September 21, 2014
In
appreciation, creativity, inspiration, poetry, words and language
What Poetry Tastes Like
May 28, 2014
In
appreciation, art, history, inspiration, intelligence, poetry, writing
The Gift of Maya
I cried today. I’m not a particularly weepy person, but tears came unbidden and I thought, how odd ~ to not just feel sadness but to actually cry at the loss of someone I never knew.
Yes, I admired Maya Angelou ~ very much. Her words rang with truth. Her wisdom rich, humble, freeing. Her voice strong, her heart rugged and full of light. Her journey brave. She inspired countless lives. She was beautiful and completely remarkable. But when did it become so personal for me?
I think it may have been that as the daughter of a poet, and an unsung poet myself, I felt a kind of kinship. A sisterhood of prose. A “she’s one of us” feeling. I remember when I heard her speak in front of all the world, I imagined my mother applauding from heaven to see a modern day poet make such a profound mark in our world. I applauded right along. She did it. Ms. Angelou sang her song out loud and the world listened! I beamed for her ~ and I suppose I also beamed in that moment for poetry.
Famous people live for a time, larger than life it seems; through them we feel things, we learn things, sometimes deeply, sometimes in passing. And then they die, just like the rest of us. Flesh and bones, blood and breath.
But occasionally their presence is eternal. Injecting itself into our lives for untold generations. I imagine Maya Angelou’s spirit falling in that category. She was a gift to us all; her brilliance here to cherish and embrace as long as we so desire.
As much of the world mourns and honors this amazing lady, and as heaven welcomes a new angel, I send out my simple thank you, Maya, for touching my heart.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
March 23, 2014
In
appreciation, art, black and white, creativity, graphic design, life and the universe, philosophy, poetry, words and language
Seizing the Moment to Do Nothing
Last weekend I spent an entire day reading a book. (I’m a pretty avid reader, but even by my standards, this was a lot.) Not because I didn’t have anything else to do. Life’s administrative duties were still there, lurking, prodding, waiting in various degrees of perpetual disarray, clamoring to be sorted, cleaned, tended ~ things I’m normally all too willing to oblige with great habit of responsibility and an ever-present urge to be productive. This doesn’t even count the paintings wanting to be painted, the stories to write, music to make, dreams to chase. Toss some work in there, too.
For a good 12 hours, I abandoned all of it, hermitting myself inside the pages of a book. “Just because.” Phone off, computer off. Very unsociable, actually.
And life went on. It was lovely.
I’m not suggesting that reading resembles a waste of one’s time (au contraire!), but it does involve letting go of more “pressing things”. That said, I’m always a bit envious of people who seem capable of being unproductive with great and natural ease. But it’s never too late, and I’m still learning. Balancing the have-tos and want-tos and need-tos and can-waits. Knowing when to be and when to do, and trusting that it all has a place in this beautiful, chaotic, imperfect dance of life.
……………………….
Beauty and chaos
Light and shadow
Sun and moon,
The dance of life.
Balancing
on shifting sands
on best intentions
Drinking from the well
of change ~
Ebbing, flowing,
Breathing, being,
Marvelously
Magnificently
Irresistibly
flawed.
~ P. Saxton
March 2, 2014
In
art, creativity, life and the universe, philosophy, photography, poetry, travel, words and language, work and play
Margaritaville and The Lost Island
While the planet continues to shift, rearranging the northeast into some kind of Arctic replica, I took some time away, letting my muse wander among talking dolphins, small dragons and lazy hammocks under a hot, shiny sun. Had a cheeseburger in paradise, looked for Jimmy Buffet’s lost shaker of salt (thought it might be in the old Hemingway home, but no). And I pondered which island on the horizon might be the one that my mother purchased years ago.
Yes, my mother bought an island. She would, not often, but on occasion, do things like that. Buy a convertible when a station wagon would be more sensible. Write a letter to the Queen of England. Buy an island. Maybe to defy an orderly life, to make dreams real, to remind herself during times of inevitable routine that she was more than laundry folded and meals on the table; to remind her four children that our dreams were also valid.
We never saw the island. I’m honestly not sure she ever saw the island. The island that might one day be a family gathering place, or an artist retreat, or a healing place, or who knows what ~ a dream without limits. It could well be that the island was no more than a single palm tree on a lump of earth bulging from the Gulf of Mexico. Or it could have been a small but bona fide piece of paradise. It was sold, so we’ll never know ~ but the idea of it ~ the loveliness, the throw-caution-to-the-wind of it, the hopefulness and cheer of it, lives on in me.
………………
An Island Lost
Stars like freshly polished gems,
Close enough to touch –
A sprinkling of stardust
Soundlessly rests on giant palms
And sweeps across the sea,
A silent chime,
The whisper of a song
With familiar, forgotten words from
The language of dreams.
How far the distance between then and now?
A heartbeat? A century? All of time?
A story unfinished, a vision unseen
Green and blue on sandy shores
Ripe with adventures not taken.
A red sail, a setting sun,
Flowers in our hair.
An island lost awaits
A barefoot waltz,
Promising secret treasures.
But instead, a more reliable path.
Feet on solid ground. And yet ~
And yet,
A cactus grows in winter, and
Mysteries breathe in hickory trees
Where cardinals, red and fit,
Watch from lofty branches.
A poem from the future,
And guiding stars
like freshly polished gems,
Close enough to touch –
Stardust falls on me,
On you,
Then, and now,
There, and here
Inside this sky
Where dreams wander
And Prometheus plays
And Shakespeare sings
And Copernicus soars
And hands are held
And laughter swells
And love is forever
And ever.
~ P. Saxton
December 13, 2013
In
appreciation, creativity, design, imagination, inspiration, intelligence, life and the universe, poetry, words and language, work and play
Poetry as Ruler of the World
“I say, ‘Get me some poets as managers.’ Poets are our original systems thinkers. They contemplate the world in which we live and feel obligated to interpret, and give expression to it in a way that makes the reader understand how that world runs. Poets, those unheralded systems thinkers, are our true digital thinkers. It is from their midst that I believe we will draw tomorrow’s new business leaders.” ~ Sidney Harman, CEO Multimillionaire of a stereo components company”
― Daniel H. Pink
I stumbled upon this quote this morning, and it reminded me that when I read Daniel Pink’s “A Whole New Mind” a few years back, I was (given what I do) thrilled at his theory that right-brainers will rule the future. There’s a place for the creative, the innovative, the out-of-the-box thinker ~ more than ever! And not just any place, but a valued place. And not just a “dusting off the weariness of life” kind of valuable (although that’s important!), but a place that moves, shakes and shapes our world.
Of course, we all have elements of both; right and left brains. And perhaps because of a genetic blend making me feel fairly balanced in that department, I dislike labeling ~ or assuming, for example, that if someone is logical they aren’t creative, or someone who’s creative can’t be logical, because that’s simply not true. We have tendencies towards one or the other, most definitely, whether innate or learned, but both aspects reside in most people’s brains to some degree, and I presume for good reason. (So when my very creative daughter complains about having to learn Math, I insist that she needs to exercise that part of her brain to stay healthy and wise and grounded, and not end up with both head and feet in the clouds. “Use it or lose it” has real meaning here.)
That said, and putting aside my own personal glee at the prospect of “right brains” leading the future, the theory does have merit, especially when you consider how many previously human-held jobs have been replaced by increasingly efficient, computerized functions – freeing up some of us to be more creative and others to flounder for their bearings.
And while I’m not completely convinced that poets should be managers, I am convinced that there’s enormous opportunity for unlocking the floodgates of our ingenuity when more menial tasks are automated. And I think most people perform better when they’re inspired, rather than watching a clock, regardless if they’re mathematically or artistically driven ~ both of which can be dry or highly creative functions, depending on any given person’s combination of atoms and molecules, environment, and spirit.
To do anything well, to grow, stretch boundaries, reach the moon ~ to live better ~ we need to think big and welcome a fusion of the intuitive with the intellect. And really, it’s always been so, when great things have been achieved, but maybe we’ll honor it more. Maybe poetry will change the world!
So why not change even today ~ open your mind to the galaxy, and get to work.
November 30, 2013
In
appreciation, art, fine art, illustration, inspiration, painting, poetry
Day is Done
Dark Sky / © Patricia Saxton
The Day is Done
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life’s endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
September 21, 2013
In
art, creativity, design, imagination, inspiration, life and the universe, peace, poetry, words and language, writing
Dare to Dream: Week #36 / 52 Weeks of Peace
Week #36: 52 Weeks of Peace / “Starry Night” / © Patricia Saxton
Dare to dream upon the stars ~
Dare to dream of peace,
Beaming
From life’s grandest stage ~
Unrestrained,
Where thousands
fold to millions ~
Shining. Alighting. Dancing,
Through an endless velvet sky.
Floating in layers
of patterns on patterns,
Shades of bright white
Shimmering
In the blackened pool
Of an upside down sea.
Eternity’s dream catcher ~
Twinkling,
Winking,
Silver-rimmed storytellers ~
Architects of heaven ~
A symphony of light
Plucked from the night
For all time.
Beacons,
Guides,
Galactic jewels,
Wished upon
and worshipped,
Where secrets
are surrendered
And wonders breathe ~
Bright,
Inconceivable and constant.
© P. Saxton
August 18, 2013
In
appreciation, art, inspiration, life and the universe, philosophy, poetry
Becoming Love
I’ve always been an optimist. Still, when I was much younger, concepts like “positive thinking” seemed wise but not very attainable. I hadn’t learned how to access the secret code. And of course, when you’re young and the world is exciting and challenging, stretching every fiber of your being in all kinds of dramatic ways, advice like “look on the bright side” feels insignificant, even powerless, alongside your intense concerns.
The thing is, after a good share of life’s trials and tribulations, I’ve learned a few things. (Funny how that inevitably happens.) One of them is that “thinking positively” really is much simpler and much more effective than I’d imagined way back when. It’s a choice. It’s a decision. It changes everything. Our thoughts then become an attitude and can make life a very different, and better, place.
And, for me, it’s all inescapably tied up with love… a word restricted to a fault by some and used in meaningless excess by others. But of course, it’s not just a word, it’s a state of being that places life in another orbit, a very different, and better orbit. Love is a feeling, an action, and an energy that lives in the root of our being, able to wind around our means and reach out to the tippy ends and edges and way beyond. Love is everything worth anything.
At some point I latched on and haven’t let go of the notion that love transcends all else. When life pulls me down, when it throws me against the wall, I can punch back with love. I know it’s there, love’s essence ~ this great well of God-like, Great-Spirit, Divinely Intelligent, Universal Magnificence – that I can tap into for sustenance. I believe we all can.
It’s an amazing thing, love. There can never be too much.
And so a few lines flowed out the other night (which prompted this whole little essay). Thought I’d share them. (With love.)
Becoming Love
Love someone,
Let yourself be loved,
Do all things with love ~
Work with love,
Sing with love,
Speak with love,
Share with love.
Let love rise like the sun
in your heart
And settle behind your eyes
as the sun goes down.
Drink love into your water,
Pray love into your woes,
Breathe love into your very bones ~
Become love.
Just Love.
– Patricia Saxton
July 17, 2013
In
appreciation, art, inspiration, life and the universe, poetry
Dog Days and A Little Prose
“Breaking Free” / colored pencil / © Patricia Saxton
So the dog days of summer are upon us. Heat waves. Air Conditioners. Katydids. And it turns out, a little streak of not feeling my best. It happens.
You just don’t get this far in life without some scars, lessons learned, boatloads of trials and tribulations, patterns that repeat, ups and downs, enlightenments and unwelcome doubts. I tend to work through them privately and quietly and come out the other side just fine ~ better, wiser, stronger ~ but just like you or you or you, when in the throes of question or angst, it’s no picnic.
It doesn’t much matter what the personal throes are about – for one, everybody has a story, and for two, this isn’t the place, it’s not that kind of blog. But on a more universal note, what does matter in just about every instance is how we handle it. How we react to, respond to, and “deal with” whatever we experience.
In my case, feeling out of balance is probably an understatement, but I’ll call it that for some context. And, having had about enough of that, I had the presence of mind to remember that when I meditate in the morning, things flow more smoothly, and I can also get some wonderful messages. As simplistic as that may sound, just that thought – set to action – can make a difference (as many of you already know). And I wanted to share with you part of what came from that meditation.
I share this with you because it might, just might, speak to you on some level in a positive way, and if so, the sharing is worthwhile. If not, no harm done. And it’s back to the dog days, feeling lighter. : )
♦
There is a myth,
A myth that life is hard
That you must struggle
That you must be dragged about
And twist and turn
And hurt and heal
And clamour out and rise above
With battle scars as medals.
But there is another way,
A better way ~
And you may wonder
How and why and when,
And what do those who’ve found this know
That you don’t know.
It is that love breeds love and joy breeds joy and light breeds light ~ those are the way. Those are what you aim for, those are what you fill your thoughts with, those are what you place gently, firmly into your heart, sprinkle out into the world around you ~ and it is the very same that you allow, accept, and receive into your own precious soul. However small or large, love is love is love.
Go and sing this song in your heart.
For you are love.
~ Patricia Saxton
♦
May 12, 2013
In
appreciation, inspiration, intelligence, poetry, words and language
Mother’s Day
Carolyn Naught Saxton, circa 1940’s
On this day reserved for mothers, I’m planning to sit back and bathe in any loveliness that might possibly come my way. But first, I’d like to share something of my own Mom.
My mother was “my world” when I was little, and a role model as I grew. She did all the things you’d expect a Mom might do, like fix meals, teach manners, dry tears, cheer you up and on. She was there for her family, she was involved in her community. She loved to laugh. She loved to give. She loved life and tried to worry only on Tuesdays.
She was my biggest fan; my most trusted friend. We all adored her to pieces. And though she left the world much, much too soon – nearly 30 years ago, before her 60th birthday – she left gifts behind. Treasured, timeless words; gifts from the heart, mind and spirit.
Her poetry first appeared in anthologies as early as her teens. Later, perhaps her greatest work, was the collection of sonnets published in her book titled The Pine and The Power.
It was hard to choose just one poem ~ but I share this piece below in honor and life-giving celebration of mothers near and far, here or remembered.
Happy Mother’s Day ~
Patricia
♦
…………………………..
God help our children to transcend the dark
And walk the earth with dignity and cheer;
God help them seek the mountains, persevere
The road that twists through thorn and tanglebark,
Ascending finally where eagles mark
Their point of vision. Help our children find
Two masters ~ one the spirit, one the mind ~
And rediscover constancy of heart.
Help us to find cathedrals in the skies,
A will to walk the long uncharted mile;
(The will to find in winter’s legacy
The ochre sands from which the lime trees rise!)
Help us to know the measure of the child ~
To live in time and in eternity.
© Carolyn Naught Saxton
…………………………..
♦