Tuesday, June 2, 2015

This Old Cabin, Part 5

I haven't been writing much as I work on my little house.  It set me to musing "why not?", and I felt a shiver of naughty delight.  In graduate school we were told to never ask "why" because it wasn't a useful scientific word with which to frame a hypothesis.

However, I can tell you my soul loves that simple question.

Where does the energy and sustained imagination come to write poetry and science fiction?  I will tell you a secret--I am always telling stories to myself when I weave or work on the glass paintings I've shown here.  Not in words, but in blues and greens, with the occasional glance out at this bowl of light that is Long Lake.

When I bend and plant seeds in my new raised bed gardens, or amble up a long driveway with my doggie companion, I am soaking in the light, the scents, the puppy antics that will some day turn into words.  I think that is why I didn't write much when I was younger--I was building an inner library of sensation to pull from, mellowed and given meaning by the sandpaper scrubbing of time.

Walks and art are vital parts of writing for me, the time when I make physical the link between my isolated mind and the outer world.  I enjoy the struggle to verbalize what I see or hear or feel--it must be the same happy frustration of a seed pushing against the earth or a puppy straining at the end of its leash.  I have to wiggle through this fabric of learned conceptions, self-criticism, and pleasing behaviors to find that wider and freer reality.  I choose to do that, eventually, with words.  And I hope sometimes, I can bring others along with me, moving this solitary creature I am into community and communion.

The glass painting is done with simple acrylic craft paint. I have also found Sharpie markers work great (less mess with kids), although their colors are a bit more harsh and intense.  Be willing to layer several coats to deepen the color if you don't like seeing the brush strokes.

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