we come from our respective corners and meet unplanned before the fire. My big girl draws, paints, writes, leans on my leg as I read, think. I reach out and press her long dark hair between my fingers. I put my hand on her back, and she, unawares, curls her toes against mine. Little One comes too, chatting, smiling, tossing her hair and tangling it. I brush it back in place and smile too.

I love my technologies (yes, Sam, I do). But for these few weeks I marvel that at least one of them has failed me home.

Birch on Fire photo by L.L. Barkat.

RELATED:
HighCallingBlogs Things that Go Bump in the Night
Glynn's It Was Lone Elk Park, but...
Monica's Which Fear?
nAncY's book

Drift Me

2009-10-13T18:18:00.026-04:00

Night comes and I realize I'm bound up. I can feel it ...as if cords are laced from one part of my insides to another, and little tension-elves are pulling them tight, tight, tighter. My breathing is shallow. I keep sighing, as if to catch elusive breath. The day has done me in, or maybe the week... okay, the month.

It has been long, too long— sitting inside, letting life wrap and tug. I remember these words, written during my year of daily outdoor solitude and I'm filled with the urgency to be freed...

There were days when I would go outside only to think, “There is not a single new thing I will find here.” In these moments, it felt utterly true, and I felt I was wasting my time in my excuse-for-a-woods. Then, in the next moment, the trees above me would shudder in the breeze, and something would blow past. Seeds, maybe, releasing themselves to the wind, raining over me.

Then I would start to relax, to breathe. It occured to me that I breathed differently when I was outside, and that with each breath I lost some care of the day. I became a lady’s corset, unstrung by the wind, unlaced by black-capped chickadees.

Why have I gotten away from this? The commitment over, I guess, life rushed back in, but my heart still needs rain, seeds, wind, sky. The Ann's are reminding me to come back to lazy moments, to let God drift me.

Sunset Over the River photo by Sara. Used with permission.

RELATED:
Ann K's book Not So Fast: Slow-Down Solutions for Frenzied Families
Ann K's post Catch a Falling Star
Ann V's Slow Down, A Primer
High Calling Blogs Power of the Slowing
elk's Four Windows
Mom2Six's Still
S. Etole's Take Time
LL's Stumble into Loveliness and Morning with the Moon
Kelly's A Broken Still
nAncY's into
Maureen's Reading GoodNightMoon
Bonnie's The Beauty of Whitespace
Esther's Ditch the Leash
Joelle's This
Ann K's From the Rush to a Hush
Jennifer's Hush...
Bonnie's The Call of Love Whispers
DSMama's The Best Part
Kirsten's Cemetery Walking
Monica's Slow to See the Spinning
Jessica's Sit Down!

HOW ABOUT YOU?
Do you have a story to share, about the need to slow down, or your experiences with "slowing"? Drop your link in the comment box and I'll link to you here (links back are appreciated, though not required; that way, others can see what we're up to and share too). Let's celebrate and drift together...

_______

Poetry prompt: Make a "word pool" of at least five slow words. Yeah, I guess molasses counts. But verbs are good too. Create a poem using a minimum of one of your slow words, but feel free to use the whole pool. Post your poem by Thursday, October 22, for links and possible feature at High Calling Blogs. Drop your post link here in the comment box so I don't miss it. Thanks!

He Dared to Call it She

2009-10-12T09:36:00.008-04:00

Did you do it as a child? Lie down in a field, look up? Did you watch the clouds— see now a dragon eating a fairy... see the fairy morph into a boat sailing away from fire? Did you let nature show itself, name itself, speak?

During a year of daily outdoor solitude, I saw the world with childlike openness. The hemlocks were Rip Van Winkle, sleeping. The pine a manly tree of life and then a mother's lap. A bush, leaning with crooked fingers seemed to be Grandmother. The squirrels were cowboy vigilantes.

I took this as imagination's fine work, based on deeper sensibilities that urged themselves upward— the way I suspect certain languages were formed, that assign gender to words (Why is a table feminine in Spanish, and why a painting? Why is money masculine and an eraser masculine too?)

Rereading May's The Wisdom of Wilderness: Experiencing the Healing Power of Nature, I noticed what I had not observed the first time around. May experienced nature as a She. I know he struggled with this at some level because he says...

I've thought about it a lot. I considered that the whole experience might be my own creation. It began in a midlife time when I had suffered losses and was under stress. Could my psyche be kicking up its Jungian heels and manufacturing a disembodied woman-sense to meet some unconscious need? I could never say for certain...

I'm guessing that some of us might struggle with May's experience too, particularly since he concurrently sensed the Divine in nature. I think May knows this. I think it's partly why he spends a moment trying to explain. But then he forgets about defense and simply shares his experience. He dares to name the She he senses... like a child, simply watching the clouds, letting them speak.

Sky photo by Sara. Used with permission.

RELATED:
High Calling Blogs Power of the Slowing
Monica's Pacing
Liz's The Power of Slowing

Remembering Real

2009-10-09T09:00:00.006-04:00

At last, the day.

The Real Mary goes to # 21, Anonymous, signed "Grace and Peace." Congratulations! Please contact me by Monday, October 12, 6:00 pm. EST, with your name and address and I'll send along your copy. And if you like, you've also won the chance to guest-post on Beliefnet, to share your thoughts about the book.

[UPDATE: Alli from SC is the new winner of the giveaway, as Anonymous has let the deadline for contacting pass. Thanks, Anonymous, for your gracious comment. And congratulations, Alli! :) Please contact me by Wednesday at 6:00 pm EST.]

Since today is poetry Friday, I'm also offering... a poem! In answer to our The Real... prompt at High Calling Blogs...

"Page 5"

The menu
says strawberry
shortcake

with whipped cream

but here's the deal:
I remember what's real,
my mother's child-small

hands turning flour

sugar, shortening
the "size of a big egg"
so the old recipe

instructed, I remember

sun-kissed fields of
furrows, hills my
grandmother's rough

patched, yet painted

hands turned and raised
for strawberries blushed
and bleeding real juice

not perfumed water

that pretends ripeness
cut and strewn over too-
sweet cake. I remember

cream, real, whipped.

_________

A special thank you again to everyone who posted about and linked to/tweeted/or Facebooked the giveaway. You made it a Grand Celebration. And thanks to Scot McKnight for writing a fine book.

POETRY FRIDAY:
High Calling Blogs Real Business Men Read Poetry
Monica’s Attracting His Gaze
Laura’s Fast
Bonnie’s The Bloom of Becoming
Maureen’s The Real Me
Glynn’s The Real Poet
A Simple Country Girl’s Little Things
Kelly’s Real Time
Claire’s This Concept of Real
Monica’s The Real Paul
Tweetspeak’s Poems of the Ruby Moon
Fred's Cooking 1 and Cooking 2
Deb's Mothers, Mary and Obedience

The Real Mary photo, by L.L. Barkat.

Waiting for Monica Tenney

2009-10-05T17:51:00.005-04:00

This is the writer's life. Days and nights of putting down words. Not knowing. Not knowing where they will make their way, or if they will make their way. The words feel good under our fingers; we hope for them, we wait and wonder... will anyone receive?

Sometimes we hear through a back door or a painted window... a person reading our words and saying yes, a person turning and holding what we molded. Sometimes we stumble upon Monica Tenney.

Today her words came to me in the mail, though she does not know it. Maybe she too, just now, wonders where her words will go. Monica, they came here to my door. Your words about my words...

In each of the twenty chapters of her elegant Stone Crossings, Barkat revisits events and emotions from the past, weaving in scripture.... Her writing is... lyrical in places, and— to this reader— reminiscent of the prose of Annie Dillard. It is often laced with a quiet humor that itself is a kind of grace. Barkat is attuned to both the natural world and the poignancy of everyday domestic scenes. With an astonishing intimacy, she tells...

Barkat's book would make an excellent subject for a small group study...

Thank you, Monica. You found my words and I, in turn, found yours.

Dog in the Window photo, by L.L. Barkat. Excerpt of review by Monica Tenney from Congregational Libraries Today.

The Danger of Mary

2009-10-05T08:15:00.011-04:00

"May it be unto me..."

Those are inspiring words. They suggest an enviable attitude-of-heart. Like I said before, oh to be gracious, like Mary long ago.

But they are dangerous words too— perhaps not for the reasons that first come to mind. (And this is a good place to express my delight over the offerings many of you are making, in your own posts and poems... offerings that delve into the wonder of Mary's resolve to face danger for the love of God.)

Anyhow, let me explain a secondary danger.

This weekend I'd planned to go to a birthday party (sorry, Sis! :), but instead lay sleeping in the grips of a nasty cold. The secret of enjoying such disappointment is to bring a few books to put beside your pillow. When you wake, you are treated to an opportunity to lie in bed, read and muse (green tea and chocolate are optional; I self-medicated with both.)

When I woke and poked through the book stack, I pulled out The Drama of the Gifted Child: The Search for the True Self. Before falling asleep, I'd enjoyed the preface of The Wisdom of Wilderness: Experiencing the Healing Power of Nature, in which May had spoken of spending time outdoors to discover your inner wilderness, which is "the untamed truth of who you really are."

What?

Upon opening Miller's The Drama of the Gifted Child, the message was the same, "In order to become whole we must try...to discover our own personal truth, a truth that may cause pain before giving us a new sphere of freedom." The truth Miller speaks of is partly to move past denying one's emotions and needs, to "experience consciously certain feelings" that childhood may have taught us it was dangerous to feel... "jealousy, envy, anger, loneliness, helplessness, or anxiety."

If we never feel these things (and many who experience difficult childhoods— or whose parents experienced hard childhoods— do not feel these things, or work very hard to repress them), we risk a lot... unexplained seasons of vengefulness, depression, perfectionism, addictions, even rage.

And this is the danger of Mary— to sit only with "May it be to me...", to interpret it as a self-effacing submissiveness and denial of needs and feelings... not to see the other side... a woman who felt free to cry, ask, mourn, fight.
________

I do believe Scot McKnight captures the balance of Mary's personality— the woman of feeling, fighting. There's still time to win his book; just comment here before Thursday, Oct. 8, 6:00 pm EST. The winner will be offered an opportunity to write his/her thoughts about the book in a guest post on Beliefnet!

There's also time to offer your thoughts about Mary and/or grace. Just drop your link info here and I'll link to your post. Or respond to our poetry prompt, "the real...", for possible feature and definite links from HighCallingBlogs. Drop your poetry link here before Thursday, Oct 8, 6:00 pm EST.

YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE:
Book club discussion of The Wisdom of Wilderness, at HighCallingBlogs
Monica's Wilderness Call on the Freeway

"The Dress" sculpture by Sara. Photo by L.L. Barkat.

Did I Really Pray That?

2009-10-01T21:14:00.024-04:00

"Hail Mary, full of grace..."

It was one of my first responses. And it surprised me.

I'd just experienced some ungracious treatment. Surprising. Baffling. Seemingly designed to hurt. And this was what came to mind.

The words are part of a Catholic prayer. But as far as I could tell I wasn't praying. Not to Mary, so it seemed. This felt more like the kind of supplication I'd written about in God in the Yard. An inchoate longing. Oh, to be full of grace, like Mary long ago.

The ache was so keen it brought to memory a beloved book... Scot McKnight's The Real Mary: Why Evangelical Christians Can Embrace the Mother of Jesus.

In this book, McKnight asks, "What kind of woman would sing a song [a poem!] like this?"

His answer is a steady look into the face of Mary. McKnight gently reminds us that while this woman had her foibles, she was full of grace. And I can tell you, that's just what I needed to hear. I sought to respond to this message in gratitude.

Most of you know I'm not a big promoter of books. I only share what I like. I only speak to you what speaks to me. Today, I want to go one step further and give what gave...

Simply comment below by 6:00 p.m. EST on Thursday, October 8, and if your number is picked by the Random Generator (no worries, it doesn't hurt), I'll send you a copy of The Real Mary: Why Evangelical Christians Can Embrace the Mother of Jesus. And know that if you are here reading this today, you have my prayers to be full of grace.

"Grace Revisited" art, Mineral Pigments and Gold on Kumohada Paper, (c) copyright Makoto Fujimura, 2002. Used with permission from Makoto Fujimura. Also available as Grace Note Cards at the International Arts Movement Store.

"Graced" photo taken at Laity Lodge, by L.L. Barkat. (Scot has spoken at Laity Lodge, but he showed up exactly one day after I left. Ah well. For an interview I did with him, that reveals his approach to writing, read Writing the Natural Way.)

____

AND YOU?

Would you like to share your own thoughts on Mary and grace, parenthood or friendship and grace, or just... grace? Post a poem or story and drop your link info here. I'll give links to All at the bottom of this post. For now, I await your grace...

YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE:
TUC's If Jesus Were My Son
Amber's On the Mother of God
Jim's Grace in the Streets
Glynn's May it Be to Me
Kelly's this grace
Joan's There's Something About Mary (Joan is offering the winner a GUEST POSTING opportunity on BELIEFNET.)
Laura's Giving it All Away. (And, in celebration of a brave teen, she's giving away 2 copies of her book Brody's Story)
Monica's Attracting His Gaze
Marcus's Hail Mary, Full of Grace and Controversy
HighCallingBlogs Turning Point Poetry
Cindy's The Mary Beyond, Human, But More
Jessica's Resounding
nAncY's home again
Heather's Forever Grateful
Ann's Grace to Please the Lord
Maureen's poem The Etymology of Mary
Glynn's He Had to Be
Jennifer's Dangerous Love: A Sword to the Soul
Bonnie's Do You Enjoy Fear Gazing
Jubilee Conference's Motherhood, Vocation, and a Free Book
Bradley's [challenging] Something About Mary
Tina's Amazing Grace
Kim's Entering the Story
Glynn's final of the triptych You Son, Now
Deb's Mothers, Mary and Obedience

This Blog is a Book

2009-09-29T16:46:00.013-04:00

"Blogging is for angst-filled teens."

That's what I said just a few months before launching Seedlings in Stone.

I was talking to Simon & Schuster's Director of Marketing and Promotion. I think we were both eating curried lentils when I showed my terrible naivete, but she forgave me— not for the lentils, but for the misled comment about blogging. Then she firmly contradicted me, "You need to blog."

She was right. Blogging has shaped my professional life in ways I never anticipated. And I'm not alone. Off-hand I can think of several wonderful friends who've found unexpected opportunities through blogging.

For instance, I just read a chapter in Makoto Fujimura's book Refractions: A Journey of Faith, Art, and Culture; it's called "Planting Seedlings in Stone: Art in New York City." The first time I read that chapter, it was a humble blog post. I loved the ideas so much that (obviously) I used part of the title to name my blog. At the time Mako wrote that post, did he have any idea it would one day be in a book, along with many of his other posts?

I think too of Gordon Atkinson, who started out as an anonymous blogger called Real Live Preacher. His posts, gathered and bound, now grace my home in the form of a lyrical, amusing, straight-on book called... um... what else... Real Live Preacher. Gordon now shares his life with us through his awesome writing, over at HighCallingBlogs.

Then there's Billy Coffey, who started tentatively, wondering... what would this blogging thing really lead to? Today, Billy writes a parenting column for us at HighCallingBlogs and he found an agent (or maybe she found him).

Ann Kroeker, the Parenting Content Editor at HighCallingBlogs approached other bloggers and included their work in her new book Not So Fast: Slow-Down Solutions for Frenzied Families. Why, just today, as part of my talk "Jesus the Gucci Guy", I read Ann Voskamp's contribution to the book. You could have heard a pin drop.

If you're here today, you probably know what blogging can do. But maybe you've got a writer friend who hasn't quite figured it out yet and is still typing largely off-line. Grab a dish of lentils (curried or plain) and break the news, "You need to blog."

Refractions with Me in Long Island, photos by L.L. Barkat.

Enigma

2009-09-25T09:34:00.016-04:00

Ah, Mary, full of grace...

(I'll explain later. Next Friday to be exact. Stay tuned. :)

Mary with Crucified Christ, artist unknown (to me), photo by L.L. Barkat.

Thanks in advance to Joan Ball, Laura Boggess, Mark Galli (if the Philippines don't wear you out :), Marcus Goodyear, Amber Haines, HighCallingBlogs, Tina Howard, International Arts Movement, Jubilee Conference, Ann Kroeker (hey, congrats on the release of Not So Fast!), Jennifer Lee, Jim Martin, Scot McKnight, Teacher Eric, The Flourishing Mother (if new baby boy gets enough sleep), The Unknown Contributor, Glynn Young, Ann Voskamp

Beside Myself

2009-09-23T11:19:00.008-04:00

I am absolutely beside myself.

Really.

Who knew you could have so much fun in a box that holds 140 characters?

Last night I went to a Twitter party, with the coolest people in attendance— people from every corner of the States. @tspoetry started with quotes from John Leax's Tabloid News a book of poetry with surprisingly poignant poems based on tabloid headlines like, "Baby Born with Antlers" and "Leaping Turtles Invade U.S." (If you don't ordinarily buy poetry, this is one book that should make you reconsider your poetry-purchasing policy.)

Once the night began, it was champagne and laughter, food for the mind and soul. Tweeters talked of vampires and red clay, aliens and Elvis. It was decidedly unusual and refreshing.

With a few parties behind us at this point, several attendees decided to dedicate a whole blog to function as a kind of scrapbook and additional sharing space. (Coming soon; stay tuned.)

In the meantime, here are some of my favorite poems I tweeted last night. (Grab a bowl of chips, kick up your feet, and see.)

I used to believe
only other people
died,
that was before I saw
that even an angel
could fall.

*

Too busy laughing
too calloused for desire,
he ignored smoke,
wings, the lifted gown.

*

Shouldn't there be laws
against angels flying
during duck-hunting season?
Well, if 'ya ask me
there should be.

*

Wouldn't you swear too
if by chance
or hidden desire
you culled an angel
from the stars
with smoke and buckshot.

*

Was it grace
that planted the hoof
knowing this alien world
was just now in need
of a shy faun?

*

When her gown
set fire
he could only say,
God, she is more lovely
than Asia.

*

Vegas is glaze,
oil,
a furnace of alien
desire.

*

She used to want blood,
a thin neck,
beating pulse
but now her heart
aches for donuts and cake
no one would give her
the stake for this.

*

Vampiress stalks
Midwest businessman,
seeks the pulse
of poetry to calm
her alien nights.

Speaking of fun, I want to say thank you to HighCallingBlogs (btw, I hear you made it into the top 100 Christian blogsites!), for bringing me on as Managing Editor. I appreciate the chance to work with such a great bunch of people. (Hey, Billy Coffey, I'm talking partly about you.)

The Gift: Unwilling Art

2009-09-21T14:47:00.005-04:00

I am writing this for myself. And you. Of course, I always write for you.

Still, this week I'm working on a bigger writing project. And I need to remember Hyde's words, "There are at least two phases in the completion of a work of art, one in which the will is suspended and another in which it is active. The suspension is primary. It is when the will is slack that we feel moved or we are struck by an event, intuition, or image."

Sometimes, when I feel pressured, like this week, I want to prematurely move into the "will" stage. I want to force my way onto the page. I begin to feel nervous. (What shall I say to this crowd? Will it be profound, memorable, amusing, interesting... oh, anything worthy at all?)

Right now, I am trying to remind myself of the importance of play. I have the passage I'm speaking on. I have a few words that are calling to me from that passage. I need to scribble them, draw them, dream them, flip them. Play.

Sara on the Beach, photo by L.L. Barkat.

Turning Up Emeralds

2009-09-18T08:09:00.008-04:00

The world is filled with poetic jewels. Sometimes it takes a while to find them. That's what happened with me and George Seferis, a Greek poet. I stumbled upon him, and feel enchanted by his every word.

Here are a few of his lines...

A little farther
we will see the almond trees blossoming
the marble gleaming in the sun
the sea breaking into waves...

And here is the poem his lines inspired in me...

Almonds...
I remember the scent
and how you crushed them,
their brown skins
turning to dust
scattering like spilled cinnamon.

Poetry Prompt: Next Friday at HighCallingBlogs, we're going to branch out and do another aspect of "Culture" besides poetry. RAP will resume the following week. In the meantime, you might try writing a brief poem based on the lines of someone else's poem.

POETRY FRIDAY:
High Calling Blogs Habitual Poetry
nAncY’s Holy
Glynn’s Who Were You in My Dream and Early Fall Leaves
Lorrie’s Fear
Monica’s Dream Girl
Kelly’s After Egypt
Jim's Thirty-Five

Jewels photo by Sara B. Used with permission.

No Words

2009-09-15T21:40:00.007-04:00

I do not want to put words to this place. Something in me simply wants to say, "Look..."

... and, too, look at the Child who wanted to see.

Seashore photos by L.L. Barkat.

Journalism: Do You Have What it Takes?

2009-09-14T17:14:00.008-04:00

"I want to be a journalism major," the new graduate explained.

My muscles tightened. All I could think was... are you sure?

Journalism seems to be an obvious choice if you can write. Here's the deal though. It takes courage to be a journalist.

This past weekend I spent time with the writer of this controversial post, and she reminded me that she almost never chooses her own titles/subtitles. It takes a thick skin to let someone else pitch your articles through their version of the angle. Would you have what it takes?

In the case of this particular article, the title probably caused as much stir as the article itself. But the writer accepts her publisher's choices, even if it means eventual heat for her. She also occasionally accepts edits she doesn't necessarily agree with. It's par for the course. You cannot be a journalist without accepting these rules of the game. Would you have what it takes?

As a journalist, you can't just write your own opinion on things; you need to be part of a larger conversation. I marveled that the writer of this particular article opened a new side of the conversation... one she knew was less popular... because she understands her position in the journalistic world. But it takes guts to do that. In her case, if you read the comments, you'll even see what feels suspiciously like a death threat. Would you have what it takes?

I don't. But I deeply respect the people who do.

------

Speaking of journalists, I had the pleasure of meeting Mark Galli this weekend. And now I know what he likes to drink. (And he knows what my kids and I like to eat for dessert.) Oh yeah, and my Little One liked his talk on Liturgy.

"Sara Alone", "Mark Galli", and "Dublin House" photos, by L.L. Barkat.