Posts tagged ‘writing’

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August 1, 2021

“Walking Loudly”

by lisa st john

They say time changes things, but you have to actually change them yourself.”

Andy Warhol
Maine Sunset
Sikander

It’s been quite a while since my last blog post. That’s because I’ve been busy changing. I retired from teaching and started writing full time. I’ve finished a memoir and become a grandmother (Nana!) twice. The times are always a’ changing.

Once I could move about the world a little more freely (don’t get me started on the anti-vaxxers), I took some trips. Most recently, I saw a fabulous exhibit at The Morgan Library in NYC. I went to see the bookbinding exhibit but was blown away by Shahzia Sikander: Extraordinary Realities. Manuscript painting turned modern. Fascinating.

Since I had some time, I also dropped by my favorite museum in the city, The Museum of Modern Art (MOMA). When I think of Cezanne, I think of color, but the exhibit of his drawings was eye-opening. It was like peeking into an artist’s brain.

Been peeking into my own mind quite a bit lately. I’m learning how to live the writer’s life. Some things, like my love of visual art, will never change. But this metamorphosis I am undergoing…it’s all good.

I post more regularly on Instagram and Twitter, but I hope to keep this blog going on a monthly basis. See you in September.

“Waking Loudly” is from Marie Ponsot’s amazing poem Springing.

Cezanne

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July 13, 2020

You Say Goodbye, and I Say Hello

by lisa st john

The scariest moment is always just before you start. –Stephen King

 

doorGoodbye 24 year teaching career. Hello writing life. Is it that simple, though? I thought I could teach full time and write part-time, but that proved impossible. The kids will always come first, and they should. But, maybe I can write full time and teach part-time. I can still advise the Poetry Club, and I can substitute teach (whatever these things will look like in September). Teaching isn’t something you ever really stop–it’s a calling, like writing.

It’s easier to say goodbye than hello because hello is the unknown. Hello is walking into a party alone when you’re not sure why you showed up at all when you could be home with a good book. Can you tell that quarantine hasn’t been that big of a stretch for me?

Van Morrison captures how I feel in his lines, “If my heart could do my thinking and my head began to feel…I’d know what’s truly real.” (“I Forgot that Love Existed“) I thought I could structure my day, being the ADD and OCD Virgo (B******t) that I am, like I did at school. Monday mornings will be editing time, Monday afternoons for poetry writing, Tuesday mornings for memoir writing, et cetera.

But art isn’t like that.

I need to wake up and listen to my body, not my brain. Suzi Banks Baum teaches this when she states that creative practice is, “… a way of bypassing my head that yearns for product-oriented work and allows me to dwell lushy in the wisdom of the feminine.”

chaos

Lest anyone think I have traded in my atheistic rationality for some hoo-doo (I wouldn’t want my Skeptic Society card taken away), let me just say that spiritual connection to the muse is no joke. Elizabeth Gilbert explains it well in her TED Talk, “Your Elusive Creative Genius.” I rewatch it whenever that smoky, dark fungus called you can’t comes creeping around.

I’ve found that sometimes I work best in chaos. The jackhammer tearing up the old stairs to make way for a new room, the cars going by, the radio (sometimes) on–this is good. Often, I work best outside hoping for hummingbird sightings and grateful that my living space gets so much bigger in the good weather.

blueSo, I started listening to myself each morning. Do I feel a new blog post coming on? Is that poem ready for submission? Should I continue with the memoir? Maybe I should finish reading that novel first. Then there is the daunting task of social media and platform promotion. I might journal or take an online workshop. I could walk the property and look for spiderwebs in the dew. I can check Twitter and see what everyone is saying about Henry James’ Turn of the Screw in a virtual book club discussion via A Public Space. 

In Ruminate’s “The Waking,” Sophfronia Scott, calls it non-writing writing, this time spent with writing but not…writing. So if people ask how much I write a day, I cannot respond in numbers. It’s either a good writing day or it’s not.

Hello, goodbye…both ends and beginnings.

Today was a good day.flower

 

 

 

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June 30, 2020

Nesting for Change

by lisa st john

I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge—even wisdom. Like art. –Toni Morrison

 

The idea of nesting invokes permanence, but I am not expecting a new baby. I am preparing for Change. Retiring from teaching public high school and moving on to writing full time is taking a risk, sure. But who are we if we don’t take risks? Retire is the wrong word. I am not withdrawing from anything, just adding on. I will always teach in some way, on some level. That’s what people in love with learning do.

“The illiterate of the 21st century will not be those who cannot read and write, but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and relearn. ” –Alvin Toffler

I spent most of yesterday changing my physical space to reflect changes in my head space. And that head space has been changing a great deal lately. The rage and pain and frustration of murder is straining against the temperament needed to create real change. That’s what the feminine does–create. Our masculine nature helps us fight, and our feminine nature helps us give. A recent workshop, Writing the Rage, Healing the Soul, with Dorothy Randall Gray was a true wake up call. The feelings of helplessness and fear during this literal pandemic (as well as a pandemic of the nation’s soul) were put in their place by Dorothy’s insight. She reminded us that rage has its purpose. Why now? Why George Floyd? What was the tipping point that finally got us enraged enough to riot, to protest? Perhaps it was that George Floyd called for us; he called out to The Mother in us all.


“Calling all Grand Mothers” by Alice Walker

I am forever grateful to the International Women’s Writing Guild for introducing me to Dorothy and her idea of “fierce compassion.”

everything can be useful / except what is wasteful / (you will need
to remember this when you are accused of destruction.) —Audre Lorde

The changes of the past few months have put me through almost every conceivable emotion. But one thing is stable, and that is the power of voice.

I will not feel guilty because I have not physically marched in a protest; I have contributed, and will continue to contribute) to The Black Lives Matter movement in many other ways. I will not feel hopeless when I hear the rising death rates from the Coronavirus (COVID 19). I used, and will continue to use, everything in my power to stop the spread and to help those in need. I vote. I write. I lift. I change.

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December 1, 2018

Apology Accepted

by lisa st john

I apologize (to myself) for not keeping up on my blog writing. Trying to negotiate full-time teaching life with my writing life

has been a struggle.

When I went back to work in September I thought I could marry the two lives. This has proven problematic to say the least.

They don’t want to talk to each other let alone live in the same space. It’s too much like a polygamous situation. I can keep each life in a separate house on my property, and I certainly love them both. But how do I treat them equally? 

What about my needs?

So if it can’t be a marriage, maybe it’s just about the sex. The teaching life is languorous Sunday morning lovemaking. The writing life is up against the wall intense.

No. That metaphor is just too weird. Maybe they are like two stomachs. I need to feed them both, and when one gets empty the other just has to wait its turn.

No. I gain weight instead of progress either way.

Here at The Garrison Institute, where the train cries across the Hudson River and the monastic rooms call for peace, none of these analogies work. Just having the moments to contemplate these ideas is a gift.

The property itself is magical. One writing retreat over a weekend and I have been here forever; I never left. Somehow time lets us push her around a bit, and we can get a week’s worth of thinking and writing done from Friday afternoon to Sunday afternoon.

I have room in my heart for both teaching and writing. I just have to make room in my life. Scooch over sleep. I’ve got work to do.

Thank you Robert Polito and Adam Fitzgerald, for this important weekend. I will carry your words with me.

Thank you Rozanne Gold. I understand now why they are called writing “retreats.”

“Along the Margins of Voice: Writing, Reading & Performance in the 21st Century” November 30-December 2, 2018

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June 1, 2018

Flying Through Time

by lisa st john

I have been living the writing life for almost 12 months. My time to return from my sabbatical as a high school English teachers draws nigh. Like many things I do, this year has been an experiment.

Can I work all day as a writer (instead of spending it binging television)? Yes. Have I learned from workshops, conferences, and–most importantly–trial and error? Yes. Have I made some progress in publishing as well as writing? Yes. Whew. All good.

Here are some snags:
When I am writing my memoir I am reliving the days, months, years of Kent’s cancer. So I can’t always write memoir all day.

When I am writing memoir I miss writing poetry. When I do write some poetry I feel like I am cheating on the memoir behind its back!

When I look at my calendar I am bewildered at the movement of time.

When I look at what I do all day I realize I won’t have this much time come September.

When I think about time it all revolves around Jack. (More on him in a later blog.)

It’s not all snags.

 

I have learned many things.

-It is okay to have two desks; one for emailing and editing and sending work out, and another one for actual writing.

-It’s okay not to write every day; some days are for reading.

-I can organize all of my information at my website, HERE, like when I am doing a reading or how to buy my chapbook.

-I can collaborate with fabulous artists like Anna Gilmore to create a new environment for my work. See DINNER video below.

-Thinking is writing without commitment. 

-Voice memos on my iPhone are surprising golden nuggets when I bother to listen to them.

-Not leaving the house for a day or two (or three or four) is somehow liberating.

-Finding writing venues at which to read and finding publishers for my poetry is a different Lisa than the Lisa writing the memoir. Sometimes they hang out on the same day, sometimes not. They are going to have to get together soon, though. They have to teach September Full Time Teacher Lisa how to cope. I have every confidence in them.

I have Tweeted and Instagrammed and Facebooked about some of these things that happened, but here is a run-down of the latest.

2Elizabeths published nine of my poems in their first anthology, Volume 1: Love and Romance.

Light: A Journal of Photography & Poetry published my poem, “Of Light and Mornings” in their Spring 2018 Issue (available in both digital and print versions).

Eyedrum Periodically published three of my poems in Issue 17: The Future.

I started a new blog for widowed people called Widows’ Words.

My updated publishing creds are on my website and here on this blog’s home page. What I am most impressed with, that aren’t listed here, are all of my rejections. I save them in an email folder and look at them and think, “I did that. I got that out there.”

This blog will always be about writing and poetry and random thoughts. I am enjoying the world of creative non-fiction though. When those pieces get published I will put them on the website.

Time is moving along at her own pace. I move at mine. Sometimes we meet up. The only thing I am certain of is that I am not done yet.

 

 

 

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April 30, 2018

Do We Really Need Definitions? In Defense of Michelle Wolf

by lisa st john

 

I really wanted to write about television binging this month–how I love it. The pros and cons, but I am too flummoxed by the news. Ironically, I was also going to post an analysis of Hulu’s The Handmaid’s Tale Season Two Episode One, but what is distracting me?

The White House Correspondent’s Dinner controversy. Apparently, we actually need definitions of some of these terms, WHY?

So critics of Michelle Wolf can catch up a bit. And then class, after we learn the words we can explain what they mean, okay?

First Amendment: Freedom to say what we want to say (specifically allowing the PRESS to say what it wants to say).

Satire: Using humor to expose stupidity IN ORDER TO PROMOTE CHANGE AND HELP HUMANITY SEE ITS FLAWS.

Sarcasm: Witty language used to insult. Often used in satire.

Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit but the highest form of intelligence –Oscar Wilde. 

Okay. What I find so disconcerting about the backlash of Michelle Wolf’s correspondent’s dinner speech was that people misunderstood the Sarah Sanders eyeliner joke yet totally missed the Aunt Lydia reference.

“I actually really like Sarah. I think she’s very resourceful. She burns facts, and then she uses that ash to create a perfect smoky eye. Like maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s lies. It’s probably lies.” (Wolf transcript)https://www.visitcharlottesville.org/listing/charlottesville-historic-downtown-mall/337/

Now we need to explain the joke, apparently. This is NOT a joke about Sanders’ looks.This is a joke about Sanders’ LIES. Sarah Sanders always has great smoky eye make up. I love it. She burns the facts and uses the ash to make her perfect eyeshadow. Get it now?

“I have to say I’m a little star-struck. I love you as Aunt Lydia in The Handmaid’s Tale. Mike Pence, if you haven’t seen it, you would love it.” (Wolf transcript)

Okay. Aunt Lydia is one of the scariest villains ever. If you haven’t read the book by the incredible Margaret Atwood, you must. In the novel, she is in charge of indoctrinating (here is the definition of indoctrinating for those of you who need help getting Wolf’s jokes) the sex slaves (handmaids). The Hulu version of Aunt Lydia is even more terrifying because in the novel, we never know if Aunt Lydia is just going along with the new regime (albeit extremely) in order to stay alive and in power or if she is a believer in the new tyrannical police state. Hulu expands her character to show just how bat shit crazy she has become.

“She’s most comfortable making room in the world so violence can flourish. Actress Ann Dowd takes full advantage of the role, heightening Aunt Lydia’s zealousness to a point where it almost seems like a caricature … Aunt Lydia is carved in the lineage of villainesses like Nurse Ratched from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Annie Wilkes in Misery, and Mrs. Danvers in Rebecca. Cold, brutal, and obsessed … .” ()

But that’s not what critics are complaining about, no. They are complaining about an eye shadow joke they didn’t get, the use of the word “pussy” (WHO SAID IT FIRST?) and “tampon.”

“[Ivanka] is about as helpful to women as an empty box of tampons.” (Wolf transcript) OMG, did she say (whisper) “tampon”? Women use tampons. An empty box does not help a woman when she is menstruating. Get it?

“It’s up to comedians to shine the light on what’s wrong in the world, and we don’t want things swept under the rug.” –Jeff Ross

I almost forgot the Uncle Tom reference! Okay kids, Uncle Tom refers to a subservient character in Harriet Beecher Stowe‘s infamous novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin. It is not a compliment to call someone an Uncle Tom.

So when Wolf said, “…what’s Uncle Tom but for white women who disappoint other white women? Oh, I know. Aunt Coulter.” She meant that Ann Coulter betrays her people (women) by sucking up and being subservient to the conservative agenda (men). Get it now?

“One of the most bizarre uses of Uncle Tom as an insult, directed at women occurred…when Jane Fonda wanted to criticize conservative women for not performing the women’s movement.” “She said, ‘Let’s face it, you’re all a bunch of Uncle Toms,’” (“Uncle Tomisms” from Accuracy in Academia)

 

 

You’ve just made yourself a new fan Michelle Wolf. You comedian, you funny, me laugh. I’m in.* Can’t wait for THE BREAK on Netflix!

 

 

 

 

 

*Sorry about the multi-syllabic content in this post. If you need moe definitions here you go: Dictionary.

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April 3, 2018

How Blue Can You Go?

by lisa st john

ontology:
1: a branch of metaphysics concerned with the nature and relations of being  Ontology deals with abstract entities.
2: a particular theory about the nature of being or the kinds of things that have existence

How real are Blue Spaces in terms of being good for us?

blue space is defined as; ‘health-enabling places and spaces, where water is at the centre of a range of environments with identifiable potential for the promotion of human wellbeing’. (“Blue Space Geographies: Enabling Health in Place” Foley and Kistemann).

Of course it seems obvious that looking at water or blue skies makes us feel better, but why? How much better? IMG_1610

According to Dr Saliha Afridi, a clinical psychologist and the managing director of The LightHouse Arabia in Dubai, studies show that spending as little as 15 to 30 minutes in nature can increase positive emotions and the ability to reflect on a life problem. “This is best explained by nature’s effect on physiology – heart rates decrease and blood pressure goes down when people spend time looking at nature. When this happens, we are psychologically in a calmer state,” she explains.
IMG_5819-2867282905-1522773783946.jpg
I like a scientific fact to back up what I already want to believe: the ocean makes me feel as good as I can get. In a recent Widow’s Words blog post, I talk about my connection to the ocean and to my late husband, Kent. There is a purity to the inevitability of waves, a homecoming. I also love the duality of the ocean–beauty and danger, calming and fierce.
Scientists are exploring the idea of blue spaces regarding our health and mental well-being. Groups like BlueHealth and other interdisciplinary research teams are paying more attention to blue spaces.
Here are some of the “what ifs” for me:
A virtual reality headset can put me in the ocean for ten minutes so I feel rejuvenated.
Businesses start giving people “blue” days in addition to sick days.
New stores are created where you can purchase “blue time” in individual IMAX rooms.
Doctors can prescribe “blue time” (and you thought medical marijuana was controversial!)
Urban areas start creating blue parks (intentional water spaces both as horizontal lakes and vertical aquariums). 
Fantasy? Maybe. For now. But the fact that the facts are backing up common wisdom gives me hope. Old wives tales, huh? 

 

 

 

ON MAGRITTE’S THE VOICE OF BLOOD (Originally published in The Ekphrastic Review)

Art evokes the mystery without which the world would not exist ― René Magritte

I think we should listen more to
old wives and their tales.

Learn how not to get caught in a storm             (of fear),
not to enter the                                                       (wrong)
doors,
how to avoid the falling stars                               (or catch a ride).

How to let go                                                            (and know)
when trees are silent they are free.

The voice of blood is captured in the geometry of trees and the lie of open windows.

Meandering greys bend in
moonlight’s fortune-telling whispers.          Listen.

There is no color without light.

Listen
to the moonlight shape our
monochromatic truth.

Listen, old wives, to our prayers for fairytale endings ever,
ever,
after
grey is washed in morning, graffiti of the light revealed.

 

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March 1, 2018

Writers’ Paradise

by lisa st john

#ebags #eaglecreekWelcome to March 1st. From now on, I am going to post here on the first of every month. Not that often, right? Except that I now have another blog: Widows’ Words. This one is focused on my memoir, The Beds We Live and Die In. It’s about loss and widowhood and moving through it all.

I also launched a website to keep everything together: lisachristinastjohn.com

I hope you check them both out. I am excited. I really am living the writer’s life and I wake up every day full of energy and ready to work/write.

I am forever grateful to the International Women’s Writing Guild for starting me on this path. If you haven’t been to their amazing online webinars and real-life conferences you are missing out. They are “a global powerhouse & digital village for mighty, soulful women writers.” I can’t wait for the Boston Retreat in April. The summer IWWG Conference is where I heard about the San Miguel Writers Conference in February. I got to attend, and it was like a gift from the ancient gods.

Parish Church

San Miguel de Allende is not only a UNESCO World Heritage site; it’s a mecca of culture and beauty. I have been to this amazing city before–once with my late husband and our son, twice to visit friends, and now to experience the writing community. It was beyond amazing. Workshops in tents outside the gorgeous grounds of the Hotel Real de Minas, round table discussions with authors, pitch sessions with agents, excursions, and fiesta! The keynote speakers are world famous: Rita Dove, Sandra Cisneros, Wally Lamb, and Joseph Boyden just to name a few. 

The air was electric with creative energy. I re-focused, rejuvenated, remembered, and released. I worked on the memoir, but also crashed into some poetry with the astounding Judyth Hill. Here is an excerpt of a fragment that will someday grow into a poem, thanks to Judyth’s prompts.

“Blue brushstrokes of longing
are the impasto of my memory,
and my heart is in Orion’s star.
La Llorona comes for me in a blood moon the texture of hunger.”

Hill was so right when she said that “poets are the grievers of culture.” It’s our job as artists of all kinds to bear the heart of our time.

Check out the CDC Poetry Project, for example. Check out Amanda Palmer’s “Strength Through Music.” Dictators fear artists and intellectuals. Why?

“Art creates pathways for subversion, for political understanding and solidarity among coalition builders. Art teaches us that lives other than our own have value.” (Eve L. Ewing)

There are beautiful, loving groups everywhere who believe in art, who promote art, who value voice. Check out this Children’s Art Foundation in San Miguel. Check out the American Library Association. They need us now more than ever. 

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By the way, loved Interjet Airlines. I left San Miguel to fly to Puerto Vallarta to visit a jungle village they don’t want me to talk about (even though it’s all over the travel sites). I guess I’ll just say I may not miss the Chachalaca birds in the early morning. 

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July 31, 2017

Art is My Religion

by lisa st john

“Art is our new religion and museums our cathedrals.” Theodore Zeldin

Art is everywhere.

This is not a new idea. Alain de Botton’s beautiful talk “Art as Therapy” expands on Zeldin’s idea. He says that art’s function is in “giving us hope.” It reminds us that we are “not alone in our suffering.” Sounds theological doesn’t it? Recently, I realized I have a religion after all: art.

I got a last minute invitation to an event by The Secret City (“Sincere and fabulous community celebrations of the everyday creative life. With outfits”) recently, and it was nothing less than … spiritual. Artists getting together and

Chris Wells

sharing what they do with the rest of us, but also engaging us, inviting us to join them.

 

This interactive event included music by the Secret City Band, dance by Energy Dance Company, guided breathing, a shared ice cream treat by Cashewtopia, an amazing musical interaction by Sxip Shirey, a powerful a cappella protest song by Prana, fabulous memoir excerpt reading by Chris Wells, the most wondrous “Ukulele Anthem” by Amanda Palmer, and visual art provided by Martyn Thompson: meditation, music, singing, mingling, recitation…sounds like

 

AFP

church. It felt much better than any church-going I have ever experienced. It was a truly joyful celebration. We weren’t celebrating our union with a separate-from-us god; we were celebrating art and artists and the harmony that our union with them can provide. We need this. We need to connect with art so we know there are others like us. We are not alone.

 

“In times of dread, artists must never choose to remain silent.” –Toni Morrison

 

This brings me to how we connect to the arts. What can we do to promote and enjoy and partake in the magical making of things? One way is Patreon. We do not have to be insanely rich Medicis to support the arts. With crowdsourcing and gofundme and kickstarter, indiegogo, et cetera, we can all make a difference in the world; we can all be patrons. I give a little + you give a little + someone else gives a little = an artist has the money to record an album. That’s about as mathematical as I get, so … .

Let’s be kind.

Let’s share art,

and let’s be fucking joyful.

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July 15, 2017

My Atheist Soul

by lisa st john

“Sophia is becoming more and more alive right now.” –Susan Tiberghien

 

 

So much is possible. I am younger than when I arrived at the International Women’s Writing Guild Conference.

I am not alone. I am not alone in my own energy. I can connect to the whole whenever I am willing to listen.

I am not alone. I am part of the greater soul; keeping that door closed is no longer possible. I weaken the impact of anger by giving it voice. Writing.

But this is not soul work exclusively.

This is art.

In the joyous atmosphere of the IWWG, I opened myself up to the possibility of success (an ever-changing definition) in writing. Being among these powerful women gave me back a sense of power and purpose and connection.

It is difficult to express the true impact of these women’s workshops on my life, but I have to try.

Maureen Murdock’s workshop reminded me that, “Every woman has to learn where her true source of validation is.” (The Heroine’s Journey: Woman’s Quest for Wholeness)

Susan Tiberghien taught me that, “With [our] words [we] become light bearers in the world.” (One Year to a Writing Life)

Marj Hahne connected me to my poet’s voice through art, and Myra Shapiro rekindled a light within me.
Carren Strock showed me that I am not limited to one form.
Dorothy Randall Gray illuminated me—hugged me from the inside out, and Alyce Smith Cooper brought me home to my ancestors. Mary Beth Coudal smiled me alive, and Lynne Barrett brought me down to earth. April Eberhardt opened new windows and got me to see through them.

The laughter echoing through Muhlenberg College resonated the halls. The tears, for we need them too, were shared and new writing was born. I am excited for next year’s conference, for my writing, for art in general, and life majestic. Thank you IWWG. 

You can buy my chapbook of poetry, Ponderings, HERE.

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