Showing posts with label CBC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CBC. Show all posts

Thursday, June 9, 2016

Little Foul Joy


Little Foul Joy

it wasn’t yesterday
a drolly aggrieved girl
turned to a blank page
in an overfed notebook
& scribbled a sequence
of roseate words

heart of waiting
cannot be undone
                love is an ending

in her book of small sorrows      
                sweetness still flows

little foul joy
                this poem’s accomplice

**

I was feeling a little edgy this afternoon, ants in my pants kind of edgy: and so I took the thoughts that were swirling around in my day-dreams and spun them into a poem. It's just a little something to stretch the creative muscles, keep the fingers nimble, and the fires burning. I in truth, I was flipping and flopping between this wee verse and another that wont' be ready until tomorrow, won't make sense until then as well. And it never hurts when I am feeling as I am for Ryan Adams to sound on the CBC station that keeps me company at my work desk. Hearing his music always conjures up the urge to write and for that I am grateful.

Nothing else but the radio ...

In propinquity,
Nic


Sunday, January 18, 2015

Where The Heart Finds Rest


Where the Heart Finds Rest

the heart finds rest in random illuminations
in minute ceremonies of ordinary miracles

it is a marvel to be conscious of courage
wade in the sweetness of acceptable silence
revel in the looseness of peaceful prose poems

the heart finds rest in accidental happenstance
in small increments of clarity and welcome whimsy

it is a pleasure to be unabashedly redeemed by love
to be augmented by firmly shaped acts of imaginative thinking
to understand the eminent shorthand of binding kinship

where the heart finds rest is in the little things
elegantly plotted stars and a grain of fine sand
where the heart finds rest is in the kindest things
the knightly things the brightly shining things

turning a narrative into a realized dream
                is where the heart finds rest

 **

The theme of this weekend was everything to do with the marvel and beauty of children. I spent a little time with good friends and their little guy on Friday night. It was a lovely way to decompress after a long work. I don’t get to see them often enough and I was in awe of his smallness which is truly his greatness. All of that wonder in his sweet little face, his curiosity, his innocence, his peacefulness; all astonishing. It did my heart to sit on the floor with him and play toys and to dole out quick kisses to his soft little cheek and hear his laughter. When the world is upside down, the sound of baby giggles, is the best thing in the world.

On the same night, I received a text message from my best friend that her daughter’s water broke. Baby Britton was on her way! After a long labour, the brave and exhausted Mama delivered a gorgeous baby girl into the world. I got meet Baby Britton today, barely 24 hours old, and fell madly in love. She felt like a little miracle in my arms. I look forward to watching her grow and become one of the fierce and wonderful women that make up her amazing family. In the aftermath of losing my Dad, seeing new promising life swaddled up in my arms put so much into perspective. It took everything to suck in the tears but if any had fallen they would have been happy ones. Another friend of mine had her baby boy this week as well. My FB newsfeed is currently full of joy and baby love and I couldn’t be happier.

I always insisted I didn’t want children. It was one of those things, being from a large family, being the baby, all of my siblings brought wonderful creatures into my life and I always maintained that they were enough for me, they all own my heart, every single piece of it, and now even some of those kids aren’t kids anymore and have babies of their own that I love just as much. The only time I truly fell in love with a man, it caused me to re-think my thoughts about having a family. Loving another person can do that, can alter your map. It was a short-lived thought of course, as the love failed but I always appreciate that it opened my heart up enough to consider changing my heart. It left me with some painful regrets, especially knowing that there won’t be a little person to carry me into the world, through their eyes and their dreams and in their own children. It makes my heart ache but it is constantly healed on days like today when I am given the privilege to inhale that intoxicating newborn smell and to be part of a support system and watch them grow up and move through this world. Blessings.

I also designated this weekend to a new writing project. I started to work on a creative non-fiction piece for the CBC competition. My goal is to have it finished by next weekend, the rough draft anyway. It has to be postmarked by March 1st. I’m confident in myself in that I will meet my writing deadline and get it in in plenty of time.

Without giving too much away, I am writing about my Dad. It took some time to narrow down my options but I found something that I think will appeal to those who knew and loved him. It is a memory of mine and I look forward to sharing it. I just want to do him justice. I said the same when I penned his eulogy and I received good feedback so I know I’ve got this.

It was a productive day. I managed to finish the enclosed poem. To spend a little time alone in my writing room with my headphones on, the window cracked just a touch because it’s mild tonight, to write. And now, after this post, while the laundry is in, I’ll light a candle, sit quiet and count all of the things I’m grateful for. Good things happened today. Good things will happen tomorrow. They will because my life is full, it is rich, not with things or in money, but in people, in poems, in peace.

I hope whatever you did it today, it brought you joy.

In propinquity,
Nic




























Monday, September 23, 2013

Words Fallsy Downsies in 1982

Word On The Street was FANTASTIC!  What a gorgeous day I had wandering around the Halifax waterfront, mingling with gentle souls, drinking coffee, fondling and buying books, enjoying everything literary.  I also took in two dazzling author readings by Halifax’s Stephanie Domet and the infallible Jian Ghomeshi .


Stephanie Domet engaged us with an animated reading from her impressive and forthcoming novel “Fallsy Downsies”.  I am currently reading her first novel entitled “Homing” and I am deeply in love with her writing style and her storytelling skills.  She has a fresh, vibrant voice and I admire her passion for her craft.  I’ve been reading her work for years, when she wrote for The Coast and am enjoying her creative writing.  It is evident from her characters, her story structure and themes that she pays careful attention and applies a great deal of love to the pressure of her pen.  She will be launching “Fallsy Downsies” on October 23rd at 6:30pm at The Carleton, I look forward to buying a copy and having the chance to say hello.


Stephanie also had the pleasure of introducing Jian Ghomeshi who was this year’s headliner in the CBC More Than Words tent, set to read from his chart topping, recently released in trade paperback, creative non-fiction effort called “1982”.  I finished reading it on Friday so I would be primed for this engagement and it made his reading that much more compelling.

“1982” is a heartfelt account of an Iranian-Canadian teen, obsessed with Bowie, in love with an older girl, a music obsessed New Waver coming of age in the 1980s.  The universal themes of the book are noted as the triumphs of outsiders and a love for music.  What kid didn’t feel like they totally didn’t fit in in high school?  What kid didn’t fall in love with someone they thought was cool and perhaps out of their league?   I identified with some of the emotions and insecurities he shared but most of all I shared his passion for music.  In the book he talks about how when he was a kid, to go and buy music was such a labor of love.  These days, when you like a song, you can click a button and it is yours.  In the 80s, it was literally a pilgrimage.  He describes the long journeys to acquire a record and that story choked me up because I saw myself in it, climbing on a bus in Eastern Passage to make my way to Barrington Street to Sam The Record Man.  Entering the store was just like heaven, multiple floors worth.  If you wanted music then, you had no choice but to travel for it.  And believe me; you had to love what you were in pursuit for to make that trip.  Just like Jian and his pal, I would buy my record, get back on the bus, devour the liner notes and memorize every last inch of the artwork before I even got back to my stereo to listen.  When he talked about this portion of the book yesterday, I filled up again, with nostalgia, with gratitude that I was fortunate enough to live at a time when music was exciting and sacred and sad for the kids that came up after me who will never understand the impending joy of such a jaunt.


Jian Ghomeshi is described as polite and inclusive as an interviewer but the same can be said for his presenting style.  He spoke to an ardent audience yesterday, enjoying a harmonious exchange inspiring a great deal of laughter, introspection and an all-around feel-good atmosphere.  Jian is dedicated to his work, a proud Canadian and a humanist through and through.  He is also six times more beautiful in person than he is on TV.  He lifted hearts yesterday, tickled funny bones and made everyone’s day he came in contact with.  Not a bad day’s work, eh?  I absentmindedly left my copy of the book on my nightstand so I had him sign the back cover of my writing book instead, the book I bought for myself at the Leonard Cohen show.  I apologized for forgetting but thought since it was the year of encountering all of my favorite Canadians, it seemed fitting to have him sign something Cohen.  I also expressed to him the same as I did here, about how that passage of his book moved me to tears thinking about my former self.  It seemed to touch him but I am sure he hears that often and it must feel good to know he has put something into the world that isn’t only universal but emotionally monumental to like-minded people like me.

(You can see the top of my head!)

It was a perfect day.  I hated for it to end but the feeling of contentment and peace lingers. 

On the writing front, I’m knee deep into ‘Too Much To Contain’.  I took myself out for a bit of an artist date on Saturday and worked out some details and wrote them out later that night in my writing room complete with the music that I need to fuel the difficult range of emotions required.  That is still proving to be a challenge for me.  My heart tends to be too big and soft to conjure acts of violence on the page.  I am trying.
                             
I am back to the grind today, working for the man.  The weekend already feels like it is a million miles away but my heart is still full.  I love that feeling.

In propinquity,
Nic



Monday, November 19, 2012

On The Incline



Everyone wants to elevate, yes?  Improve and grow, ascend to higher levels of humanity?  I’d like to think so.  I’d like to believe that even amidst all of the anguish and despair and outright stupidity in the world there are still those of us who want to burn brighter, to put colour in the world with goodness and fortitude.  Optimism in the face of on-going global strife, political emergency and spiritual discord – that’s what I believe in.  It’s frightening to look to news outlets for the world’s summary.  To have to turn to those who spin a story on its anguished axis to sell papers and magazines and improve ratings.  I feel like public figures have become not so much celebrities but cartoon characters and we are constantly missing the punch-line or are the butt of their asinine jokes.  And what of those people who call themselves writers?  The ones who bring us the news?  For the many that gravitate toward TMZing us for quick thrills and fast-paced tabloid faux-accolades, they are burying those few decent journalists that work tirelessly and strive to bring you the ‘real’ news.  We are so stupefied by bullshit reporting these days that true, intelligent newsworthy pieces are lost on us.  As are the lessons.

I suppose this comes from still being in a US Election hangover and discovering that the Globe & Mail has gone assaholic and will only allow me to read 10 stories before I am supposed to ‘subscribe’ and pay to read my news online.  Guess what, negative.  Literally.  I am making a promise to myself to ease off of the news for a little bit.  To not allow myself become so engrossed in it and to frequent sites and watch broadcasts that care more about their people and communities and the world instead of salacious splashy details and rely on fabrications *coughcoughfoxnewscoughcough*.  I could say that’d be CBC but they sort of have a hate on for our Canadian Forces which doesn’t really sit well with me so I guess I’ll have to resort to CTV news here at home, which means more of Cindy Day’s loopy hair and wardrobe fiascos and the Live At 5 crew who take us into our own backyards with stories that for the most part, appear relevant. 

This rant also comes on the heels of my inquiring about volunteer opportunities.  I really want to do something with a positive edge, to give to others, help others, to give back to the world somehow.  I have a few feelers out right now and am hoping to get started sometime soon.  More on that as it develops.  It’s time for me to re-focus and be mindful that reading articles about CIA numbskulls bonking babes and overdosing on news articles that in no way shape my person are better left for those with a lot of time on their hands, like those who leave long negative diatribes under news articles online.  Opinions are like assholes …

All that being said, it’s another day of trying to find the blessings, the better stuff, to be grateful and to seek justice when only it’s needed, to listen without judgment, learn and keep hope and goodness at the forefront of all of my intentions.  While I am doing good, I will maintain hope for greatness for the world and for others.  I know that those who do succeed but I like to think that those with hope will act and move toward positive change.   I think hope has a real place in our lives; it upholds our faith and inspires us to advance.  I like to live my life always on an incline.  It gives me something to strive for.  I trust it does for you as well.

Poetry:

On The Incline

amid
sand
& sky

speech
& space

words
& wonder

are

the full
focus

of

surveying
hope

&

endorsing
infinite

wisdom

on the
incline

**

Happy Monday, friendly readers and fellow optimists.

In propinquity,
Nic