On Having Babies...(After 38.)

Loves,

I have had a pretty solid one track mind since I left my life as an educator/ administrator/ consultant to clean houses and date. (I could add " and to pursue my writing career," but that's really not be at the top of my list.)

No: Babies, people. I have wanted to have babies. Clocks are ticking. Sand is running out of the hour glass, and eggs are dropping, rather dying it seems as each day and month passes....

Scary, for sure!

(You all know my mother invited me to consider freezing these things that will be 1/2 of her future grandchildren, right?....Another tale.)

So: I've just been trying to bide my time. Date some men. You know: go out for wine, have burgers, be taken to the art museum, or bowling, all in the larger interest of love, a bit of a romance, and then some whoppingly fast sex to produce offspring.

Really, truly: imagining the whole thing at the age of 38 1/2 sort of makes my head spin. Shoot! It's like I could get morning sickness just thinking of what I'm asking God for....

Cue Elaine and Jerry from Seinfeld: "The Baby! The baby!"

I want to date. And do some kind of wedding. I want to build a life together. I'd like to imagine traveling, or buying pillows together, or mowing the lawn and grilling, having friends over. Drinking and talking and giggling till late at night. Playing poker with his friends. Or whatever his friends normally do that excludes women, but that he'll want me there for at this early point in our life together. I want that period. You know: young couple in love and chilling mode?

Sigh.

Deep breath.

But how does one do that at 38 and 1/2 - when you aren't even married yet, and your unborn son and daughter keep whispering: Mommy! We want to be born! Would you get on it already?! We need bodies!

I'm not crazy. My children talk to me. My son has at least. (I just keep doing the wishful thinking: there's a girl out there, too, who really wants to enter my life, who wants me to play with her and teach her things.....)

Lalalalalalaaaaaaaaaaaa...................

Birth Control Happens right here...........Ladies and Gentleman, this is my life lesson, coming at me from a couple directions today:

1. Cleaning houses.

2. In the copied and forwarded funny email from my sister-in-law, a new mother, pasted below.

Yes, I was fortunate to receive a serious birth control lesson while doing my "Two Betty's and A Broom" routine - cleaning houses and really SEEING what a mom's life is like. I was knee deep in this world today; or should I say plastic toy-and-toddler-tissues-on-runny-noses-deep - while over at Sara and Aaron's home, tidying their living quarters.

The three hours of scrubbing while simultaneously navigating the beloved monotonous sound of baby Naomi wanting to be read to, over and over and over and over again: Let's just say: it was a wake up call to my fantasy. It was rather, a lovely way to push PAUSE and hold a bit on the NOW and the JOY I have in still being single and responsible for only myself.

Sweet!

It is. I have to celebrate. Cause with my clock, and what God keeps telling me, I know these babes are going to be here before I know it. And I don't want to look back on this time and NOT RECALL how mentally and physically and emotionally prepared the Universe was getting me.

I do love this day, this moment. And that I can read the following Lessons ("15 Step Program to Prep for Kids" and laugh - knowing their truth, and that there is still time.

Indeed.

Amen.

Enjoy!

Melissa

............................................

Thinking of Having Kids?

Do this 15 step program first!

Lesson 1

1. Go to the grocery store.

2. Arrange to have your salary paid directly to their head office.

3. Go home.

4. Pick up the paper.

5 Read it for the last time.

Lesson 2

Before you finally go ahead and have children, find a couple who already are parents and berate them about their...

1. Methods of discipline.

2. Lack of patience.

3. Appallingly low tolerance levels.

4. Allowing their children to run wild.

5. Suggest ways in which they might improve their child's breastfeeding, sleep habits, toilet training, table manners, and overall behavior.

Enjoy it, because it will be the last time in your life you will have all the answers.

Lesson 3

A really good way to discover how the nights might feel....

1. Get home from work and immediately begin walking around the living room from 5PM to 10PM carrying a wet bag weighing approximately 8-12 pounds, with a radio turned to static (or some other obnoxious sound) playing loudly. (Eat cold food with one hand for dinner)

2. At 10PM, put the bag gently down, set the alarm for midnight, and go to sleep.

3. Get up at 12 and walk around the living room again, with the bag, until 1AM.

4. Set the alarm for 3AM.

5. As you can't get back to sleep, get up at 2AM and make a drink and watch an infomercial.

6. Go to bed at 2:45AM.

7. Get up at 3AM when the alarm goes off.

8. Sing songs quietly in the dark until 4AM.

9. Get up. Make breakfast. Get ready for work and go to work (work hard and be productive)

Repeat steps 1-9 each night. Keep this up for 3-5 years.

Look cheerful and together.

Lesson 4

Can you stand the mess children make? To find out..

1. Smear peanut butter onto the sofa and jam onto the curtains.

2. Hide a piece of raw chicken behind the stereo and leave it there all summer.

3. Stick your fingers in the flower bed.

4. Then rub them on the clean walls.

5. Take your favorite book, photo album, etc. Wreck it.

6. Spill milk on your new pillows. Cover the stains with crayons. How does that look?

Lesson 5

Dressing small children is not as easy as it seems.

1. Buy an octopus and a small bag made out of loose mesh.

2. Attempt to put the octopus into the bag so that none of the arms hang out.

Time allowed for this - all morning.

Lesson 6

1. Take an egg carton. Using a pair of scissors and a jar of paint, turn it into an alligator.

2. Now take the tube from a roll of toilet paper. Using only Scotch tape and a piece of aluminum foil, turn it into an attractive Christmas candle.

3. Last, take a milk carton, a ping-pong ball, and an empty packet of Cocoa Puffs. Make an exact replica of the Eiffel Tower .

Lesson 7

Forget the BMW and buy a mini-van.

And don't think that you can leave it out in the driveway spotless and shining. Family cars don't look like that.

1. Buy a chocolate ice cream cone and put it in the glove compartment. Leave it there.

2. Get a dime. Stick it in the CD player.

3. Take a family size package of chocolate cookies. Mash them into the back seat. Sprinkle cheerios all over the floor, then smash them with your foot.

4. Run a garden rake along both sides of the car.

Lesson 8

1. Get ready to go out.

2. Sit on the floor of your bathroom reading picture books for half an hour.

3. Go out the front door.

4. Come in again.Go out.

5. Come back in.

6. Go out again.

7. Walk down the front path.

8. Walk back up it.

9. Walk down it again.

10. Walk very slowly down the sidewalk for five minutes.

11. Stop, inspect minutely, and ask at least 6 questions about every cigarette butt, piece of used chewing gum, dirty tissue, and dead insect along the way.

12. Retrace your steps.

13. Scream that you have had as much as you can stand until the neighbors come out and stare at you.

14. Give up and go back into the house.

You are now just about ready to try taking a small child for a walk.

Lesson 9

Repeat everything you have learned at least (if not more than) five times.

Lesson 10

Go to the local grocery store. Take with you the closest thing you can find to a pre-school child. (A full-grown goat is also excellent).

If you intend to have more than one child, then definitely take more than one goat.

Buy your week's groceries without letting the goats out of your sight. Pay for everything the goat eats or destroys.

Until you can easily accomplish this, do not even contemplate having children.

Lesson 11

1. Hollow out a melon.

2. Make a small hole in the side.

3. Suspend it from the ceiling and swing it from side to side.

4. Now get a bowl of soggy Cheerios and attempt to spoon them into the swaying melon by pretending to be an airplane.

5. Continue until half the Cheerios are gone.

6. Tip half into your lap. The other half, just throw up in the air.

You are now ready to feed a nine- month old baby.

Lesson 12

Learn the names of every character from Sesame Street , Barney, Disney, the Teletubbies, and Pokemon. Watch nothing else on TV but PBS, the Disney channel or Noggin for at least five years. (I know, you're thinking What's "Noggin"?) Exactly the point.

Lesson 13

Move to the tropics. Find or make a compost pile. Dig down about halfway and stick your nose in it. Do this 3-5 times a day for at least two years.

Lesson 14

Make a recording of Fran Drescher saying "mommy" repeatedly. (Important: no more than a four second delay between each "mommy"; occasional crescendo to the level of a supersonic jet is required). Play this tape in your car everywhere you go for the next four years.

You are now ready to take a long trip with a toddler.

Lesson 15

Start talking to an adult of your choice. Have someone else continually tug on your skirt hem, shirt- sleeve, or elbow while playing the "mommy" tape made from Lesson 14 above. You are now ready to have a conversation with an adult while there is a child in the room.

Discernment of the Day: Grad School or No?

The Following is an Email Letter written to my High School Graduation Class of 1987:

.............................................................................

Hey Loves!

So here's a live topic that I suppose I'd welcome your thoughts on....

I'm truly discerning whether or not to go to graduate school this Summer to get my MFA in Creative Writing, Non-fiction.

Normally, please note: that I'd weigh such a large decision with a couple close friends, a confidant or two, perhaps my spiritual advisor, Sr. Mary Margaret....

But: my girl Io is not picking up her phone. My guy David is moving houses - checking out of North Mpls, and heading to the 'burbs, so he's tied up in boxes and transferring his cable service... It's too late to call and talk to Sr. Mary Marg. And: I'm a bit on the sheepish side about ringing up Steve and Beth, after I sent them a copy of my "Loving Mari" Confession....(ack! Maybe I should have warned them?!)

Anywho, dear classmates:

I'm thinking of NOT going to grad school this June - (even if I am accepted.) This idea came to me today, as I started weighing my priorities and saying some novenas to. St. Raphael (patron saint of matchmakers, medical workers, and people who are lost and on a journey.)

I'm thinking of NOT going because:

1. I want to get married. And so dating and creating a life-long partnership is the number one way I want to spend any of my creative energies.

2. I really REALLY want to SEE you guys after 20 years! And if I do get accepted and do go: then I cannot duck out of my program, and be with you all at the reunion. And how often do 20 year reunions happen?!

3. It's actually YOU ALL that are making me think that I might be able to do this writing business - without being in school. Your feedback on some of my reflections - past and present day - have knocked me on my booty - ie, humbled me to no end. This correspondence has helped me imagine that perhaps taking out another $34,000 in loans is not necessary at this juncture.

4. Asking for what I want, read: ASKING SOMEONE TO HELP ME MAKE MY DREAM of MARRIAGE COME TRUE is the SCARIEST and MOST UNREASONABLE thing THAT I CAN IMAGINE DOING AT THIS JUNCTURE. (I mean: It defies all the rules I was raised on: Borgmanns are not weak people! We do for ourselves! Being needy is wrong! A sin! To require help, or to be vulnerable is to commit a grave error.) This ring any bells for anyone?! God bless my family! I love them so much!)

I think it's a Law of the Universe, though: that to make things come to fruition, To bring forward our lives' goals, destinies: we must INVITE A PARTNER! Who creates anything by themselves? And to achieve a transformed space/ life, we have to go against all notions of the REASONABLE. In other words: we invite the UNREASONABLE in, and then trust that if it's the Will of God, Love, it shall manifest. Yes?.

So: Before your very eyes, with you blessed souls, this what I'm deciding: The UNREASONABLE thing of NOT Going to School; sticking around to date a guy or two, and RECEIVE this partner into my life; and write here with my local writing group. (Now don't go and start poking holes in my thinking by saying that graduate school is where my husband is! I've gone to graduate school already - and didn't find him there the first time. I don't think God wants me to go into that much more debt to secure a partner. In fact: a partner of some financial means would be most welcome!!)

..........................

Next question: how is Melissa going to pay her bills, then, while she dates and writes and waits? That's the next installment of stories: "Two Bettys and A Broom" is what it's called. haha!

Thanks for letting me vent and rant and wonder and question and discern with all of you!!!

I so appreciate your loving support and virtual presence this past month of my life! To say nothing of the last 20+ years!

Love, Peace,

Melissa

Post-Storm...Clearing pathways

Loves,

The following are images from my friend Cynthia Berger's home in Lyme, New Hampshire. There was a terrible Nor'easter storm that did overwhelming damage, taking about 80% of their trees. (Sparing their home and barn, but leveling a newer guest house/ tree house her dad was building.)

The scene her father initially describes below, coupled with the appearance and help of others, neighbors, takes my heart to crazy places....

I'm holding this story and these images alongside other tales of devastation we've encountered this week. Whether it's natural disaster; violence and terror on a campus; the marked passing of a loved one; or the internal strife surfacing from choice and discernment -- the psychic and spirit levels of this call for a lotta love. A lotta compassion.

I send that out to each and every one of you.

I so appreciate the neighbors who Mr. Berger describes showing up with chain saws, ready to help cut and clear a path out for his family...

I think of the way we do that for any one we might encounter...

Peace, Love,

Melissa

Scene from top of mountain, trying to get a phone signal.. You might be able to make out the garage in the distance...

A trapped vehicle in the Berger's driveway.

Monday afternoon I cut a way along the driveway to the culvert where there was about a 30 foot stretch without any downed trees. I could hear chain saws on Horton La. and it turned out that Ben Nichols, Jediah Smith and Doug Gernhard cut a path up the hill and were cutting a way into our driveway. As evening fell, Craig Martin bushwacked over from the Fromers, because another tree had hallen across Franklin Hill Rd. He joined me in cutting a way out the driveway. The second picture is of Doug, the first appearance of someone from the outside.

Dan Ordway, a high school senior and the son of some friends brought another friend's tractor over this afternoon. We used the scoop on the front to lift logs, carry them to the end of the driveway and pile them. Dan was very good at dodging all the ends of the chopped off trees that line the driveway, the cleared path just wide enough for a car and some of the logs he was carrying were 16 feet long.

We got a lot of the trees near the barn and near the house carted away.

He is going to try to bring another tractor with forks on the bucket tomorrow so we won't have to use chains. That should greatly speed up the process.

One of four friends cutting their way in.

I love Robert Fanning!

What is it about a good poem? It has the power to sort of stop time, slow your breathing, and remind you of what you love, who you are. Who you are REALLY, like in Love's eyes.

This Robert Fanning poem, this Monday morning, arrives as I contemplate the stress and headache of entering back into the messy world of arts education and administration. It shows up as I'm thinking about how hair spiders in my shower drain and lint ball dust bunnies clinging to my floor are similar to this work I've tried to leave behind: gross, messy, unattractive, needing to be dealt with.

But then I read this poem. And I remember. I know this voice the poet is talking about. The quiet, teacher-practicing voice of respect, of fear, of love, of awe. The voice that whispers with reverence in the face of something like mystery.

I hear that voice. It lives in me. And I know how to use it. As I know Love.

Thanks, Robert!

Melissa

.........................................

Poem: "The List of Good Names" by Robert Fanning, from The Seed Thieves. © Marick Press. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

The List of Good Names

Tonight, in the family style
pizzeria, we speak of having a child
some day. On a napkin smudged red
where the leaky felt tip lingered,
I watch meteors, sperm and tadpoles
cross the paper sky, as you
draw up a list of good names.

Looking at the list, I'm a substitute
teacher practicing attendance
before the class arrives:
Isabella, Gabriel, Rose. Who will be
the bookworm, the athlete, the clown?

Around us, the families finish
dinner, pack into minivans and leave.
The pimpled waiter picks up
broken crayons, wipes sauce
from a plastic high chair,
unplugs the video game.

Soon the room's as silent
as a doll shop after hours.
When I'm ready to speak, above
the ticking of the clock, my rubber
lips click. Whispering the list's
first name, I hear the voice

I used when I spoke your name
the first time—that voice I've used
when I try the name of an unknown
plant, or when I'm scared, or when
I pray, or when I know a stranger
now listens in the next booth,
the one I thought was vacant.

Queen Mab Contemplates

http://queenmab31.blogspot.com

Poem: on Resurrection

I wrote this about a year ago, in the middle of a rainstorm, as I was corresponding with a friend about Christ, Love, our individual calls in Life. Arch Benham had given me a rock at Easter - a rock that looks just like an egg. I love it. I still have it in my little shrine of precious things. That perfect stone has me often contemplating Christ's tomb.

What would have happened had that rock not rolled out of the way?

Thank God for the gravity - or the miracle - or the mystery at work, eh?

The poem is a work in progress. In the spirit of Easter, here ya go!

(Some of ya's have seen it before. I say, "enjoy again!")

Love,

Melissa

..........................................

The Hope of Galgatha

Melissa Borgmann

and on the third day,

the stone rolled away.

but can you see that body?

before.

taken down from the cross.

cut, broken, bloody, born into death.

this galgatha.

place of skull.

of death.

and to speak of no promise.

of endings without hope.

that is to stay at the skull.

body torn down and left to the sky, elements, maggots consuming...

skin that blisters, cracks, rages against itself,

festering and boiling over to

raw wounded bones...

that will eventually dissipate

the vultures clinging and carrying away in their claws...

but the flesh of supposed savior was carried away.

tombs for the simple.

lots cast for clothing.

meager as he was.

poor bone and bread boy

-man-

king.

laid out for burial.

can you hear the cloth in the temple ripping?

the clouds overcasting and the stillness of sorrow.

we can't breathe its so hot and dry and desert-like.

and in this. there.

the rock rolls.

is rolled.

we return to mystery.

to an emptiness that fills us with questions.

why?

where?

really?

who?

what?

how?

and it rains.

then.

then it pours.

covers caked earth.

and we drink.

the merriment, festivities of miracles.

only we can imagine.

have to imagine or hope,

if we are to continue breathing.

we are Him.

broken.

redeemed.

festering wounds wanting salvation.

the balm exists i do believe.

in story.

in shared bodies.

in the poetry that is our work.

love.

Fiction Writing Retreat....A Life-Changing Opportunity!

I had the amazing pleasure and privilege of participating in this Fiction Writing Retreat last summer. As I continue to look back, move forward, and work to bear witness to so many life-changing experiences, it behooves me to record my thoughts here.

Today: a picture or two or five - of last summer's journey West.

From roping calves...

to a momma cow's response....

Most of our ensemble in Granite Creek..

Looking through the cattle chute..

Charlie Phyllis

Up-close with my new friend "Spark"

A highlight of the experience: sharing our work around the campfire....

If you have the inkling to do this, GO FOR IT!

Writing the High Country:

A Fiction Workshop Retreat on a Western Cattle Ranch

Have you ever wanted to spend the morning on horseback and the afternoon writing about the quiet pull of a mountain range?

Here's your chance: a week long fiction workshop intensive located on a working cattle ranch near the Snake River in the Idaho Tetons. We will read a selection of classic and contemporary western writing, discussing both the legacies of the mythical "old west" and the realities of the "new west" as they play out in literature. Ranching activities, including a round-up and a branding of the calves, will be interspersed throughout the workshop schedule. We will also attend a mid-week rodeo in Jackson Hole. Each participant will emerge from the week with a piece of short fiction. Readings from Wallace Stegner, William Kittredge, Richard Ford, Cormac McCarthy, Tom McGuane, Barry Lopez, and Annie Proulx, among others.

Testimonials from past participants:

"The intensely physical/sensual experience of riding every day perfectly balanced the intellectual/emotional work we did in workshop."

"I'm truly in awe of this experience... there's been magic, amazing grace, wisdom in all present... this experience was sacred."

The Location: This is the second year this workshop will take place at the Granite Creek Ranch, a working cattle ranch located in the Snake River valley in Ririe, Idaho, halfway between Jackson Hole, WY and Idaho Falls. Yellowstone & Teton National Park are nearby. Accommodations are in rustic cabins. For more info go to: www.granitecreekranch.com.

Dates: June 17th-23rd, 2007. Space is limited to eight participants.

Cost: $1375. (The cost of the workshop includes all meals, lodging, horseback rides, and activities. Participants are responsible for their own transportation to the ranch.)

About the Instructor: Reif Larsen is a writer, filmmaker, and teacher. He has taught writing workshops in Idaho, South Africa, the UK, and New York City. He currently teaches writing at Columbia University.

For more information and an application, please email: ril2104@columbia.edu.

"Is God Real?" Response to the Newsweek Debate over Religion

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17889147/site/newsweek/page/6/

To the Editorial Staff of Newsweek Online:

I appreciate this article. Thank you for encouraging critical discussion and debate on the topic of God's existence.

That being said, I long for the day when the discourse - in and of itself - is enough (and that is communicated by your writing, editorial staff.) This closing comment saddened me:

"And so four centuries on, a world away from Pascal's France, two men are undertaking his old wager. Who will win? No one can say. At least not yet."

I know our world operates on a win/ lose paradigm. Religion, good religion, is meant to teach us about a more enlightened mindset, that's not considered merely a settling in the "middle ground." Rather, our religion should lead us or teach us about a consciousness that allows for complexity, plurality, mystery to be held. In this space, there is no need for winning or losing.

Theologians like Fr. Richard Rohr, James Allison and Buddhist Nun Pema Chodron speak powerfully about these notions. In the future, I hope your editorial staff considers including some of these other thinkers and writers in this discussion of God and Faith.

Thank you.

Melissa Borgmann

Contemplative Writer, Teacher

St. Paul, MN

Queen Mab Contemplates

http://queenmab31.blogspot.com

"Take the Lead": A Movie Review

Call me a "suckah!" for a flick about urban youth doing some hot arts (or athletic) thing and finding themselves in the lime light, with the sweet old taste of success in their soul as they compete in a new or different setting.

HAY!

That's the skinny on this film I watched on HBO tonight. I know, I know, this movie is a year old, but I'm s-l-o-w, as I am just now seeing it, and recommending it here.

"Take the Lead" is a film set in New York City featuring a ballroom dancing program that ignites the "detention crew" --taking the youth out of their club scene element and comfort zone to perform on a dance floor before a full orchestra and judges.

http://www.taketheleadmovie.com/#

Yeah. It's in the spirit of MTV's "Save the Last Dance"; "Drumline"; this Winter's "Freedom Writers" (about teen writers); and a real recent movie I got free preview tix for: "Pride" (about swimmers.) Oh. Wait. If I'm going to be "Melissa-generation-appropriate" about this, I can't not mention "Dirty Dancing." Yeah. Shoot. This movie has got that feel to it at times. Just not set in the Adirondacks with all white people in the 1950's. In fact, the setting of this movie is the exact opposite, BUT has that element of dance turned on it's ear.

(Watching it, I have to admit, I wondered if my dance teacher friends in Minneapolis had seen it? Ms. Colleen Callahan, Roberta Carvalho-Puzon, April Sellers, or Pamela Plagge?!? Holla if so! North High? Southwest? Ramsey? Sheridan?! Hay!)

Anyway, as I was saying, all these sorts of films tickle my fancy. This movie, featuring one Antonio Banderas, and then a slew of young (adult) performers, has some zinger ideas and lines, too, which make a case for the arts in schools, as well as in our lives. Plus, Banderas as the teacher man makes some sweet analogies to our lives, breaking down some notions that seem so COMPLEX for humans, especially those wanting to be in control all the time. (This is NOT me! I write with a tad of sarcasm.)

Here are some doozies, that I think can appeal to almost anyone, of any age - given the right context:

"To follow takes as much strength as to lead."

I had to write that one down immediately. Then wonder, "What would Sun Tzu have to say about that? Does this come up anywhere in "The Art of War?"

"If she's allowing me to lead, she is trusting me; but more than that, she's trusting herself. "

And then, there's this one, that's speaking to my romantic sucker heart. (So sorry, it's just where I'm at this moment in time):

"You have an opportunity not to dominate her, but take her on a journey."

I can say that I like this movie very much. Why? It took me on a journey: Through my limbs, my brain, my body, and my heart.

Again, I end as I began, admitting I'm a suckah! for this kind of flick.

Peace out!

Melissa B

Queen Mab Contemplates

queenmab31@blogspot.com

A Poem From Earl, Age: 3.

I've gone off the deep end recently, falling in love with this child Earl, son of my friend Becca. He's almost 3. He's the oldest child of a poet/ teacher/editor and social worker/ songwriter/ musician. I see this family at church on Sundays, with LuLu, Earl's baby sister. I have a deep appreciation for how these children make their way at mass, and afterwards, consume St. Philips' homemade donuts with crazy abandon. (Interviewing Earl this past Sunday, for example, he pulled pieces of chocolate covered cake donut from his face, with this remark, "Ohh! A burger!" I laughed so hard. Then, went on to inquire about the following original poem of his. For the record, Earl recalled with absolute precision the title of this poem, including the images of the lip-stick wearing monkeys...

Oh! But I'm ahead of myself. Read on for the email from his mom:
.........................................................................

Hi Melissa:

Earl was bugging me tonight while I was trying to make last minute edits
to my poem for this evening's writing group. Sitting on my lap and listening to me read aloud parts of my poem. I did not get much editing done.

He, on the other hand, told me that he had a poem and he began to recite
this in a Poetry Reading Voice (children are extremely imitative, ahem):


THE TIGERS ARE IN THE JUNGLE AND THE MONKEYS ARE IN THERE PUTTING LIPSTICK ON

The kitties are in the tree
still and quiet.
The fish are sleeping
and the whales are snoring
and the sharks are quiet
and soft in their nest.


Doesn't that just blow your mind? The title came a few minutes later
when I asked him what he wanted to call his poem.

......................................................................

This universe calls to me:
Earl's jungle, rife with lipstick-wearing monkeys.
And his sea where whales snore and sharks live in nests.

God is so alive and well in young boys. In all children.

I love and believe like Earl.
With a fierce imagination that seems to contain truth -- if I simply speak it.

Now: will it manifest?

In Peace, Faith, the questions, and with lots of humor,
Melissa

How do you want to spend your time?

.............................................................................

Loves,

Here's a Naomi Shihab Nye Poem, courtesy of my pal Garrison. (Where would prayer and reflection be without a daily Writer's Almanac?)

She's asking a big old rocket science question that each and every one of us gets to wrestle with on this planet:

How do I want to spend my time?

What's it worth? What are my options? What are my choices? What are the essential outcomes I'd like to see from today, or my week, or this month- or shoot: my entire earthly existence?

I often get caught up on the little moments, like, "What do I want to do this next 5 minutest?"

Thus far today: I've cleaned Sarah, Aaron, Naomi and Elliot's house. Had a couple tacos. Talked to my sister. Now what?

These are not earth shattering decisions, but ones I think all sort of add up and then have the potential to overwhelm us. Or maybe just me.

I love Naomi's attitude though here. As I feel like I've similarly gotten kind of snappy and particular about my time.

"You'd like to take me to a movie? Or out for martinis and sushi?"

"That's quite delightful. But I'm wondering, 'Why?'"

"Happy hour this week?"

"Coffee on Thursday?"

"A walk by the River?"

Here's a really recent one:

"A job teaching Shakespeare to the private school privileged babes? Oh?! And it pays $500 for the day?"

In each case, I am confessing, I've posed this response loudly and clearly to the dear extending the invitation:

"Why?"

It's not out of a sense of anger, disgust, desire to be rude, any moral outrage or need to put a person off because I'm annoyed.

No. For me, it's just literally gotten very very clear what I want at this juncture in my life:

A boy, a baby and a book.

The three b's. (This particular naming just surfaced with my lovely friends Joy and Sharifa Tuesday night.) One month ago, the notion appeared in this kind of language:

"I'm putting all of my creative energy toward cultivating a partnership, working to have a child or two, and writing. Anything else, must take a back seat. The creation and sustaining of an organization devoted to art literacy and leadership? Fabulous. But: Backseat. The mentoring and facilitation of emerging teaching artists and collaborative work with teachers? Backseat. Unless it immediately contributes to one of these possibilities (boy, baby, writing a book) manifesting in a timely manner. It's a no go."

Sure, then there are those practical details showing up in practical questions, like,
"Umm, Meliss, how you going to pay the bills?"

Excellent question!

Answer: "God will show me."

Ack! The thing is: I really believe that. Let me tell you, when this "Three B" discernment first surfaced just a month ago, within 24 hours this job offer walked in the door to start cleaning houses. It pays $20 hour. I get to sort and tidy and scour and create clear and comfortable space for a family. Help them live in a way that makes life a bit easier. And then leave: and write. Or go out on a date.

Today, I actually get to do all three of those things. !*$@*$%#$@&!

And there's honor in that. Beauty, in fact.

I'm rambling. I'm sharing. I'm just doing my thing, revealing my daily thoughts and questions and a few details. Somewhere in all of this, I hope there is something you might find chewy or comedic or even inspiring. Read Ms. Nye's poem below.

She says all this really swell like and succinctly.

Peace, Love,

Happy discerning,

Melissa

Poem: "The Art of Disappearing" by Naomi Shihab Nye from Words Under the Words: Selected Poems. © The Eighth Mountain Press. Reprinted with permission.

The Art of Disappearing

When they say Don't I know you?
say no.

When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.

If they say We should get together
say why?

It's not that you don't love them anymore.
You're trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.

When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven't seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don't start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.

Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.

.....................................................................

NOTE: If you'd rather not receive these emails, let me know. I'll remove you from this list.

Queen Mab Contemplates :

http://queenmab31.blogspot.com/

What do you Want?: A Writing Assignment

Here's a Writing Assignment for everyone:

Respond to the question, "What do you want?"

You get 22 short lines to answer. Include the cost and location of your desire(s).

Consider if there are ridiculous items or facets to your dream; note anything potentially standing in the way of achieving what you want.

Do not let the consideration of these things hinder your writing. Simply bear witness to the fact that they may exist.

(Naming stumbling blocks is powerful.)

You get bonus points if you are able to draw from a famous dead Russian writer's thoughts.

Below, you will find an example of such a response by David Ray.

This is a poem. Yours need not be considered a poem.

Submit these as they are composed. I shall publish those that most entertain me on my blog.

Peace,

Melissa B

Poem: "Costal Farmlet" by David Ray, from Music of Time: Selected and New Poems. © The Backwaters Press. Reprinted with permission.

Costal Farmlet

"A man wants nothing so badly as a gooseberry farm."
—Chekhov

I want a costal farmlet.
I desire it very much.
I saw it advertised
in the classifieds and I presume
that coastal means our land
comes right down
to the sea with the whitecaps
lashing romantically, and farmlet
means we can grow
gnarled trees on our headland
and let sheep roam. It is about cheap
enough for us if we borrow, beg
and steal, pawn a few poems, also write
a harlequin romance or two, and it's
only 9000 miles from the place
we call home. There's not much
of a hitch except the Immigration
would not let us stay in the country
to live in our farmlet. But still,
I want it and think we should go
look at it, right now, this moment,
while tangy sweet gooseberries glow.

Parker Palmer: on Listening to the Soul....

My dear friend Brian Mogren brought my attention to these words today from Writer, Activist, Educator, Parker Palmer. I find them wildly resonant, and a reminder of the call to LISTEN. I've been a fan of Parker Palmer for a few years now, being introduced to his work through my former student, Kristin O'Connell, who was taking a class from him at Carleton. The Divine Julie Landsman has also brought Palmer's work closer to home -- in our monthly conversations on Race, Class, Privilege, and Education.

So many blessings to receive these words, have them arrive through multiple sources. For me, it's simply more evidence to "PAY ATTENTION!"

I hope they resonate for you in some capacity this day.

Before you tell your life what you intend to do with it, listen for what it intends to do with you. True self, when violated, will always resist us, sometimes at great cost, holding our lives in check until we honor its truth.

(Is this perhaps why I've literally gotten ILL in my work? Why my body started reacting violently to certain relationships and circumstances not aligned with my soul's purpose? Hmmm.........)

Vocation does not come from willfulness. It comes from listening. I must listen to my life and try to understand what is truly about--quite apart from what I would like it to be about--or my life will never represent anything real in the world, no matter how earnest my intentions.

How we are to listen to our lives is a question worth exploring. In our culture, we tend to gather information in ways that do not work very well when the source is the human soul. The soul is not responsive to subpoenas or cross-examinations. At best it will stand in the dock only long enough to plead the Fifth Amendment. At worst it will jump bail and never be heard from again. The soul speaks its truth only under quiet, inviting, and trustworthy conditions.

The soul is like a wild animal--tough, resilient, savvy, self-sufficient, and yet exceedingly shy. If we want to see a wild animal, the last thing we should do is to go crashing through the woods, shouting for the creature to come out. But if we are willing to walk quietly into the woods and sit silently for an hour or two at the base of a tree, the creature we are waiting for may well merge, and out of the corner of an eye we will catch a glimpse of the precious wildness we seek.

Peace,

Melissa

http://www.beliefnet.com/story/2/story_286_1.html

Excerpted from "Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation" by Parker J. Palmer. Copyright (c) 2000 by Jossey Bass, Inc., Publishers, a company of John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

The Price of Doing this Work: Some Questions on What Transformation of Life, Community Costs...

The following is a Letter to my dear friend Julia Dinsmore:

Writer/ Community activist/ Spokesperson for People in Generational Poverty/ Artist and Angel/ Fundraiser for Spoken Word Poets.

(Under separate title, I also sent a copy of this to Daniel Pierce Bergin, Senior Producer at Twin Cities Public Television; Reporter Chris Williams at the Catholic Spirit; and Tom Borrup, Community and Cultural Development Genius, formerly of Intermedia Arts. )

............................................................................

Hey Love,

Do you know how much I adore and respect your energy?

Truly!

Here are some questions brewing:

Who pays for you to live?

For your rent and your health care?

Your groceries, therapy, down time? (Assuming these are essential for quality of life and continued breathing. ;-))

Your gas and car insurance?

Your phone bill?

Are you on contract as a promoter and community organizer? Where are those deep pockets that are funding the social entrepreneurial initiatives that you are leading?

If you stepped out of this ring, where would it be?

It seems your work here is one of an essential lynch pin, holding all the loose ends together. You are at the center, the source, as I see it. Holding space in the concentric circles of power - radiating from the core of your lived experiences, (navigating poverty and knowing the power of spoken word as transformative arts/ life tool) - To the second ring of negotiating power and creating opportunity for others in your midst, young people especially who are so gifted - to perform, share, inspire; To the outer circle of Policy Makers and those so far removed from the immediate, daily encounter with poverty and art and literacy.

So again, I wrestle seeing what I see, and posing the questions from my own perspective.

What does transformation of a community, a world, no! A LIFE require?

What are the necessary resources , and who is making that public, visible?

Who is supporting YOU as you do all of this work?

Are you on God's payroll? ;-)

....................

You've inquired as to my whereabouts in this realm of fundraising and spoken word:

MELISSA...you sittin this years fundraising out? Let me know!!! Gots ideas!!!

I appreciate wholeheartedly your curiosity, and take this as an appropriate time to make visible - or plainly known - once again why I'm not at the table.

I'm taking care of myself. As I look to all that you are up to, I feel a kind of mirror to my own life and experiences in this work and realm of arts, literacy, education, reform, and leadership.

I know more clearly than ever: that this work cannot come at the price of my own well-being, my own personal life passions and goals: to marry, create a family, and work in that tiny sphere or circle of radical love and transformation. I have had one tiny decade of an opportunity to work and follow my professional callings as public educator and arts literacy leader and reform person. The price has been nothing short of my own personal life and family. I cannot afford that any longer.

There may be speculation about my absence from this work, as that occurs naturally in all circles.

I hope all the dear people that I have been in relationship with over the course of the past two years know that I wish them well, and pray for your success and your ability to sustain yourselves!!!

Perhaps after my own children come along, and I'm in a solid space where my own needs are accounted for -- and I'm able to thrive, then I might find my way back to work alongside you all, and be present in a way that truly I can say is for the absolute greater good. That time, for me, is simply not now.

I make my way, clearly focusing all creative energy toward a life-time committed partnership, (rooted in a common faith, and radical love); making babies that will be well provided for and know God's abundance and grace, and a life as working writer and artist in my own right. I do look forward to the day that I'm able to introduce my husband and children to many of you! And I hope that my writing about this time in my life serves you well, honors your spirit and presence and impact as I've known it.

Again, Peace and blessings to you all!

Love,

Melissa B

http://queenmab31.blogspot.com/

Love is the religion. The universe is the book.

From Coleman Barks in "The Illuminated Rumi."