mermaidcamp

mermaidcamp

Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water

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Drinking Color, Tasting Light

April 14, 2013

Taste with your eyes, smell with your feet.

Take in the story with all our might

While there is color, while there is light.

Dreamtime reorders sensuality

In living color.

Flower Poem

April 11, 2013 — 8 Comments

poppy

poppy

bee on orange blossom

bee on orange blossom

white orchid spray

white orchid spray

foxglove snapdragon

foxglove snapdragon

orchids

orchids

fairy duster

fairy duster

Yucca

Yucca

rose Virgin of Guadalupe

rose Virgin of Guadalupe

rosebud

rosebud

penstemon

penstemon

Life blooms before our eyes daily.

The colors saturate the background of our set.

Our bodies also color the landscape, and change it.

We paint our story in a range of colors we have learned from nature.

Flowers speak volumes, directly to our emotions.

Poetry and Plants

April 7, 2013 — 9 Comments

New this year at the Tucson Botanical Gardens is a collaboration with the U of A Poetry Center, bringing poetry to the gardens.  I attended the class next to the iris garden yesterday and was surprised at the depth and education they packed into the experience.  We learned about the Poetry Center’s history and the very good luck we have to live in a city with a center such as this. We learned about the botanical gardens and the history and meaning of the iris plant.  An enthusiastic docent from the Tucson Botanical Gardens opened the readings with a poem of her own about iris and the field of everyday glory we can find in nature.  We then read together a selection of poems, all in some way referring to the iris.  Our favorite reader was dressed like an iris and has a British accent that enhanced her interpretation.  It was an exceptional experience on all levels for me.  I enjoyed the crowd, and had time after the class to get some technical growing advise from the lady who represented the Iris Society.  Poetry and gardens do go together very well.  Next month the group will meet by the cactus garden….a thorny subject.  I am encouraged to use my poetic voice more often, and listen for stunning stories to tell.

Poetic Justice

April 4, 2013 — 1 Comment

Any unexpected twist that makes a story intriguing demands our attention.  We expect certain things to happen in context, so when they do not we begin to wonder about the nature of things.  The term poetic justice was coined between 1720-1730.  Much drama and some poetry contains this magical distribution of perfect reward and retribution in exactly the right proportion to all parties.  Rarely do we see this in action in real life. It is more common to witness social, political, or just plain crazy injustice.

We can write stories and poems that highlight our own particular brand of justice.  Simply focus and spotlight on causes like nature, environmental awareness, or animal cruelty can change hearts and minds.  You can be a spokesperson for the things that matter to you.  The impact you have may never be known to you, but that is not a good reason not to create and share your own version of poetic justice.  If you bother to bring your message artfully and with grace you may hit the target you hoped to find in the gentle reader.

Art and Practice

April 4, 2013

This month many writers are writing a poem a day in NaPoWriMo..the poetry challenge.  I am accomplished in a few expressive ways, but I have not visited my poet for years.  I was a prolific song writer as a teenager, and wrote poetry every day of some kind.  I am a language fan, loving words because they sound funny or because they have obscure specific meanings.  Being poetic, or even doing rhymes as improvisational humor, sharpens the wit, grows the vocabulary and enhances connections and metaphoric images.

When I was young I heard my father recite the Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert W Service.  He knew it by heart. After a couple of drinks he liked to sing, dance or recite that poem. It was always entertaining. He was a research scientist by profession, but my parents loved music and dance more than anything.  We had a player piano which was the scene of many sing a long parties.  What was truly admirable about my parents was their artistry.  They had regular suburban lives, but my dad was an accomplished musician, and my mother designed and executed both landscape environments and fashion with amazing professionalism.  My mother was a prize-winning floral arranger, and avid flower show horticulturist.

I was encouraged , and in some cases forced, to practice art.  Piano was a mandatory 30 minutes every day of my life, and a legal pad sheet of cursive handwriting had to be inspected by my father each night.  I eventually realized I could recycle some of the handwriting, but there was no faking the piano.  My guitar and voice lessons came with mandatory practice sessions when I was in high school.  I learned the power of practice at a very young age.  Discipline is never natural to kids and maybe my parents overdid the whole rigidity thing.  Today, however, I thank Dick and Ruby Morse, the living artists, who gave me the self confidence to know that I can be any kind of artist I care to be.  My art will reflect my practice, and with practice I will improve.  All poems, all songs, all dances are alive and need to be brought forth.  Practice is the vehicle in which they travel into the light.