Tag: Inspiration

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

We’ve entered vacation season (not that we Friends don’t travel widely throughout the year). While it also means that our attendance is likely to be down through the summer, it also means we’re likely to have visitors from, well, just about everywhere – people I expect we’ll welcome warmly.

It also means we’ll have the opportunity in our own travels to attend other Meetings, something I strongly encourage. For the truly adventurous, worshiping with Friends in the “other” streams can be stimulating and thought-provoking. A pastor? A choir? Hymnals? I always learn something. Last time, it was silent singing. Another time, that the Evangelical Friends can have just as much of a cat-herding condition as we do. Memories of a humorous exchange with the baritone sitting next to me in the choir.

There’s also a curiosity about us, too. “Why did you choose us?” – that, in the pastoral meeting style, rather than the unprogrammed worship a dozen miles away. I could have given any of a dozen reasons, but eventually got down to the part, “Besides, I have the book” – meaning a collection of historic essays and oral histories made before the village was flooded by a Corps of Engineers dam, and the new meetinghouse built out along the highway. And then, in the give-and-take of quick conversation, receiving that priceless look and gentle reply, “It’s all fiction.” As a writer, I had to laugh, knowing all too well how difficult it is to get any story right. The quick exchange followed by some suggestions of sites to poke about afterward, if I had time.

I come home with a renewed appreciation for every visitor who ventures through our doorway. With a little more flexibility in our own open worship. With my own additional chapter to a well-used book on the shelf behind me. And with an expanded awareness of our body as a Society of Friends.

YET ANOTHER PILE OF OBSOLESCENCE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 7 Comments

Years ago my father gave me a small metal cabinet with 18 one-inch-deep plastic drawers, each 2.5-by-6 inches. It was intended to hold screws, nuts and bolts, and other small items for the household repair shop – but mine wound up in my studio, where it holds small items of the writer’s trade. An artist’s pencil sharpener, push pins, souvenir fossils and flakes of mica, fountain pen cartridges, staples (for the stapler), a measuring tape, clothespins, business cards, foreign coins, colorful paperclips in both small and large sizes.

The last item – three of the drawers, in fact – recently stopped me cold.

Not so long ago, or so it seemed, I started collecting them at the office as we went through the mail. My literary work at home included a hefty dose of correspondence – not just submissions, either – and the bright-color clips seemed a much brighter option than the usual shiny steel in circulation.

As I gazed on them this time, though, I started to wonder what I’ll really be doing with them. Submissions are all done online these days, as is most correspondence, even of the personal streak. Maybe I’ll clip materials together when offering a workshop here or there, but I’ll never go through my stash.

Add to that the manila envelopes and cardboard backing, the loud bursts of colorful folders and binders, even the three bottles of typewriter correction fluid.

Not too long ago I wanted more filing cabinets, but as elder daughter informs me, folks can’t even give those away these days. Besides, I stopped printing out manuscripts long ago. Talk about downsizing?

Makes me wonder what’s next to go. Not that I’m really comfortable with any of these changes.

A SECLUDED COURTYARD, IF YOU WILL

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

I’ve already mentioned it, the patio-like space beside the barn where we grill and dine through the summer. The place we call the Smoking Garden.

Originally, I envisioned it as a haven for the kids’ grandmother to sit with her cigarettes, but she never used it. Preferred the porch to the barn, if anywhere.

We inherited the arrangement when we bought the place. A couple of thick maple branches had to be removed, since they were blocking any passage at chest level. But the round fiberglass table was already in place, with pea-gravel on the ground and three adjoining panels I’ve since cleared and planted.

Now we’ve added tiki torches and twinkling Christmas lights overhead, plus the hammock.

Pour me a glass, please. Turn up the music.

~*~

 let me praise the secluded outdoor corner
as part of an urban dwelling:
a patio or deck
(my last apartment lacked one)
the courtyard with a fountain
a large porch or gazebo
at the least, a place to sit
or, better yet, cook
any place close enough to the kitchen
with a degree of privacy and a view of something

Poem copyright 2015 by Jnana Hodson

CRACKLING IN OUR AIR

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

In blogging here, I’ve generally tried to steer clear of current events, as in political and economic news. Even my reflections on the weather have been, I hope, along a larger or more timeless horizon than mere day-to-day changes. Think of watching the grass grow.

But I do live in New Hampshire, and the campaigns for the November 8, 2016, presidential election are already generating daily front-page headlines here. Remember, that’s nearly a year-and-a-half away.

The primary is tentatively set for February 9, but that could move up, depending. We hate when it clashes with Christmas.

The point is, politics is already crackling in our air. How can I possibly avoid it?

FOR THE WIDER GOOD

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 4 Comments

Be wary of folks who seem to believe they’re better than the rest of us. (They’re likely to expect more than their share.)

Yes, respect superior skills and abilities, especially when they’re used for the wider good.

But see through the mask, as well.

(Oh, I hope I’m not wearing mine …)

ALL THE FITNESS THAT FITS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

Physical fitness has never been high on my list of priorities. Not the ones that actually find action. Yes, there have been stages where hatha yoga was a routine activity. And getting ready for mountain trails could be another.

Right after college, as I mentioned a while back, I did swim indoor laps through one winter – maybe two or three times a week.

So here I am, in retirement, getting back into the swimming – in part a consequence of elder daughter’s Christmas gift of a yearlong pass to the city’s indoor pool, and in part due to the urging of my physician.

It’s interesting watching the stages of adjustment here.

The first month, three laps – a mere three – were my limit of ability. And that was a fight, three times a week. A fight for air. A fight to get to the end of the lane. It was embarrassing.

Slowly, I’ve been edging up to 10 laps a day, five days a week. Sometimes more.

Each length of the pool has its own kind of stroke, a rotation of free-style, back, breast, and each side. It helps keeping count, too.

Since nine laps is a bit more than a quarter-mile, it’s adding up.

With my sinuses and allergies, breathing will always be a problem. At least I’m able to do half of my lengths without the nose clips now. (What a relief!)

One breakthrough came in sensing I was no longer fighting to get from one end to the other but instead engaging the resistance of the water to my advantage. That’s not the same as being at home in the water or even relaxed, but it does change the relationship.

And then there was the recognition of moments of ease – say in the glide pushing off from the end or easing off at the other, or the lift between strokes.

The other afternoon, pausing before returning to my car, I realized I was exhausted, as I always am after the laps. But there was also another sensation. I felt GOOD. As in satisfied.

Allelujah!

WHALE WATCH

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 4 Comments
Humpback, launching a deep dive.
Humpback, launching a deep dive.
Often, several whale watch tours will circle in the same vacinity.
Often, several whale watch tours will circle in the same vicinity.

One of the traditions I established after moving to New England meant venturing out for a whale watch each year. You never know what you’ll encounter. Sometimes it’s only a minke whale or two – the smallest of the ones we have. Or, at times, it becomes more than you can count.

The whales have the most beautiful light blue underbellies, visible if you get close enough.
The whales have the most beautiful light blue underbellies, visible if you get close enough.

In the past dozen years, though, the custom’s fallen by the wayside. Just too much else to do – and the ticket price has gone up. But as a way of getting out to sea, it’s still a cheap cruise … and it can be very peaceful, if you don’t get seasick on the way.

WHAT WAS I THINKING?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

Every writer, we can presume, has plans for the next work – or several. Tackling them, of course, can be another matter altogether, especially if the schedule’s already full, even before we get to the overdue house and garden projects. Or some equivalent.

Listen to other writers, by the way, and you’ll hear just how much of that schedule now focuses on marketing, including social media, to push already published work instead of doing the, well, not exactly “fun” part (it is, after all, work) but the passionate core that prompts the entire enterprise: drafting and revising. The very thing that makes us writers.

For me, much of that has also involved moving four decades of serious writing, however experimental, into the public access where adventurous readers might find the volumes. Places like Smashwords.com and my Thistle/Flinch site here at WordPress. To be candid, the backlog was inhibiting my ability to forge ahead on new work – not exactly writer’s bloc, but something more like claustrophobia? Having the remaining novels in the pipeline for ebook publication is a huge relief.

Let me repeat, though, about the necessity of marketing and how that should be the focus.

What’s taken root over the past several months, though, is another novel. One that just might pull my Hippie Trails series together a half-century later. That is, something that covers far more than just ’60s and ’70s. Am I crazy?

Well, maybe. What’s shaping up is far different from anything I’ve previously undertaken.

For one thing, I’m starting with an overarching structure – something approaching an outline, rather than my usual setting forth on a journey to see where an image or character or idea will lead. And then there’s little autobiographical here; it’s largely new territory, apart from tying up some loose ends from the earlier novels. The dictum, “Write about what you know,” gets readjusted to “Write about what you would like to know,” meaning more about certain ethnic groups I’ve encountered, businesses I’ve brushed up against, spiritual practices, histories, desires, losses. I’m even beginning with a commercial genre in mind, which means drafting from a perspective and in a voice far from my own.

I’m not sure this is a work I’ll actually finish. It may be too difficult. Or it may become more of a collaboration, perhaps with a circle of beta readers set at liberty to edit at will. (Have I ever written of my theory that what we know as Shakespeare was the product of a circle of very talented improvisers, whose inventions were recorded by the playwright? Almost a committee, if you will, except for his imprint on the final version.)

Different from anything else I’ve done to date? How about needing to finish a draft of the last chapter, along with a stretch of the opening, before writing anything else? Or heading off with 80 or so pages of notes for the middle, plus questions to pursue? It’s certainly driven by the characters and events that turn in directions I’d normally avoid.

What I do know from experience is how crucial it is to sit down at the keyboard when these juices are flowing.