Sometimes the Day is the Poem <3
Whatsoever you do….
Whatsoever you do….
15 June 2019
“All cruelty springs from weakness.” ―
Make art about how kindness, compassion tenderness, are the real strengths.
24 June 2019
Altruism is the principle and moral practice of concern for happiness of other human beings and/or animals, resulting in a quality of life both material and spiritual.
The word “altruism” was coined by the French philosopher Auguste Comte in French, as altruisme, for an antonym of egoism. He derived it from the Italian altrui, which in turn was derived from Latin alteri, meaning “other people” or “somebody else.”
Make art about altruism, about true concern for others without thought of return.
10 May 2019
Make art about softness, about the strength to be found in softness, about softness the world needs.
1 May 2019
Make art about generosity, about generosity received, about the rewards of generosity.
14 December 2017
Our world needs kindness right now more than it ever has.
Make art about a difference made by one small act of kindness.
VERY SPECIAL CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS!
I’ve worked on numerous literary journals, but I haven’t had the freedom to create the one that “I” imagined–until now!
And, today is a day to celebrate two men I love, John’s birthday, and the anniversary of my beautiful brother Bill walkin on to the next life. I choose to celebrate them by building something beautiful
Welcome to K’in!
A New Literary Journal Celebrating the Range and Diversity of Voices Under Our One Sun
We’re begin reading submissions November 13, 2017 Today!
Our first issue will be released May 1, 2018.
Checkout the K’in website HERE
And please check out our Submit Page for details!
I’m thrilled and honored to be working with some brilliant Longwood alums and colleagues to make this happen!
We want to hear from you!
26 July 2017
The world is in so much pain right now, so much anger, so much fear. If I am not mindful, that collective despair will weigh down on my back, settle ’round my shoulders like a yoke, until it chokes me, and I am become part of the problem, rather than doing what I think I should–choosing light, choosing peace, choosing Love–doing all that I can to be a force for compassion and Love in this world. So I have to make sure that I care for myself, body and spirit. I personally seek solace in the natural world, in my garden.
It reminds me, daily, that we are made not from our successes, but from the narrative of learning embodied in failure, every lush, red tomato now the product of years on my knees, learning, lessons gifted by seeds that did not germinate, rain that did not fall, soil that wasn’t ready, woodlings that wandered in and ate the fruit, reminders of my rent being due, for sharing this space.
Reward, and humility, in equal share, mistakes and losses, the cost of carelessness, the reminder that I own no space alone in my time on this planet, reside always in the garden. But even more, for me, in that small space, dwells possibility. Even in the darkest winter months, I imagine what will come, with spring. I find solace in the garden’s persistent gift, the imagining of an unimaginable future.
Make art about where you find solace.
14 April 2017
Make art about service, about how the self is found in service to others.
23 November 2016
Dreamt I was working with a couple of other people in some kind of disaster distribution center, coordinating and handing out goods to people in need, blankets, socks, water bottles, cloth diapers for babies. People moved through the barn-like building, their steps stuttering softly against the dirt floor. The line seemed as if it would never end. It didn’t feel like I was doing enough. But then, a young woman with two small children, a baby on her hip, and a four or five year old girl holding her hand, stopped in front of me for a blanket. The young mother’s face was drawn and exhausted, and the kids too seemed scared and weighted with whatever disaster it was we were all dealing with out there in the world.
The little girl said, “Blue.”
I smiled, not sure for a second what she meant, but then I looked down. The stacked blankets were mostly green and gray, but tucked into the pile halfway down or so, one blue blanket.
Her mama shushed her, and smiled sadly at me. but the little girl looked up at me, smiling a little around the fingers she had in her mouth, and said again, “Blue?”
Her mama hushed her again, saying, “Missy, we can’t–“
“Sure we can,” I said. I pulled the one blue blanket out of the others and offered it across the table to the little girl. She let go of her mama, and reached out with both her little girl hands to take the blue blanket, wrapping her arms around it like a hug and smiling.
We all smiled.
Make art about small acts of taking care of each other.