Words Matter

QuickWrites are just that.  Quick.  They don't allow for revision.  But that doesn't mean what you write during that time shouldn't be revised.  QuickWrites just give you the time to get the words down quickly so you can take your time with them later.  Here's the second poem I wrote during the QuickWrite on Tuesday.  First, the 90 second version based on the last line of Robert Wrigley's poem "Do You Love Me?":

"Say it. . . . Say it to me."
I wonder what he means by that.
Say what?  Say what to whom?
Why does it matter
that we say the words too?
"Actions speak louder than words."
Yet we want the words.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me."
Ah.  But they do.
they have, and they will again.
"Say them over again to me
Wonderful words of life."
"I am the Way, the Truth, the Life."
"The Word of God."
"The Word made Flesh."
"the Word . . . dwells among us."

Say it.
Say it to me.
Words
Matter.

On the last day of the main part of this retreat, Linda asked us to choose something we had written during the week to share with the whole group (about 50 of us).  Now, that was daunting, I must say.  But I decided to read part of this poem.  I actually marked the lines I wanted to read, but changed my mind twice about which ones to include (she said to choose something short, or selections from something longer).  While this isn't a short poem, I felt there were too many references to things people might not get.  Here's the result:

Why does it matter
that we say the words?
Actions speak louder than words.
Yet, we want the words.
Sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me.
Ah, but they do.
They have and they will again.

The Word was made Flesh and dwelt among us.

Words
matter.

In Spite of Everything

In spite of everything, God
is still in charge.
I mean--He's there.
He sees all, knows all.
He's engaged in a great civil war
testing whether mercy
trumps justice.

In spite of everything, I
don't blame Him.
Not for wars, pestilence,
hate, loss, pain.
Nor all the things that bring down
happiness.
And life.

In spite of everything, He
loves me.
This . . . I know.
I've seen it.
Heard it.
Felt it
deep in the marrow
of my bones.

In spite of everything, Love
will triumph over evil, mercy
will triumph over justice.
The lame will walk,
The blind will see.
And we.
Shall.
All.
Be.
Changed.
In spite of everything.

I wrote this a few days ago (June 25th) during an early morning QuickWrite session with Linda Rief, the writing mentor at this year's Boothbay Literacy Retreat in Boothbay Harbor, Maine.  I had the privilege of attending this retreat for the first time and I am already needing to go back.  Amazing.  That's the word that kept coming to my lips.  The word I kept rejecting as not adequate, not enough.  What else is there, though?  What word can you use to describe 5 days of "sitting among greatness," as one participant tweeted?

During these five days, we were quite literally listening to legends, writing beside game-changers, soaking up energy from cutting edge learners, thinkers, teachers, writers.  Maybe the word I should use is lucky.  I was so lucky to be there.  Maybe the word I should use is inspired.  I was inspired and excited to go back to my classroom, my kids.  Maybe the word I should use is again.  I need to do this again and again.

The poem comes from a line in Edward Hirsch's poem "In spite of everything, the stars."  The idea of a QuickWrite is to read a short poem, then take a line that speaks to you and use that as the jumping off point for 90 seconds of your own writing.  Any kind of writing, just continual writing for 90 seconds.  This was Tuesday's poem.  Unedited, just as I wrote it.

It surprised me that I could write something that quickly and be OK with sharing it with others...because that's the next step:  sharing.  The only thing that made that part doable is that everyone else had to do it, too.  Sitting there listening to what others did was fascinating--that each one could get something completely different from the same poem.  That's the beauty of the QuickWrite.  It's quick, it's uncensored, it's honest.  And so many times amazing.  There's that word again :)

Memoirs of the Soul

I drove down to the Cape last night weary from a long week full of meetings (albeit good) and travel (albeit interesting). I was tired from the strain of long-carried burdens and sore (from my soap-operation of the morning). I did not know what to expect of the weekend, although I did expect to feel comfortable and comforted at the very least. I've been on a WriteLines retreat before, so know the purpose is to come away feeling empowered as a writer and nurtured as a person. Already I've felt both.

It started with the food. Eating out as a vegetarian is always risky because you never know what's really in the food, even if it has "no meat." Earlier this week in Corpus Christi reinforced that. Fortunately, the retreat director knows and understands my parameters, and so instructs the retreat hosts accordingly. Last night, the woman prepared a lentil-pumpkin stew for me that was truly delicious. How did she know that lentil stew is a favorite of mine (since second grade when we were studying Jacob in Bible class and our teacher made us lentil stew so we'd have an idea of what Jacob had traded his inheritance for. I always thought that even though it was a seriously unequal trade, the stew was almost, but not quite, worth the longing.)? Of course I've never had it with pumpkin. Now I'm wondering why ever not?

The first writing session lasted 3 hours and introduced the six of us (another came this morning) to each other. When I write with groups, especially with strangers, I'm always hesitant to give away too much until I hear how vulnerable they're willing to be. This group of women gave away quite a bit last night. Most more than I. They shared some of the heartaches and tribulations they'd gone through in their lives. One had had brain surgery, another had lost a grandchild (via miscarriage). Some had left their church behind, others were struggling with relationships.

And then there's me. Looking back, now, on what I've revealed, I'm wondering what they know, or think they know, about me. Of course that's not the goal. More to the point, what have I come to know about myself so far? We've now had two 3-hour sessions and written four rough pieces. And here's what I've learned (or been reminded of): I am a blessed person. My life is good and centered and filled with love and support. I have purpose, and I have promise...and plans for the present as well as the future. That's more than many, and better than most. That's what surfaced for me by the end of the morning.

Photos: Harbor Inn, the guest rooms of the Evensong Retreat Center; a garden decoration; the door to my room (#5 on the right); Margaret's Walk, a labyrinth at the back of the retreat property; and the pillow on my bed: Bloom where you are planted.

Soap gets in your eye

This morning, in an effort to simplify my weekend retreat, I decided to wash my hair, and I chose to use a different shampoo from what I'd been using recently. Apparently the container has been unhappy about its neglect because it decided to unleash a glob of shampoo straight into my right eye. For a good five minutes I was in severe pain, unable to even open the eye to flush the soap out. By the time I got it free from shampoo, the damage had been done. My eye has been red and puffy ever since. Oh, and painful.

I spoke with an eye doctor who said just to continue to flush it with water throughout the day and it would clear up within 24 hours. Problem is I had a 3-hour drive south later in the day, and I didn't want to have to drive with a sore, sometimes hazy eye. Twelve hours later, though, here I am at the Evensong Retreat Center, sore eye and all. The eye is still red, and the drive wasn't easy as a result, but I'm here, and I'm ready for some serious retreating.

Photos: The carnations we got at The Olive Garden on Valentine's Day in Corpus Christi; my room at the Evensong Retreat Center.