I came back...

So I came back from India.  Problem being that my heart never left.  The hardest thing I did all year was get on the plane to come home (and by "home" I mean Seattle, because I've started calling India home).  As soon as I'm done writing this paper about Genghis Khan's DNA I'll tell you all about it.  For now I'll just say that I miss my mud hut and the world's smallest frog, Ferdinand, who kept me company while I drew illustrated instructions of how to plant sack gardens. 

Highlights
Hundreds of people recieved medical attention
Hundreds of children received dental treatment
composting infrastructure was implemented
I read everything Jhumpa Lahri has published and I love her. 
Bodygaurd saved the woman he loves from bad men.

I'm Off to India. Wanna Join Me?

I was greeted by humidity.  The baggage claim was filled with people from all over the world, some transient, some coming home, some leaving.  After waiting in line for what seemed like forever the immigration agent asked me why I had come to India.  “To do volunteer work,” I told him.  He nodded his head in true Indian fashion, stamped my passport and sent me on my way.  Stepping outside the airport my friends and I experienced something we had never encountered before.  India.

India isn’t always an easy place, but it is beautiful.  India is a rising power on the global stage.  The country is a leader in technology and cricket, among other things.  However, most of the country lives in densely populated, underdeveloped communities.  Sex trafficking and disease are on the rise.  Many lack access to the education and resources that you and I take for granted. 

But I wasn’t thinking about any of this as I jumped in a taxi and headed for the bus station.  We weren’t home yet.  During the five-hour bus trip from Delhi to Jaipur I tried to make reality set in.  I was in India.  India. 

When we arrived at our host’s home we were greeted by a young girl around the age 9, the same age as my little sister.  She had a leg brace on one leg and a smile that consumed most of her face.  She’s from a small slum in Jaipur.  Her community is known to some as the “puppet people.”  They make, sell and perform with puppets.  The families in this community live in dire poverty. They have no access to sanitation, very little access to (dirty) drinking water and almost no access to education or medical care.  The organization we were working with visited the community every week and brought food and vitamins for the children.  On one visit they found this little girl in the corner of her home. She had broken her leg and her family could not afford her medical treatment.  With no options they left her in the corner.  The group was able to bring her home and fund-raise for her surgery.  When I met her she was almost fully recovered, healthy, happy and alive. 

In the same community I met a woman with a newborn baby.  She explained through the translator that she and her child were sick but she could not afford medicine.  At the time I was naive to the illness of poverty, but now I believe it was TB.  Two months after my visit I learned that the baby died. 

Another family in the community lived in a single room.  The family consisted of a 12 year old girl and two younger boys.  I believe the youngest was around age 3.  They invited me to sit on their bed and immediately the youngest crawled into my lap.  He snuggled in and would not let go, his heart obviously longing for a mother.  The interpreter explained that their mother had died in a fire and the father was a truck driver.  The daughter had been living in slightly better conditions with her grandparents and attending school.  When her mother died she was forced to stay home and take care of her brothers while her father was away for weeks at a time. 

As I sat with the women and children of the community we shared laughter. Not even able to speak the same language we still managed to talk about life’s hardship and beauty. 

Before going to India I did not understand the concepts of global health, infrastructure or development.  Now I am obsessed with them.  Call it a calling if you will.   I am devoted to the development of the global community that I am a part of and I am striving toward a future where resources are better allocated and utilized, and education, health care, and women's rights become fundamental aspects of community development.  

I’ve been awarded a $500 scholarship to travel to India with a group of medical professionals, engineers, college faculty and fellow students.  We will be working two hours outside of Jaipur, Rajasthan in clinics and helping build sustainable infrastructure including composting toilets.

To cover the cost of the trip I need to raise an additional $2500. I will be able to save a large amount of this money and have already received some donations. 

My first trip to India was difficult.  I had never before experienced such poverty or diversity.  The longer I am away the more I want to go back. I'm excited to be apart of a program that is bringing medical care to those who usually cannot access it as well as implementing sustainable infrastructure that will have long-term effects on the well being of the community.   This trip will invest in the people of Rajasthan and fuel my education in International Development.   Please consider investing with me. 

Thank you,

Jenn

+++

To donate via pay pal either click the button on the top left of my blog or send donations to jennrp@gmail.com.  You can also send a check to Jennifer Pekol, 2615 NW 56^th St, #204, Seattle, WA 98107. Anything you can give will be helpful and used with integrity.  

 Global Impact: Experience Rajasthan
Aug 20th-3rd

Poetry Month: Tear It Down

by Jack Gilbert

We find out the heart only by dismantling what
the heart knows. By redefining the morning,
we find a morning that comes just after darkness.
We can break through marriage into marriage.
By insisting on love we spoil it, get beyond
affection and wade mouth-deep into love.
We must unlearn the constellations to see the stars.
But going back toward childhood will not help.
The village is not better than Pittsburgh.
Only Pittsburgh is more than Pittsburgh.
Rome is better than Rome in the same way the sound
of racoon tongues licking the inside walls
of the garbage tub is more than the stir
of them in the muck of the garbage. Love is not
enough. We die and are put into the earth forever.
We should insist while there is still time. We must
eat through the wildness of her sweet body already
in our bed to reach the body within the body.

2010 Roundup

Well, reassessment.  I'm supposed to be doing that.  It's February and usually I take time during February to set some new goals for myself for the year.  Before I do that I need to sit with my goals from last year and see what I accomplished.

Remember I made prayer flags last year depicting my goals for the year?  Here's a picture in case you forgot.

First, a map of Morocco.  The flag was to remind to be wise with money, pay off debt and save for a trip.  I give myself a B+ on this one.  I've paid some stuff off which is good and I've started saving toward what I hope is a trip to Haiti this summer to volunteer.

Second, "Any time you can tell your story in the form of a quest or pilgrimage, you'll be ahead of the game." --William Zinsser.  I set the goal to have my work published in three places last year.  I wrote a blog for Libuse Binder about Construction For Change, I published twelve recipes for Flock and three articles for Ocsplora, two of which were featured in the first ever print edition.  Success.

Third, the tree symbolizing the tattoo I want to get.  I didn't get that one but I did get this one...

Fourth, BOOKS!  I set the goal to read 25 books outside of school reading, I read 16.  Here's the list:  The Writing on Her Forehead, The Namesake, The End of Poverty, Dreaming of Baghdad, Arafat and the Dream of Palestine, Ecological Intelligence, Zen and the Art of Writing, The Fellowship of the Ring, Middlesex, Shanghai Girls, Savage Beauty: The Life Edna St. Vincent Millay, Half the Sky, The War of Art, A Poetry Handbook, Snow, Strength in What Remains.  For school I read: Brain Rules, Our Kind, The Government and Politics of the Middle East, Naked Lunch, On the Road, Veiled Threat and The Silenced Cry.  Total I read 24.  I win.

Fifth, the onion symbolizing cooking.  Did you read the part where I published 12 recipes? 

Sixth, the yoga person symbolizing self-care.  I got my migraines a bit more under control but I don't think I fulfilled the goal.  I didn't stick to a regular yoga practice which was the main part of the goal.  But there's always 2011.

An unexpected event this year was that I started painting.  See them here, here and here.  But here's one just in case you're lazy.

So, time for some new goals. Travel, reading, writing...and an old favorite is back.  Sit tight while I figure out 2011 and set your own goals while you're waiting.  If you need some help check out Chris or Jolie for inspiration.  They're the ones that inspired me to start this little yearly project.

Recently Added to My Bookshelf

1.  Descent into Chaos, Ahmed Rashid
2. Overtaken by Events, Ethan Casey
3. The Battle for God, Karen Armstrong
4. The Brief and Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Díaz
5. What is the What, Dave Eggers
6. The Paul Farmer Reader
7. The Secret History of the American Empire, John Perkins
8. Justice, Michael J. Sandel
9.  When the Body Says No: Understanding the Stress Disease Connections, Gabor Mate
10. The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck
11. Of Human Bondage, W. Somerset Maugham
12. Unaccustomed Earth, Jhumpa Lahiri
13. The Diary of Anias Nin, Volume 1
14. The Duel, Tariq Ali
15. The Crossing, Cormic McCarthy
16. Cities of the Plain, McCarthy
17. No Country For Old Men, McCarthy
18. The Road, McCarthy
19. Develpment as Freedom, Amartya Sen
20.  Failed States, Noam Chomsky
21. Sex at Dawn, Christopher Ryan and Cacilda Jethá

Reassesment

Dear Blog,

I've been away for a while.  I'm sorry about that.  I've just been so very busy with school and work and many more excuses that I will not name here.  Now it's safe to say that I am back.  I've lowered my Netflix subscription to the smallest possible plan keeping me from hours of online television watching, I've purchased myself subscriptions to the Economist and Live Station so I can watch Al Jezeera and I've recently added about 20 more books to my book shelves.  Woah.

I know that I must write.  I must write because if I cease to write I will cease to exist.

And that brings me to passion.  Passion for writing.  Passion for human rights and development.  I just finished reading Mountains Beyond Mountains for the third time. For those of you who don't know the book, it's the story of Dr. Paul Farmer. (Actually, it's the story of Tracey Kidder following Dr. Paul Farmer around.)  It is Farmer, not Kidder who inspires me so much.  A medical anthropologist, Farmer is to the medical world what I can only dream of being to the development world.  I've just started The Paul Farmer Reader, an anthology of his writings and lectures on structural violence and his anthropological observations in Haiti.  Farmers words are stunning.  He presents the ever growing suffering of the world by giving voices to those who live their lives behind the walls constructed to keep them out of the view of the rich and comfortable.

As a bright young student with dreams heavily rooted in both international development and anthropology, I take his words and actions as a challenge.  I'm challenged to continually assess the reasons I give for going to school, for engaging in various committees in Student Leadership and for writing.   This is what I do at the start of every year--I reassess.



To be continued...

It Won't Be Like This Forever.

You know what will make me feel better?  Writing a blog. 

I have long been reciting to myself a mantra that sounds like this, “It won’t be like this forever.”  I say it because I know that it’s true.  I won’t always be pulled in a thousand directions, few of which I am passionate about, and being paid nada at a part-time retail job.  But for now I am…

School : 15 hrs/wk

Homework: 15 hrs/wk

Work : 25 hrs/wk

VA for Rachelle : 5 hrs/wk

Ride the bus : 15 hrs/wk

Self-Care: 2-4 hrs/wk

Students Leadership: (PTK, Panel discussion board, Art Auction committee, SPOT committee, Literary Magazine Committee) 2-4 hrs/wk

That equals 84-ish hours a week.

Then…

Friends, Sleep, food, bathing, laundry…If I have time I fit those in.  I also like to read magazines and watching 30 Rock. 

My head is spinning.  But this is how I fix it.

I write, do yoga, breathe, lay very still, eyes closed and breathe in and out. If I do these things everything in the first list is much easier and I am nicer and coherent and not having emotional breakdowns. 

It won’t always be like this, I just need to breathe. 

Magpie Girl on Overcoming Resistance in Your Art.

I'm friends with this very creative soul.  Her name is Rachelle and she is known to us as Magpie Girl.  Over at her blog she coaches us on whimsy, maintaining art through chronic illness and finding spirituality that fits.  She's pretty great at it.  This month is her birthday and as a present to herself she set the ambition goal to tell 30 Stories in 30 Days (a la Ira Glass).  She decide to let fellow bloggers ask her questions and she answers them on their blog. (She has a few spots left if you're interested!)

And so on my blog, the thing which most publicly depicts my resistance, she's going to tell us how she meets resistance head on and give us some advise on how to overcome it. 

Without further adieu, I present Rachelle...

Q: How do you overcome resistance in your art?

Ironically, I’ve been staring at this blank page for two hours now. I checked Twitter. I renewed my driver’s license. Paid a few bills. But have I written this post? No. No I have not.

Resistance is the artist greatest enemy. Full stop. And it comes from within.

Yeah, it bites.

Here are some tips and techniques for dealing with resistance:

Set Yourself Up
The number-one thing I do to break through resistance is to set myself forced deadlines. My son-adopted-by-affection is a big fan of self-directed education. He was unschooled in high school and spent his first year post-graduation self-educating. That works for some people. But others, like ..ehm...me…need a deadline if anything is ever going to get done. So set yourself a deadline, and make sure others know about it. Sell seats in a class before all the materials are done. Set a hard date that the next project will be available by. Tell someone you are going to write 30Stories in 30Days. Jolie Guillebeau promised 100 Paintings in 100 Days. Julie Powell pledged to cook through Julia Child’s entire French cookbook in a year. Sure, it would be nice if you were more mature and could get it done without someone breathing down your neck. But if deadlines are your thing, you might as well roll with it. Why fight functionality?

Know Your Cycle
At what point in your creative cycles is resistance most likely to strike? Make a note of it. You may not know how to keep resistance from striking. But if you know when it’s most likely to occur, then you can tell yourself “this too shall pass.” Think of it like your period. Sure you feel little nuts for a few days. But you level out eventually. If you aren’t aware of the stages of the creative cycle, or where yours gets all resistance-y, this might help.

Set the Timer
Get a kitchen timer and just start working. Put paint on the canvas, write words on a page. It doesn’t have to be a part of your finished product. You just need to get started. I usually set mine for 20 minutes. In 10 minutes I might not be in the groove. But if I set it for 20 and just start working, by the time the bell sounds I’m usually on a roll and don’t want to quit.

Personalize Your Gremlins
Resistance is definitely a gremlin. You might as well name it. (Mine is called Pinkerton.) When resistance raises its annoying little head, follow these tips. Pinkerton would also like to give you this. (He’s being a very good boy now.)

Become Pavlov’s Dog
I said this before about getting through administrative tasks, and it also applies to breaking through resistance around making your art. This technique works regardless of your art form. It involves picking a favorite “working song” or set of songs and playing it every time you sit down to work. Eventually you pattern your brain to twig into working as soon as you hear the familiar refrains. I still use a disc of trip hop that a friend made me eight years ago. When resistance is at its strongest, I break out those tunes and the muscle memory of typing takes over.

Show up at the Page
Any number of writers will tell you that the key to their success was to show up consistently to the page (or the easel, or the blow torch…you get the idea.) Most of them advocate for showing up at the same time every day. That’s nice if you are a full time artist. But for the rest of us, it’s more catch when catch can. If you can pick just one day/time of the week that is your time to make art, and hit it every week for 10 weeks, you will have gone a long way to establishing a working ritual for yourself. When you pick your time slot, keep functionality in mind. It would be lovely if you could write every morning at 5am, but will that work for you? I spent a lot of time feeling wimpy for the fact that I cannot write before noon. Finally I stopped resisting, planned my day around the fact that I would get the bulk of my work done between 12-3, and went with it. What’s your most functional time? Save some of it for your art if you can.

Read This Book
If you do nothing else for your art, read this: The War of Art by Steve Pressfield. Ignore the unrelentingly male warmonger-y title and just buy it. You art is worth fighting for.

The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles

P.s. After two hours of resistance to this post, I wrote the whole thing in three songs. You can do it. Be a resistance fighter.

More on Resistance from Magpie Girl:
Writing and Resistance
Mantras for Writers

Rachelle Mee-Chapman, specializes in customized soulcare for spiritual misfits. She works with clients at Magpie Girl to help them find a spirituality that fits; and hosts Flock, an online soulcare community. You can learn more about her creative approach in her free ecourse, Magpie Speak: a new vocabulary for soulcare.  
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The Journey is Life Itself.

"A journey shows us not only the world, but how we fit in it."

I've been thinking a lot about my travels.  How much they changed me.  How much I define myself by the places I've been.  I often say "I'm homesick for the world."  This has been one of those weeks. I am homesick for all the places I've been, but mostly for the places I have not.  I can't help but wonder what part of myself awaits me there?  Who am I in that place.  I think the key to opening that part of me lies in the thing I only experience there.  What is the thing and where is there? 

Full Moon Dream Board: Lean Into the Cycle, But Don't Fall In.

September Full Moon came and went. And apparently it was special because it was the Harvest moon and it coincided with the fall equinox.  I missed all that. I've not been sleeping.  I've not been sleeping well anyway.  Have you noticed that I've also not be writing?  I haven't.  Not here, not there.  Not in a box with a fox. Not anywhere.  I'm just tired. 

So, BAM!  New month.  New school quarter. New art. 

"Lean Into the Cycle, But Don't Fall In" is based on one of the lessons from the Magpie Speak course.  The lesson was about managing the craziness that is often paired with the creative cycle.  For each cycle there is a "handy mantra" to help us cope with some of the stress each part of the cycle will likely cause.  I listed them down the right side. 

• "The right thing will come at the right time."
• "Nothing is ever wasted."
• "One step at a time."
• "Breathe the next breath. Write the next line."
• "This too shall pass." 

I find the cycle comforting and helpful in explaining some of the tiredness I feel at times.  As my gears shift this fall into a new schedule (and a crazy one at that), I want to remember to take a moment each day to check in with myself and remind myself of all the above.  But I want to make sure that the control the cycle has over me and the control I have over the cycle are balanced.  I don't to fall into the cycle so far that I get lost.  I'd like to keep my head above water. 

Power Stories with Magpie Girl

Hi Mom! And any other random readers out there.  I know I've not been around here much.  I've kind of gone inwards lately.  It's been a good time for me to evaluate my writing and my education and I am finding that while it feels like a sacrifice now, I love the path I am on and where it is leading me.  

Part of that path involves my new(ish) job working as a Virtual Assistant to Rachelle Mee-Chapman of Magpie Girl and Flock. She's offering a new course in a couple of weeks called Power Stories and I'm excited to share this little interview we did with you.  I recommend signing up.  Enjoy! 

1.      What inspired you to develop and offer your readers this course?

My post *8Things I know about Standing in Your Own Power really resonated with Magpie Girl readers, and people emailed me asking for more information and advice.  I’m always excited by topics that emerge organically from the community. So I created more material around the topic, since it was such a felt need.  Many women struggle with standing in the truth of who they are.  Institutions, male influence, cultural images of “ideal” women – all these can push us around. Yet my young daughters, ages 10 and 12, intuitively stand in their own power. This tells me we aren’t meant to shrink and hide ourselves. I believe we can recover the ability to be powerful.

2.      How did you decide what other voices to bring into the class and what do you think the diversity of voices brings to the course? 

 Because learning to stand in my own power is a growing-edge for me, I wanted to recruit partners in the process. I thought of women who just hum with power, confidence, and kindness; and invited them to participate in the course. The lessons I received back from them were incredible! Having so many voices in our teaching pool helps us learn from a wide range of life experience – gay/straight/bi, married/divorced/single; child-free/mothers, 30/40/50 – there are so many perspectives amongst the contributors; it’s bound to meet the needs of far more people than my voice alone could impact.

3.      Do you have a favorite aspect of the Power Stories?

I’m really pleased that it has collection of learning tools – essays, podcasts, videos, and worksheets.  That variety makes it very textured and accessible. And I love how communal it is – both that the idea for the course emerged out of the Magpie Girl community, and that it is lead by a collection of amazing teachers. Plus I get a kick out of some of the downloadable treats my design partner is cooking up!

4.      How does Power Stories tie into the other work you do on Magpie Girl, and Flock ? 

 At Magpie Girl I provide care for creative souls. At Flock we are building an online soultribe for spiritual misfits. Power Stories offers a skill-set that both communities need. Magpies need to stand in their own power to develop their artistic voice and to make room for creative pursuits. Flock members need a deep-rooted stance to support them as they re-define faith and spiritual practice in their own powerful terms.

5.      How will the course fit into busy lives?
You can read each lesson in Power Stories (or do each worksheet) as they arrive in your email box   every couple of days. Or you can save them up and give yourself a bunch soulcare goodness on a self-styled weekend retreat. It’s up to you. Plus, I’m sort of a lackadaisical minimalist. I like a nice turn of phrase, but I don’t want to read filler. So each piece of material is honed to be beautifully to the point.

ART POST: You can wear a watch, but don't count on it.

I'm slightly obsesses with these wonderful watch and clock pieces I found at the Fremont Sunday Market.  Here you go.  (Some day I'll figure out how to take a decent picture, for now these will have to do.)

ART POST: Trees

These paintings don't have a name.  I was trying to use up some paint chips I had gathered at the store for another project and this is what came of them.  I love trees.  Very much.  I also wanted to see what happened when I watered down acrylic paint to almost water color.   I kinda like these...a lot.

ART POST: The Namesake

Recently I read The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri.  It left some big impressions on me.  The cover in particular inspired a series of paintings.  I've never really painted before so I went the art store, bought some supplies and began to paint.  I name the series after the book.  All the paintings are acrylic on wood.

Full Moon Dream Board: I Am Not A Fraud.

This week my free-will horoscope said:

Are you slipping into one of those moods in which you feel like a fraud? Are you starting to worry that maybe you're not who you say you are? If so, I want to remind you of what happened the last time these feelings got stirred up: You became super motivated to prove that you are indeed who you say you are. And that had a most wonderful effect, didn't it? It led you to locate and call on resources you hadn't known you could have access to; it spurred you to purge some self-deception from your system; and it roused you to intensify your commitment to rigorous authenticity. How about an encore?

I don’t care if you believe in the authenticity or even the holiness of horoscopes—wisdom is wisdom and this is exactly where I find myself this month.  I feel a little like a fraud.

I had an interesting encounter with my writing this quarter.  Kerouac, Burroughs, Ginsberg—they all made me want to put down my pen.  They did to me whatever the opposite of inspire is. But my Government and Politics of the Middle East class has had me enthralled all quarter writing papers on topics I found so interesting I wish I could have wrote a whole book on them. 

Needless to say, I feel very unbalanced artistically. 

I wrote an article a few months ago for Ocsplora about my contradicting desires.  These desires match exactly to my feeling of being a fraud.  How can I, one little person, want everything at the same time?  But I’m not a fraud and I do want them, so this month’s Full Moon Dream Board represents that. 

First, the puzzle and chain link fence.  Both of these images pertain to art.  The puzzle is whimsical, natural, round edges around every piece.  The fence is a metal, rigid, mathematical pattern.  Both are art.  I want to find the balance between the two.

The girls.  In the bottom left corner is the image of person made out of pins.  I often feel like I’m on pins and needles, a ghost of person and stagnant.  The girl walking down the country path is a whole person with flowing hair and is warm in a surrounding that is cool.  She is moving forward down her path to what is next.

Home.  Ah, there it is—my cabin by the lake.  (Ok, this is not really what I picture, but it’s close.)  There she is nestled into the trees and the field and I know the lake is nearby because that part of the picture was torn out and has been hanging on my bedroom wall for years. The upside down picture is Istanbul, my other home.  These represent my desire to be in one place and travel the world.  

The Last Poem I Wrote Before All the Rest Were Lost...

Five years ago today my house burned down.  In my purse was a copy of the last poem I wrote before the fire.  The sole survivor.

March 2005

The one I call myself

I find I barely know

When all I see falls away

All I can touch

Becomes no more

I’m left in the dark

Among the stillness

I wish I didn’t know

I long for a touch

A whisper in the dark

To sweep me away

And carry me home

To that place where I know you wait

The place where I can see all that is, has been and will be

All this was to lead to one place

The place where time is no more

Fear is no more

Tears are no more

And when all is stripped away

I’m left there all alone

With the one who knows me better

Knows me more

I see that all that was me

Was a broken image of a tattered man

Who was blinded by a nature not his own. 

An Angry and Judgmental Poem (The author acknowledges her bitterness, but cannot keep silent)

Once I had a vision

About a mother and a child

Both cast away.

Breaking hearts unheard

Under layer after layer

Of blue.

They were in a field.

Surrounded by plastic figurines.

These army toys

Propelled their weapon of choice-

Rocks,
Which fell like iron rain

Exceeding the force of gravity.

But they didn’t know why.

Their own women and children watching.

Their undiscerning hearts unable to hear

Compassion.

Calloused by the teachings of the wise

Who exchange reason for madness*,

And no longer explore the depths of love--

The only protection they could be afforded.

Unbearable, unsightly, intolerable

The shame

Of utter innocence

Turned into forced delinquency

Producing life non-the-less,

That when revealed would promise death.

*Gandolf

Full Moon Dream Board: Peace

So ends my four-day writing marathon. (It was more like four and half really).  I have a word count, but I feel like it is really no way to measure what happened inside me this weekend.

I lived. 

I’ve started my first real piece of fiction (I say “real” because I’ve written fiction before I’m sure, but never seriously.)  Currently my characters are still only giving me the beginning of their stories—their tragic stories.  I am begging them to give me a glimpse of their futures so that I can trust that their story redeems. 

Being the narrator has always frightened me because for so long I was convinced that God had an “ultimate will” for me.  I have come to believe, to much relief, that in fact, the joy of writing my own story is before me.  As the author, I have created these characters with names and faces and fathers and fears.  I’m hovering above somewhere, hiding behind a tree maybe, and I can see the torment they feel.  But I don’t know yet what they will choose tomorrow.  I want to interfere, to control the story.  But I will not.  It is their story, not mine to tell.  I can only plea with them…

                                             Thoughts on Fiction

                                             29 Mar 10

I want to write a redemptive ending,

But I don’t know if my characters will let me.

They’re stuck

Somewhere between the ninth hole, the Baring Sea and delivery day.

And they are running from,

If not paralyzed by,

The fear

Of an ever growing roundness protruding from her belly.

My dear characters, may your joy grow with each day.  We are hoping for you. 

And while I am hoping for my characters, I can only pray that someone is hoping for me.  I was amazed, ashamed and confused by some of the things that crept out of me over the last few days.  Solitude and expression can do that.  Anxiety has been overwhelming me. I’ve spent moments sitting silently; asking the screaming little girl inside what she needs to say. 

She wants to be accepted.  I guess that means           

I want to be accepted. 

Yael Naim - Far, Far

As these and other beautiful and hideous thoughts rage through my being (I swear I can feel them in every joint), I know that there must be somewhere they can be placed where some other power can quiet them and I continue on in peace. 

Because peace is beautiful. 

How convenient that the moon is full and birthing creativity and excitement.  I shall use her offering of energy and offer her back my creativity.  I made a box.  Not just any box—a beautiful box.  The tag on the front reads “everything will be okay in the end…it’s not the end.”  Inside this box I will place my fears, crazies and gremlins.  (I suggest taking a listen to this and embracing the restful breaths it offers to the creative soul.)  I’m sure it will fill fast but that guarantees that I can fill with peace and light. 

And so I end my evening with a cupa, a warm meal and The Science of Sleep.  The rain will sing me to sleep tonight, like she has the past few nights and tomorrow I will wake and write again. 

Live at peace,

Jenn

2010 Book List-This Year With Reviews

Book reviews terrify me.  I'm not sure why.  Probably because I just spent hours taking it all in and now you want me to spit out a few sentences summarizing the book.  But, last year I sped through fifty books without giving a single review.

Here's my list so far this year.  I'd say it's pretty impressive considering the quarter I had.  I'm working on quiet a few books over my break and have a good list for the spring including the ones for school.  

Please add your suggestions.  I have more than enough books on my shelf to read, I'll probably buy plenty more, but I want to know you are reading and get some suggestions.  

1.  Stones Into School, Greg Mortenson  

Written in what feels like a rush and using a bazillion pages to tell the Central Asia Institute’s story in Afghanistan (a story that was hinted at in Three Cups of Tea), this book floored me; the Afghani men who represent the antithesis of the Taliban, the desperate fervor for life.  Afghanistan may hold my heart more than any other nation.  Afghanistan has the second highest illiteracy rate the in the world and not only one of the highest birth rates (seven births to each women), but the country’s infant and maternal mortality rates are just as high.   I could go on forever, at least fifteen pages, as that’s how long my research paper was this quarter.  But I suggest, for the hopeful side of the story, you read Stones Into Schools.   Mortenson presents a look at the Taliban, the most forgotten people in the most remote corner of the world and how pockets of the US Military are changing their approach.  Every page of this book cries out “everything must change.”  And I cried through every page. 

2.  The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien

How many reviews have been written on LOTR?  Must I give another?  Let me say this much—the trilogy stands as a testament to passion.  The amount of time and creative energy that was spent for its purpose are evident through every word of every made up language.   The culture of creativity is seen in every character.  And the book reminds me, above all, that even if I were to know all that would hinder me along the way, the journey is still worth every step, every tear and every crumb of Lembas. 

3.  Savage Beauty, The Life of Edna St. Vincent Milay, Nancy Milford

I’m sorry to say that I could not finish this book.  In fact, I could barely start it.  While Vincent ranks right up there with Zelda and Sylvia in tortured famous females, there are a lot of pages filled with very little depiction of the world outside of Vincent’s own mind.  The author herself writes in a such a straightforward manner that I believe it actually contrasts with the manic nature of Vincent too much.  As a result, I could not engage with either fully. 

* Veiled Threat: The Hidden Power of the Women of Afghanistan, Sally Armstrong

This was a book for school, so it doesn’t actually count for my twenty-five, but it is worth making a note of.  Armstrong, a Canadian journalist, follows the story of RAWA through the refugee camps of Pakistan and parts of Afghanistan.  Veiled Threat exemplifies the kind of writing I most want to do.  She gives a history of the women, the Taliban and the current war and provides the stories of the Women who have endured all of it and have continued to fight for their own futures.  This is one of the most captivating books I have read on the subjects of both Afghanistan and women’s right.  

4. The War of Art, Steven Pressfield 

What can I say?  The day I opened this book on the bus, I stayed on the bus for a few extra stops, planted myself in Stumptown and skipped class.  The next day I called a counselor.  Being an honest person, I will say that I am a drama ridden, justified hypochondriac. I hate this about myself and have often wondered where this comes from? The book has helped me explore some of the roots of these character flaws and see how the directly relate to my creative expression.  Pressfield doesn’t leave anything untouched.  He address the ways artists try to escape the pull of our art, he draws the picture of a professional and shows you just how much time you need to put in to make your work sustainable, never once sugarcoating his own long journey to success.  The Art of War is wise, contemplative and raw.  It’s kicks your ass. 

Working on Now

5. The Two Towers, J.R.R. Tolkien

6. Snow, Orhan Pamuk

7. On Writing, Stephen King

8. A Poetry Handbook, Mary Oliver

The Spring Reading List

9. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott

* On the Road, Jack Kerouac (for my Beat Generation Lit. class)

* Naked Lunch, William S. Burroughs (for my Beat Generation Lit. class)

* The Pocket Beat Reader (for my Beat Generation Lit. class)

10.  Half the Sky, Nicholas D. Kristof

11. A Moveable Feast: The Restored Edition, Ernest Hemingway  

Thoughts on the Summer Books           

12. Strength in What Remains, Tracy Kidder

13. The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

14. The Outliners, Malcolm Gladwell

15. What the Dog Saw, Malcolm Gladwell

16. What is the What, Dave Eggers

15. Zeitoun, Dave Eggers

16. The Kite Runner, Khaled Housseini

17. The Bookseller of Kabul, Åsne Seierstad

18. The Evolution of God, Robert Wright

19. Middlesex, Jeffrey Eugenides

20. I really am not at a loss of books here…But I’m leaving room for suggestions.  Help!!

21.

22.

23.

24.

25.

If you wrote your life story, what would the first line be?

Insomnia has struck again.  The reasons are obvious.  I have been obsessed with writing and have spent most of my time the last few days sitting at my desk moving nothing but my fingers.  I tried to go the gym, but apparently they are open twenty-four hours a day every day but Saturday.  So I did yoga in my room and then wrote some more.  It’s four AM.  I think the neighbors (the ones who live in a van on my street) are having a rock concert. I am wide awake and suddenly obsessed with the first lines of stories.  So, like any sane person I went through every one of my books and recorded the first line of the ones that struck me. 

Please enjoy

“EVERYTHING WITHIN TAKES PLACE AFTER JACK DIED AND BEFORE MY MOM AND I DROWNED IN A BURNING FERRY IN THE COOL TANNIN-TINTED GUAVIARE RIVER IN EAST-CENTRAL COLOMBIA, WITH FORTY-TWO LOCALS WE HADN’T YET MET. “ –Dave Eggers, You Shall Know Our Velocity

Sometimes, I sleep with Dave’s books.  Now that I saw that out loud, it sounds creepy. This, on the other hand is incredibly intriguing.  

“By the time you finish reading this book, ten thousand children will starve, four thousand will be brutally beaten by their parents, and one thousand will be raped.” – Peter Kreft, Making Sense Out of Suffering

I almost didn’t add this one because well, it’s traumatizing.  But then, maybe that’s why it should be included

“Then there was bad weather.” –Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

            I will read this book once a year until I die.  One day I will read it in Paris. 

“I am old now and have not much to fear from the anger of gods.” –C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces

            This is possibly the first book I ever read that truly left me speechless.

“No one ever told me that grief feels so much like fear.” –C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

This book has always come to me at the most needy times. Last year I read it after reading The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, the same day a good friend died. It was a pretty hard week. 

“Sometimes I feel as though I were born in a circus, come of my mother’s womb like a man from a cannon, pitched toward the ceiling of the tent, all the doctors and nurses clapping in delight from the grandstands, the band going great guns in trombones and drums.” –Donald Miller, Searching For God Knows What

            Dear Don, write me letters will you?

“It was one of those nights, one of those lovely nights, dear reader, which can only happen when you are young.” –Frodor Dostoevsky, “White Nights: A Sentimental Love Story”

            Yay for the Russians! Yay for short stories! Yay for Sentimental love stories!

“When Mr. Bilbo Bagins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his elventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobiton.” –J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Whenever I read these books I usually spend the first hour on the first line.  It’s magical.  And then I spend the next hour wondering how the hell he got from there to Mount Doom and why he never thought of this…

 
“As a child, I had a number of strong religious beliefs but little faith in God.” –Karen Armstrong, A History of God.

Perhaps the one woman who has helped make more sense out of God than I have been able to find anywhere else, except, of course, for Anne Lamott...

“On my forty-ninth birthday, I decided that all of life was hopeless, and I would eat myself to death.” –Anne Lamott, Plan B

My dear Anne Lamott, in the words of Kelly Clarkson, “My life would suck without you.”  Thank you, Anne, most sincerely, for allowing me to be myself and think all my crazy thoughts and still be sane (mostly).  And mostly, thank you for believing enough in the human race to write about them with truthful aggravation and expansive compassion.