Not a place or a state
not neat
nor tidy.
Sometimes gritty,
a bit contagious,
infectious even.
Community perseveres outside the lines ~
non-conformists
freedom fighters
spelunkers
reformed couch enthusiasts.
Community is a rage of members,
a trickster of inquiry,
an un-settlement of passion.
It is growth with purpose.
“Yang, the masculine principle: light, active, outward and upward moving, hot, extrospective (http://yogafortoday.ca).”
It’s not surprising that my first experiences with yoga were “yang”. Most of the classes that I took at the recreation center were yoga-aerobic. Remember the days of high impact aerobics? Step aerobics? Weight aerobics? Yoga was just another expected evolution in the aerobics trend of that small town in Northwestern Ontario. This was, of course, in the nineties when women, a la Jane Fonda, were supposed to attend aerobics class in high cut leotards and shiny tights. We were to be the “rock stars” of physical fitness. Of course, in reality, most of us shuffled into that first class in overlarge t-shirts and baggy sweats while the more self-confident participants actually wore shorts and tank tops.
Yoga, at that time and in that place, was introduced as a great way to warm up or cool down. The hook to get us there was the assurance, “Don’t worry, we don’t meditate or do that touchy-feely stuff.” Except for the one woman or lone man at the back of the room who actually wanted to do that stuff, we were all fine with attaining a modicum of grace while stretching into downward facing dog, cobra, and warrior.
For me, the challenge was to get the pose exactly right: stance, breath, and the transitional footwork from one pose to the next. When I stayed focused in yoga, I was lean and strong. I was a warrior.
I was “yang”.
When I was taking my ESL Part One course this fall, one of the questions we were asked to consider was, “Are students who may be reluctant to talk in class in front of others more comfortable engaging in electronic “conversations”?”
As the Technical Resource Teacher in our school, my answer is a resounding, “Yes”. Computers do assist with learning on many levels, from delivering a variety of content, to practicing skills, to enabling communication, to teaching responsibility. Computers do not teach, nor do they solve all problems, but they can help us to look at curriculum in a different way; they also encourage us to create a layered way of thinking.
Computers, on a very basic and practical level, force us to think sequentially. Just think about all of the steps you go through to find that file you need to upload to your blog. For ELL’s and every other learner, using a computer requires that you can follow written, oral or visual instructions. Often, the path to creating a document, editing a photo, or finding something online is not always as straightforward as you would assume if you knew nothing about computers. Simply creating a document in Word is a good way to test students’ comprehension. Either they do it, or they ask for help.
While on vacation this Christmas, I’ve had ample opportunity to consider how computers can also assist with the creative process. The question came up when my sister asked me what on earth I was doing on my laptop, iPad and iPod for so many hours in a day. (Honestly, I didn’t realize that I was glued to my devices for that long. I have gone skiing, attended 2 bonfires, a book making workshop, made 5 wreaths and several other gifts, watched a couple of movies, indulged in many interesting conversations with real people, and even gave my dog a haircut.) However, in comparison to a sibling who spends relatively little time on computers, I guess the question is valid.
As a writer, I can honestly say that I would not want to go back to the pen and paper method of recording my thoughts. Yes, I do jot notes and sketch diagrams of ideas but when it comes to the nitty gritty of painting an image or developing an idea it’s the computer and nothing else for me. I love the swiftness of recording my thoughts, the satisfying click of the keys and (a little anal here) the cleanliness of the white screen. Unless I choose to use mark-up in Word’s review pane, I experience the absolute joy of an untouched document. Visual perfection.
Another added benefit to working on a computer is, of course, the value of saving multiple drafts. Of course, with that privilege comes great responsibility. Experienced drafters will shake their heads when I admit that I committed the ultimate sin when I first started work on my novel last year. Yes, I created more than one draft but if took a while for me to remember to number and date my work. It didn’t seem like such a big deal until I took a 6 month break from the work, and then tried to pick up where I left off yesterday. Needless to say, I spent a fair bit of time sorting my files into folders. I know. Computer Survival School 101. What can I say except that I was so caught up in the creative process that my usual neat-freak went on vacation.
Lately, I’ve been sampling and following a lot of blogs. Also, to my pleasant surprise, I have found that people have been following me. In spite of my sporadic posting it would appear that I have something to say that other people want to hear. Although I do enjoy a great dystopic novel, I must admit that I am a fan of a computer driven society. Where else would I be able to meet, carry out a conversation, share ideas, and learn from others with the click of a button?
Essentially a logical/sequential platform, computers teach layered strategies of thinking, creating, communicating which can add to our understanding of being. I would even go so far as to say that my imagination has grown because of the interactive nature of computers and the internet.
The Door
Only in the dark, could a glimmer be so bright. Or so Davis thought, when the door swelled beneath his fingers then burst through the grass like a budding mushroom. It drew him to his feet. Beneath his aching hands, the cool metal pulsed with the promise of release.
(Continue reading at Indies Unlimited, Flash Fiction Entries and vote here for your favourite.)
On Christmas Day, I read a blog by Martin Crosbie, whom I met at the Rural Writers’ Retreat in Smithers this fall. He reminded me through his article on Charles Dickens’ self publishing journey for A Christmas Carol that even those “greats” began somewhere. That those classic authors we teach in school succeeded because of hard work, confidence, and a belief in their creations. Most of all, I guess, our writing and artistic heroes make it because they make a point of creating and publishing. Thanks to my Christmas lesson (even though I thought I was on holidays), I joined the writing site Martin recommended called Indies Unlimited, AND, my first New Year’s Resolution to publish comes in the form of entering a flash fiction contest. Learning to tell a story in 250 words or less is quite an experience! Although it was a bit painful to slash 100 words from my story I decided that it was worth the experience of (1) actually sitting down and writing and (2) putting myself out there in a competitive context.
Please, check out Indies if you haven’t already. Although I am very partial to my own story I promise you that the other submissions are creative and thought provoking, You might even be inspired to try the next writing challenge.
Into the matte jumble
of thumb-pressed cotton
the shadow fell
through
fell
too slowly for the eye to notice
still
there was a sense
a notion of change
in the pulpy towers of cumulous
a cumulative knowing
that some Other being
was there.
It was
Not the green-yellow palette
Of pre-apocalyptic sky
although more reasoned minds
would wonder at this blindness
this unwillingness to see
what was so obvious –
nor was it the pinprick
of explosive force
that shattered preconception.
It was the subtle immersion
into the light-well
the realization of drowning
that brought her to life.
In silence we travel;
through the lava beds we wind
wrapped in thought and acid
sweet melody.
Notes play upon my solar plexus,
ripple upward from groin to throat, subtle
waves of energy
keyed to my body like a lover’s hand.
It is my birthday, but we don’t speak of it
yet.
My attention drifts through fog,
seeks threads of blue between stone.
Momentarily I consider breaking
the solitude though it’s not heavy.
It’s the passenger’s obligation to fill the air, isn’t it,
With words?
Amidst the lava a shadow stirs,
shifts into Other shape –
Owl – Woman – Grandmother.
I should not gaze into those dark eyes, or
so I’m told. I cannot fear her still serenity,
or the gathering of life shadows beneath her wings.
Pinioned by love, forgiven for my life’s transgressions
of deeds undone, I
can only hope she will last a lifetime
even as she returns to stone
and mist.
Nor is quiet sad
It is the passage of air deep
into the belly
the expansion of chest and the contraction of woe
tranquillity is the pure thread
connecting the body to the mind
Technique: Point of View and Stream of Consciousness
Intention: To develop the character, Kineu, through the techniques of introspection, dialogue, action and interaction with other characters.
Genre: Science Fiction
His breath pooled in his chest, then puffed passed his lips. A meditation stone cooled the palm of his hand. In and out – forget about crystillium thrusters, spatial anomalies, crew squabbles, duty assignments, and Nexus attacks.
Kineu sighed. When he was a boy, his grandfather had told him that meditation was the path to the peace of his ancestors. Too bad his butt hadn’t paid attention to the lesson. He shifted to relieve the cramp and tried to focus. How do you think about nothing and still stay alert? Why couldn’t it be like his dream last night? Kineu tried to dismiss his errant thoughts but it was too late. The images flow, as clear now as they had been upon awaking that morning.
A gleaming white wolf nudges his hand in greeting. Kineu honors its welcome with one of his own, stepping lightly through desert air to sit by a pool of water. Ripples of memory disturb its surface only briefly. He brushes the thoughts away … brushes the pool
turns his palms skyward
rests them
open
on crossed knees cupping gently the meditation stone
of his father’s father
given to him in ceremony
a seeker
of light
he opens his heart
to greet his soul …
Into his vision stalks a jaguar. Black muscles ripple past the moon silver wolf. Soft pads whisper near the sinew of the seeker’s shoulder. The jaguar’s tongue laps at the clear water, while yellow eyes
narrow and suspicious
furtively study -in quick fearful glances –
the leather clad Anishnabeg.
Deliberately he remains silent.
Muscles struggle to remain still.
His breath, so regular at first, catches in his throat. The big cat is unexpected…
The cat growls, soft and menacing, in Kineu’s ear. Its breath, hot and sweet, brushes his cheek. Already he can feel his hair stirring in response. He readies himself for the attack, and reaches for a gun he knows isn’t there.
“Brrrrt.”
Kineu’s cellcom chirped. Automatically his hand reached for the device clipped to his belt.
“Sorry for interrupting, Commander.” Mitchell Ogawa’s voice was a cheerful interruption in the silent room. The young officer had been on duty for several hours already, but nothing could put a dent in his enthusiasm.
“Is there a problem, Ensign?” Kineu’s voice rasped uncomfortably in his ears. Their ship, Destiny, hadn’t encountered Nexus since leaving Commonwealth space three years ago but circumstances could change in a hurry. To date, their explorations had resulted in few friendships and more than a few squirmishes. Folks in this quadrant of space weren’t particularly friendly with strangers
Ogawa understood the first officer’s concern. Even though Destiny had found no sign of the Nexus homeworld, there was always the hope (and the fear) that today would be the day. “No sign of Nexus sir, but sensors have detected a new star system. Captain Sinkiewicz wants you on the bridge.” Mitchell’s voice reassured the first officer.
“I’m on my way.” The words were barely out of Kineu’s mouth before the whoosh of the door signaled his exit. He padded quietly down the grey corridor, his body a compact study in muscle. Crewmen stepped from his path, aware of the strength held beneath passive facial muscles. Black heels clipped the carpeted corridor. Spine straight and eyes direct, only his hair proclaimed he wasn’t totally military. It hung straight down his back, held in place by a simple leather knot.
Even after three years, Danu La Fey thought, Kineu still had the air of a Midewewin… of a freedom fighter. If anyone had asked her four years ago about serving aboard a Commonwealth ship she would have laughed. Now? Well, even Midewewin principles had to give way to practicality. The Nexus was too great an enemy for the Midewewin to fight alone, and the Commonwealth had finally decided that diplomacy wouldn’t end the war. Kineu had agreed to merge the best of his crew from Raven with the best that the Commonwealth had to offer. The result was Destiny and their mission to hunt down the Nexus. “Hey, have you tried that new virtual reality program I wrote for you?” Her crisp voice cut through Kineu’s preoccupation, while her strides matched his purposeful gait.
Kineu glanced down. Danu, as always, looked frailer than she was. A human might have mistaken her for a blue pixie, but her species was far more ferocious. “Not yet, but I’m hoping that your program will help me with my meditation exercises.” None of his disappointment peeked through the mask he wore for the crew. It was no secret that he was searching for a way to harness the telepathic powers of his people but not even Danu knew how much it meant to him.
He forced a smile and changed the subject. “So, how are you feeling? Is Liam looking after you?” The first officer made an effort to keep his voice even. Even though Liam Tennyson had proven himself a loyal member of Destiny’s crew, Kineu couldn’t forget that years’ earlier the younger man had almost destroyed the Midewewin council. Maybe Danu’s husband wasn’t the fool he had been, but Kineu still wondered.
“Liam is driving me crazy,” Danu sighed. “Every day he reviews the food groups’ chart and quizzes me on my eating habits. If he isn’t trying to feed me, then he’s questioning my hours in Engineering. If he had his way, I would be lying down in our quarters right now!” Danu’s voice quivered with disgust. Pregnancy had softened her Gael physique but hadn’t touched her temper.
Kineu halted abruptly. Catching her shoulder, he steadied her against a stumble. “Can you blame him? Not only is the Nexus killing and enslaving most of free space, but they’ve also figured out a way to arrest fetal development. You and Liam are an anomaly. Your baby is actually going to make it to term.” He softened his voice. “Sure he’s being over zealous but with good reason. Just be patient.”
Lips quirking over her testiness, Danu nodded and resumed walking. “You’re right. I’ve got to remember the big picture. He’s just so annoying at times that I forget.”
Kineu paused at the lift, and raised an eyebrow. “Bridge?”
“No,” she chuckled at the irony, “I’m meeting Liam for breakfast.”
Kineu stepped onto the waiting platform. The lift silently propelled him towards his destination. For a moment, as the floor moved beneath his feet, Kineu swayed. Vertigo, swift and hushed as death, swirled past his eyes. His black and grey clad shoulder protested his sudden stumble. Fingers splayed against cool metal –
gold eyes wink at him out of the mists
menacing and alien,
he stuggles to stand
to assess the threat, but low growls rumble in his ears
push him further from his objective …
his uniform and the colours of blood and fur
mix,
and gold watches him
– feral –
fear tastes bitter in his mouth and bile
presses against his teeth …
Technique: Free Verse Poetry
Time out of time
we spin the wheel of fortune
hoping for a happier fate
than the girls who went before
Technique: Free Verse Poetry
Focus: Experimenting with capitals and punctuation to create the visual effect of continuity
a continuous line of thought
surfaces
behind my eyes
and flows easily from my pen
the land speaks
with an intelligence
of many tongues –
it speaks to us
and sometimes
when we are lucky
we listen
...bones... 