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Sure--we can play

By Jamie, on February 21st, 2012%

Maggie–you made my day. Hope you don’t mind if I post your fun bit here–and add a bit of my own to it. Maybe some others will come out to play with us.

grouse tracks 

Maggie’s story . . .

The Grouse that Hit My House
by Dr. Spruce . . .

It happened one day . .
First a Bam!!!! then a Bounce
I looked out my window and not far away
I saw two grouse that hit my house
It was my lucky day!

It was my lucky day!
My first real snowy school delay
You ask,” What did I do? ”
Of course, I made a two grouse stew
Not one but two, a two grouse stew.

On my way to school, starting 2 hours late,
I thought about the poor bird’s fate.
But, I smiled when I thought of the joy it brought
To all of the people who share this pot
of yummy for the tummy two grouse stew

Not one but two. A two grouse stew.

 

I can’t resist having a go at this myself.  Here goes.

She came to the throne, she came on her knees

She answered the call that went out to all

As a matter of fact, she came with the flu

And a nice steaming pot of two grouse stew.

 

It wasn’t the flu and it wasn’t the stew,

That gave her a fever—or took one away,

It was simply the act, the plain simple fact,

That approaching the great, most marvelous throne

Makes us feel we are human and not just a drone.

 

We can dance, and sing, make music and play,

Tell stories and dream, spin circles and scream,

because really, yes really,

there certainly, most defintely,

is no other way to the top but to play.

 

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Approaching the Throne of the Creative

By Jamie, on February 20th, 2012%

Ek Balam--Mayan Ruins in the Yukatan

It feels like months since I have touched down and wrote a blog post.  In fact, it has been a couple of weeks.  We’ve been on the move from Minnesota to Mexico to South Dakota.  A few more days here, and we head for home.  The good news is that we have missed a month of winter.  I am already dreaming of spring, and soil, and gardens, and mud.  My body wants to move and stretch.  My mind wants to move and stretch.

I seem to get into some kind of zombie travel zone when weeks go by of non-ordinary routines and places.  I can’t say that the zone is unpleasant—more like being asleep or being in the moment, not sure which.  The one very positive thing is the freshness of returning and the willingness to review what I want to do next.

The only thing that is clear to me is that I yearn to get back to some kind of creative writing.  The swirl of words and images coming together on the page is essential to growing my spirit.  It has been a long time.  This past weekend I taught two days of workshops.   On the first day I could hear in the opening circle the deep desire we all have to create—and the common fear we have of approaching that creative space.  We will get it wrong, do it badly, sell ourselves short, discover no talent or capacity for creating.  There are so many logical reasons to avoid entering the creative space.  I talked for a while about our universal fear of “approaching the throne of the creative” and my coordinator, Peg, suggested we name the next workshop that.

But a lot of things happen when we approach the throne of the creative.  We come on our knees.  We come with blank minds and restless fingers.  We come carrying our old baggage, singing our old tunes.   We come fearing disappointment–or worse–death.  We come like beggars to a banquet.

It has been so long since I sat alone with a blank page, the whisper of a story floating somewhere in the back of my mind, that I am afraid I will no longer be able to do it.  And then what would become of me?  Is the rest of my life to be only about do lists and done lists and still to get done lists?  I hate that idea.  I need juice.  The yogis call it “rasa.”  It is the creative energy of life itself, I think.

I need a shot of rasa.  I need that more than you need one more blog post from me.  So, let’s make a deal.  During the next week, let’s all create something—a soothing space, a painting, a story, a sculpture, a song, a dance, a vision, a dream, a new way of walking—anything.  Just let’s create.  Then let me know what you have created.

One of the things I learned is that there is not enough therapy or tools or techniques in the known universe to overcome the fear of first sitting your butt down in a chair and beginning.  Just begin.

Just begin.  My promise is that by this time next week I will post something wild and fictional that has never appeared anywhere ever before.   I had an idea of a young boy who visits old ruins and suddenly becomes a part of their story.  There, I committed myself.

See you next week.  (I’ll be home at last.)

As always, you can register below to get my weekly (mostly) post in your email box.  Oh, and about the image.  This a picture of one of the pyramids at the Ek Balam ruins north of Vallodolid in Mexico.  Milt actually climbed straight to the heavens.

 


 

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No hablo Espaniol? No Worries.

By Jamie, on February 5th, 2012%

Maya ruins at Coba, Mexico
We’ve been almost a week in Mexico now. We are staying in a small hotel outside of Tulum, which is a couple hours down the coast from Cancun. The hotel is just outside of the small village of Macario Gomez and ten minutes out of Tulum. This area is not Mexican, actually, but Mayan. I am so happy that we chose to come to this rather isolated hotel. It is quiet, clean, and friendly. Jose seems to be the only one who works here and he is here day and night cleaning and taking care of things. We are getting a little better at trying to communicate with him. Last night he had some friends over to play cards and I was happy to see he also knew how to have fun!

I realized (finally) just two days ago that whether we speak Spanish or they speak English is not so important. It is whether we can communicate. There are many ways to communicate beyond words. The other evening I was in the dentist office waiting for my appointment. (Yes, I am taking the opportunity to have some affordable care—shame on the US systems.) Anyway, I was sitting there with a couple and their little boy. We all stayed in our own “space” which I recognize as the way around here. I happened to have some Bead People and the Spanish version of the little Wind book because I was planning to give the dentist and his assistant one. The boy (may 8 or 9) had music in his head. He was clapping his knees and snapping his fingers to a tune only he could hear. His parents were trying to quiet him—although he was not bothering me at all. I opened my little magic box and showed him The Bead People and indicated that he should pick one out. Quanto Cuesta? he asked. How much? His father spoke some English so I told him it was a gift. The parents got excited about my little peace people and we “talked”. It was so much fun and the little boy was smiling ear to ear as he picked out his new friend. You can imagine how surprised I was when the reserved space around us just disappeared instantly. When they left, the boy came and kissed my cheek. Then the mother came and kissed my cheek. Then the father came and kissed the back of my hand. I was so touched by their generous spirits. It was then that I realized I should not be afraid to try communicating—that there are many ways to connect without the correct words.

Since then I have been braver about trying to connect. I dislike feeling like just one more American who cares only about my own needs.

Yesterday was Milt’s birthday so we ventured outside of Tulum and went south along the coast. We saw an archeological site marking so we went in and saw the most amazing Mayan ruins. We were literally the only people there except for three men taking care of the place. We wandered and climbed and took pictures and totally enjoyed ourselves. I wish I could feel more of the spirit of the place. I think the ghosts have long since gone on

Later we picked up our laundry in Tulum and had a nice supper along the main drive. I let our waiter know that it was Milt’s Birthday (I had to sing Happy Birthday to you for him to understand.) After we had our meal he brought us two shots of Tequila and salt with limes. I had some instant flashbacks to early times of my life—crazy twenties in Juarez, etc.—but it was fun to throw back the tequila and bite into that lime. Muchos muy bien.

So, it is good to get thrown out of our comfort zones sometimes and be forced to risk getting to know people from other cultures. I’m having a great time and sleeping like a baby at night. I am not getting as much as a water fix as I had expected but the beaches are so crowded and I prefer our small villages, the ruins, and an occasional Cenote. I’ll have to post a cenote story later—think deep, crystalline, freshwater pools, fallen caves, stalactites (or are they stalagmites?) and images of underwater monsters. I do love my prescription goggles!

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