In Memory of Rynn Williams

For me, this has been a month of loss. Early last week I had even more bad news. I received an email from my friend, Molly Fisk, informing me that our mutual colleague and friend, Rynn Williams, was found dead in her bathtub by her dog sitter. Although her death has since been determined accidental, an autopsy will be performed. Rynn was 47 and leaves behind three children under the age of 13.

I first met Rynn many years ago in Molly’s online Poetry Boot Camp. It was during her earlier years as a poet and all of us critiqued one another’s poetry online. Many of the poets were mediocre, but Rynn’s words always rose to the top. Each day, I looked forward to her latest installment. The boot camp would last five days and each of us were required to turn in our poems by 12 midnight each day. More often than not, Rynn’s poems arrived in the early morning hours, perhaps her most creative time, or the time when she finally got her little ones to bed. Her poems were rarely in what seemed to be a rough draft. They were sharp and poignant and always touched a nerve in me. I am happy that I had the chance to work with her and more than once what a fine poet I thought she was. One reviewer of her books said that Rynn’s poems are “like X-rays that scrutinize each moment.’

It was no surprise to me when years later I learned that Rynn won the Prairie Schooner Prize for Poetry for her first collection, Adonis George. I recall months later attending her reading in Grass Valley, CA with Molly Fisk. A mentor once told me that if a poet’s words stay with you long after their reading, then that’s the power of a good poet. Rynn had that power – so much of her work continues to resonate with me. I had been in touch with Rynn over the years – her emails, like her poetry, were terse, yet caring. Some time later, I was honored to join Rynn for a coffee in New York. For obvious reasons, that rendez-vous is now more poignant than ever now. The events of these past few weeks are a reminder to enjoy every day and moment spent with loved ones.

Here is one poem from Adonis George:

West Chelsea

I am going to leave the city tonight,

the handball courts and the Gemini Diner,

I am going to forget about east 33^rd street,

the penthouse, the Rawhide, the banks of elevators,

I want to forget the route of the C train,

the smell of the tracks when you jump down

to cross them, I want to fall asleep

and not dream of multitudes, I want to forget

that on West Fourth and Hudson my friend

held his forehead together with his hands,

I am going to abandon my FDNY cap

on top of a hydrant in alphabet city,

my Lucite stilettos on a shrine in the Bronx,

I want nothing but horizontal lines

so I don’t have to get on my knees in the intersection,

I am going to pick up my body and move it

to a town where the streets are perfectly logical,

I am going to drive east on the LIE

until the only rumble is in the pit of my stomach,

I am going to shred all my take-out menus,

I am going to eat dinner at six o’clock,

I am going to be a loser and love it –

get in my car and drive east to the ocean,

until I can’t stand the silence

and have to come home.

 

 

Journaling About Spirituality

For the past few weeks I have attended a Sunday lecture at the Vedanta Temple. The temple is situated in a peaceful mountain setting and the atmosphere permeates with naturally-growing sage and magnificent views of the Pacific Ocean. Something about being on the property or even sitting on the temple stairs, nourishes and restores the soul. The energy or karma of the environment has a massaging quality, whether it is the, views, singing birds, the book store with hard-to-find books, the talks or a combination of all the above, something draws me back each week.

I am not a religious person, but I am spiritual. The Vedanta philosophy prophesizes a oneness of spirit. The ideas is that God or Brahman exists in every living being. Religion is considered a search for self-knowledge (which I am a big advocate of), or a search for the divine within ourselves. Vedanta philosophy believes that there are no accidents, only destinies as a result of cause and effect. (I really believe this also). It also stresses the idea of self-effect.

I find the Sunday lecture subjects to be both fascinating and captivating. Last week the Swami spoke about visualization and how our five senses make us feel one with the world. Having said that, we can see that if a memory haunts you, then the experience and visual memory can actually bring back the memory. In order to visualize something it’s good to start with something simple and then become familiar with the object through visualization. Start with a vague image of a person or thing and then as you become more familiar with it, you will notice even more details. Keep in mind that the emotional connection with the person or object gives us the will to visualize. In summary, we all affect our own future by using our imagination.

This past week the discussion was about the first Swami who brought the Vedanta teachings to the west. As a writer, the most interesting part of the lecture was his discussion about how reading biographies of great people is a form of spiritual practice. It was said that we if we can identify with these people, then we can change and improve our own lives. In view of this, I began thinking about my childhood and our weekly trips to the library where I would always head directly to the biography section. I loved reading about real stories about real people. I suppose that was my own personal spiritual practice which continues this many years later.

What do you think?

Happy 106th Birthday Grandma !

Last week my grandmother, Regina would have celebrated her 106^th birthday! After studying her life while writing my recent memoir, Regina’s Closet: Finding My Grandmother’s Secret Journal, I realized that even though there were many aspects of our personalities which were similar—our lives and times cannot to be compared.

My grandmother lived through two world wars, and although there were already two wars in my own lifetime—The Vietnam War and The Gulf War—their physical proximity only were only as close to me as my television screen. What must life have been like in 1903 without radio and television? Imagine only knowing of the beginning war from the soldiers marching through the streets of your hometown or some distant newspaper finally making it to your doorstep? Surely, life was tougher when technology was not an integral part of society, but in many ways it was much less complicated—priorities were family and survival and the wondrance if the daily bread would appear on the kitchen table, or even be delivered to the corner grocer because of war-torn districts. Now we worry about whether the newspapers will survive the technological advancement and stressful economical times or if our environment will survive our waste.

In the end, we must always have our lives in the proper perspective.

Journaling About Authors and Food

“Sometimes people say I am unusual because I cook and write. I smile and nod and think aren’t these things that everyone should do? I cook and write for one reason; I like to make stuff.” These are the words of writer Greg Atkinson in the forward of an anthology called Literary Feast: The Famous Authors Cookbook. I truly believe in Greg’s words and feel honored to be included in this collection put together by The King County Library Foundation. However it wasn’t easy to decide which recipe to include in this collection. After being married for 32 years and raising three kids, I have my share of favorites. I started by pulling out my self-compiled handwritten cookbook and listing in my journal the family’s all-time favorites. The recipe I chose to submit has been carried with me from my childhood—Wiener Schnitzel. I was asked to write a few words before introducing the recipe and here’s what I wrote:

“I have an Austrian mother and had a Polish grandmother, so this crispy Schnitzel recipe, with home-fired potatoes, was a staple in our home. It was the dish we had once a week and was always served when visitors were invited for dinner. You can say that I was brought up on this meal. Also it was often accompanied by a sliced cucumber salad marinated in vinegar and water. Although I didn’t mention this recipe in my recently published memoir, Regina’s Closet: Finding My Grandmother’s Secret Journal, it was a huge part of my childhood. My children, now all grown, have also learned to love this favorite dish of their ancestors.”

This wonderful collection also includes recipes from 90 authors, including David Baldacci, Elizabeth Berg, J.A. Jance, Jonathan Kellerman, Alexander McCall Smith and John Saul. By the way, it makes a wonderful gift for all the writer friends in your life.

You may order a copy for $22.95 from: http://www.thriftbooks.com. Happy cooking! Until you get your own personal copy, here is my recipe:

Wiener Schnitzel

4 thin slices of veal scaloppini

bowl of flour bowl of bread crumbs

2 eggs oil salt and pepper

• Assemble three deep bowls. In one put the flour, in the second beat the two eggs and in the third pour the bread crumbs. Start with moderate amounts of flour and bread crumbs, you can always add more as needed. • Flatten the veal with a meat mallet. Season on both sides with salt and pepper. • Dip both sides of the veal in the flour. Shake off excess. • Dip the flour-coated veal into the egg, making sure veal is completely covered. Lift up and allow excess to drip off. • Lay the veal in the breadcrumbs and make sure it gets coated on both sides. • To help the breading adhere to the meat during cooking, you can place the cutlets on wax paper in the refrigerator for one hour. • Use a large frying pan and heat oil (can use half oil and half butter) until it gets hot enough that the cutlet sizzles when you put it in. It usually only needs about 2-3 minutes per side. Drain on paper towels. Serve immediately. This is also delicious served cold for the next day’s lunch.

Journaling During the Santa Barbara Fires

It has been said that writers tend to write more during times of difficulty. Well, I bring you this blog entry from my home town Santa Barbara, which has just been through four major fires in less than two years—Zaca Fire, Gap Fire, Tea Fire and now the recent Jesusita fire. My husband, dog and I have had to evacuate for the last two fires, but I must tell you that The Jesusita fire was the most frightening because of the strong sundowner winds, every firefighters nightmare. Luckily, we happened to be out-of-town for most of the fire, but friends here emailed and called to say that it might have been some of the scariest days of their lives—Apocalyptic in nature—a multitude of helicopters caressing the air space, high winds and power failures sprawling from one end of the city to the next.

My email updates to friends around the country questioned whether this was the price we had to pay for living in a paradise like Santa Barbara, which some call the French Riviera.  Our beautiful surrounding mountains are now covered with ash. I have frequently hiked the Jesuisita Trail (the fire’s namesake) to a scenic peak called Inspiration Point which offers  the most magnificent panoramic view of the city. It’s the place I love to take photographers and out-of-towners to point out the magnificent town framed by majestic mountains meeting the expanse of the Pacific Ocean. These trails are often visited by runners, bikers and hikers. In fact, there is speculation now that the grass was so high in certain areas that you could not even see your feet as you ran and that one of the visitors might have used a power tool to clear the brush and this might have precipitated the fire—an act that might have been well-meaning, but it was not well-thought out and definitely, ‘back-fired.’ (excuse the pun).

Aside from Santa Barbara’s natural beauty, the inhabitants of our town appreciate the quality of life which cannot be had any other place in the country. Many of the people now living in Santa Barbara visited years ago, fell in love and relocated. Others were lucky enough to have been born here. We are a fine eclectic collection of writers, artists, students, professors, engineers, entrepreneurs and developers. We’re a friendly bunch living in a crisp, clean, sunshine-filled paradise where rain is either thought of as either as a treat or hindrance, but, these past few days, most of us agree that we will put up with our umbrellas to save our town’s beauty!

Striding For Inspiration

I recently read Joan Anderson’s biography, A Walk on the Beach, a gem of a book and also a wonderful gift item for that middle-aged woman who has everything, but seeks deeper meaning in her life through growth and exploration. The book’s sentiments are akin to those offered by Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie.

Anderson decides to spend a year alone in Cape Cod where she befriends Joan Erikson, the late widow of the psychologist, Erik Erikson. Joan Erikson bestows her years of wisdom on Anderson and the book unravels alongside their extraordinary developing friendship. Anderson quickly learns the power in having a mentor. After living all those years with her therapist husband, it would seem logical that she’d have a good grip on how to cope with life’s ups and downs. While reading this book, I made sure my notebook was alongside. Each page had potent insights to spark my own thoughts and serve as kernels for future essays and stories. The last section of the book compiled these nuggets of inspiration into a reusable list.

I love reading books which offer insights to inspire my own writing. I also enjoy books which open my eyes to new activities, such as walking which cleans the cobwebs out of my mind and also unlocks writer’s block. By the time I reached the end of the book, I decided to make walking a part of my daily routine. Since moving to Santa Barbara nearly four years ago, I’ve noticed that many people favor walking as a hobby. For me, it’s a time to meet new people, but it’s also a time to nurture reflection and creativity. Santa Barbara offers a unique blend of calm and an unexplainable creative force. I often wondered if this is a result of its unique location, where the ocean meets the mountains.

Patricia Fry wrote an article called “Meditation Walking for Writers,” which I read with great interest. She suggested a walking meditation technique to help if you’re stuck in your writing. She says that there is no altered state of consciousness needed to embark on this type of meditation, and that it’s just a matter of quieting your mind and finding the stillness from within. She does admit that you have to want to do it and then you will see results.

The technique is simple. The first step is to establish a schedule, anywhere between forty-five and sixty minutes each day. Dressing comfortably and finding a quiet place to walk, is critical. Santa Barbara, thankfully, has a glutton of perfect walking locations. Fry suggests that while walking you focus solely only your senses—hear the sound of your shoes hitting the pavement, a sprinkler turning on, or the birds chirping. Then she suggests feeling the air against your skin and how the muscles in your legs tighten with each step. Pay attention to the aromas, whether it’s the blooming flowers, budding trees or grass being cut. In other words, put yourself in the moment.

Beth Baruch Joselow in her book, “Writing Without the Muse,” also suggests in her chapter “Go Outside,” to explore the outdoors and discover something unfamiliar—something growing in your garden, something living under a rock, something discarded in the alley. She suggests bringing that something back to your desk to examine all its facets. She recommends writing a description of it using all your senses. She takes the exercise one step further and suggests describing the item using someone else’s voice, someone you know.

Once you try these mind-clearing techniques, you can start allowing creative ideas to filter in. Fry claims that meditation walks provide an ideal arena for problem-solving. When she feels overwhelmed, she walks change her approach to life, whether it results in slowing down or figuring out what to do next. She suggests replacing negative thoughts with positive ones. If you think positively, then chances are it will soon become a reality. Meditation walking is a way to relax and increase your awareness while getting some of that fresh air and exercise we all need and who knows, the side effect might be a fabulous poem or story!

Journaling Women’s History Month

In celebration of the last day of Women’s History Month which has been celebrated since 1987. I would like to mention some of my favorite books by women which are worth reading:

Isabel Allende – My Invented Country

Maya Angelou – I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

Kate Chopin – The Awakening

Annie Dillard – An American Childhood

Lucy Grealy – Autobiography of a Face

Natalie Goldberg – Writing Down the Bones

Vivian Gornick – Fierce Attachments

Kathryn Harrison – The Kiss

Carloyn Heilbrun – The Last Gift of Time

Eva Hoffman – Lost in Translation

Kay Redfield Jamison – An Unquiet Mind

Mary Karr – The Liar’s Club, Cherry

Jennifer Lauck  – Blackbird

Reeve Lindbergh – Gift From the Sea, No More Words

Anais Nin –  The Journals of Anais Nin

Tillie Olsen – Silences

Francine Prose – Reading Like a Writer

Tristine Rainer –  The New Diary

Virginia Woolf – Moments of Being, A Room of One’s Own

Jeannette Walls – The Glass Castle

Winterson, Jeanette – Art Objects

Most of these are nonfiction writers because I mainly read nonfiction and surely there are many many more in this category, but this is a  good start!

Happy Reading!

In Memory of Sylvia Plath and her son, Nicholas Hughes

I was particularly moved by the news that Sylvia Plath’s son, Nicholas, took his life by hanging himself this past weekend at age forty-seven—forty-six years after his mother, Sylvia, took her life by sticking her head in the oven. There’s no doubt the most common prerequisite to suicide is depression. Sylvia and Nicholas both displayed this profile. Sylvia became depressed when her then husband, Ted Hughes, had an affair. Nicholas had just left his position as professor of fisheries and ocean science in Alaska due to depression and had begun a pottery career from home. Perhaps those closest to the victims were too close to identify the gravity of the situation and if they did, they did not know how to help or were too late.

My sympathy goes out to the Plath-Hughes family and all victims of suicide. Below is a poem Sylvia Plath wrote to Nick sometime during his first year of life. It brings tears to my eyes:

Nick and the Candlestick

I am a miner. The light burns blue.

Waxy stalactites

Drip and thicken, tears

The earthen womb

Exudes from its dead boredom.

Black bat airs

Wrap me, raggy shawls,

Cold homicides.

They weld to me like plums.

Old cave of calcium

Icicles, old echoer.

Even the newts are white,

Those holy Joes.

And the fish, the fish—-

Christ! They are panes of ice,

A vice of knives,

A piranha

Religion, drinking

Its first communion out of my live toes.

The candle

Gulps and recovers its small altitude,

Its yellows hearten.

O love, how did you get here?

O embryo

Remembering, even in sleep,

Your crossed position.

The blood blooms clean

In you, ruby.

The pain

You wake to is not yours.

Love, love,

I have hung our cave with roses.

With soft rugs—-

The last of Victoriana.

Let the stars

Plummet to their dark address,

Let the mercuric

Atoms that cripple drip

Into the terrible well,

You are the one

Solid the spaces lean on, envious.

You are the baby in the barn.

I was planning to write a column in honor of Women’s History Month when I learned about the suicide of Sylvia Plath’s son. This tragedy should not hinder celebrating the works of wonderful writers, but it does make one stop in one’s tracks and think about the genetic component of suicide.

Journaling and Persistence

Last weekend was Arts Day at UCLA and I was honored to be asked to be on a panel called, “Getting Your Work Out There,” for the Writers’ Program. This subject is an important one these days, particularly since the publishing industry is in such a slump. My message was to write your passion and your best writing will emerge. Writing for the market does not always provide the best results. For the neophyte writers in the audience, I reminded them of the thick skin necessary to be a writer and how rejections should not be taken to heart—it’s just a part of the territory of being a writer. If you don’t send your work out, you will never get published. So what should you do with all these rejections? I usually toss out any form letters, and there have probably been enough to decorate the walls of my study twice over. Over the years I’ve made a habit of keeping letters from editors who’ve taken the time to actually write personal letters. For me it’s a possible sign hat I should resubmit to that publication again. Sometimes a piece of work does not fit into the current editorial plan, but it might in the not so distant future. As writers, we need to believe in ourselves and our work, if we don’t who else will? Persistence pays off, trust me.

Journaling For Stress Release

Journaling for Stress Release In view of all the economical changes plaguing this country and the world, many people are feeling very stressed and overwhelmed. Even though some scientific studies have indicated noted stress is good for us, in order to stay healthy it is important to effectively manage stress. Stress can be bad for you and can turn against you if your response to it results in rage and/or depression. One healthy way to cope with stress is to turn a negative into a positive and use the time to express yourself in a journal. Writing can be used as a cure to what is ailing you. Studies have shown that free-writing or writing non-stop for 15 to 20 minutes a day can improve your outlook on life, decrease emotional tension and increase your immune response. In my classes I usually have my students write for at least ten minutes without stopping. In this way the subconscious takes over. Just allow your pen to take you wherever your mind leads you. Put aside the editor and spell-checker. Write yourself out of the frenzy!