Soul On Deck

“…One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times.” –  Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Do not be ashamed of the fear, the worry, the anxiety. Do not feel that your heartbreak over what is happening is misplaced, or wrong, or out of line. These promptings are voices from your inner compass, the gyro that keeps you stable, the inalienable center that is YOU. These feelings of injustice and outrage against the seeming shamelessness of those who engage in the fearsome practice of eating from the table of our sisters and brothers, of our children. These inner promptings are invaluable, and the seed of power. They will carry you far, if you will have courage in your thoughts about how to respond.
I would encourage you to lean in, see what the most insistent fear is for you right now. Listen to this turmoil in your heart – not to be overwhelmed or swept away, but to lean into the most bright spaces of fire. Look calmly, take time to listen, then experiment with the idea of putting yourself at it’s service. Give some time to hear and understand the message. Find your unique way to answer the prompting at the center of your fear.

Find a bucket, a basket for this and begin to carry it with you, A gesture, a word, a poem. A walk around the block. Use any way that occurs to you spontaneously to begin to move with it. You are finding your personal way to answer the call that is hammering away within.

Attend to the places where it seems your fear becomes lessened, where you feel it brighten and the flame steadies in peace. Those are the forks in the road, the little outcroppings where you can set up camp. Unexpected treasure caves may be revealed, for you to discover work to be done to liberate this energy into purpose. When you do, a gesture of power will come to you. This gesture will begin the process of moving your energy to the best direction for you to do the most good.

Don’t get hung up – there is time, although not too much of it to be sure, so begin moving. By leaning into what the energy is telling you, and moving with it, you become a container for the force that will serve to free us all. The energies are shaking you, perhaps because you have the exact convergence of powers and loves to respond. It’ll be bumpy at first. But you will gain precision and finesse as you move along with it. I would love to hear what you are doing to help keep this world, as Keats would say, “a vale of soul making.”

Featured image by Michele Montserrat

sunset ship boat sea
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

WLYA – 11 for 11!

Feelin’ all sassy and limber today, a good bit of work done. It’s been a busy week or so, and I’m really pleased with how well the Write Like You’re Alive 31/31 creativity challenge is going. Today, I finished up editing some draft pieces from last week, finalized three pieces from this week, and I’m completely up to date with the sprint.

Also, taking risks and being more vulnerable in my work – one aubade I feel comfortable showing, and several edgy, funny ones too, if I do say so myself.

Can’t share any here yet, but I’ll probably find time to do something more substantive and stand-alone, to post here on my blog. This writing stuff is addictive!

Daybreak_by_Parrish_(1922)

Week One of the Writing Challenge

I completed the first week of the Write Like You’re Alive Creativity Challenge and I’m satisfied with the work I put in. This writing sprint challenges the participants to create a new piece each day – poetry, flash fiction, artwork – and this is the third year I’ve participated. My first published piece ever owes it’s existence to this project. Each year I’ve discovered surprises in my writing, not the least of which is that I can produce original writing I’m proud of under a tight deadline.

Keep reaching for your dreams…

Reaching for Dreams
Tin Frog Sculpture photo by Michele Montserrat

Repost – Poetry Lab #1 — CALIATH

FIRST, A QUEST. The image above, if carefully examined, displays three differently animated levels distinguishable by their relation to velocity and, by consequence, Time. This animation device has been used to display certain feelings in a much clearer way: her face is animated carefully and slowly, every frame is fluid, to inspire serenity and […]

via Poetry Lab #1 — CALIATH

Beauty – Iteration 18

First beauty – architectural blueprint for Prince’s Paisley Park complex.

Second beauty – Annie Lennox on the radio, singing “Would I Lie to You?”

Third beauty – blessed coolness: overcast, breeze, birdsong like crazy.

Next beauty – two well-dressed women; dark eyes, mouths speaking sweetness. A wonderful perfume.

Next beauty – my mood, buoyant, peaceful. The body at ease.

Penultimate beauty – I will not give up, no matter what the cost,

 

 

WIN_20160319_18_16_14_Pro (2)
Mimosa – Cover Image by David Bradford Kane, Self image by Michele Montserrat

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Tale of Herring Do

She was still reeling from errant seagull attacks. That would certainly teach her to keep anchovies in her pocket. She tried rinsing her jacket in the bay water but couldn’t get the stink off, so she resigned herself to smelling like a bag of overripe fish for the duration of her walk to town. She’d try to find a cheap jacket at the Redeemer Family Light thrift store, “where all your purchase dollars go to our Heal the Poor ministry and job training center.” Hell, with the stench wafting up strong and feral from the front of the coat pockets, she might as well ask what kinds of benefits they might have available for her. If the threadbare hoodie and torn gloves weren’t enough to have a charity take pity on her, the herring breeze which dogged her steps like hound dog in heat might do the trick.

WP_20160730_18_56_21_Pro
All photos created by Michele Montserrat

“They Could Hear Their Children Screaming for Them From the Next Room”

What are we doing as a nation? This is like a nightmare from which you can’t awaken, that goes deeper and deeper into darkness.

Justin DaMetz

If you can measure the moral fiber of a nation by how it treats children and the vulnerable, then its easy to see that the United States under Donald Trump has shed any moral leadership it once carried.

35065632_1691544297632463_5572430109022879744_o Jesus Christ, ripped from Mary’s arms and thrown in a cage.

News and images coming out of Border Patrol detention facilities over the last few weeks show heartbreaking images of parents, searching for a better life than the violence of drug gangs who feed American addictions, being forcibly separated from children as young as just a few months old. We see pictures of small children locked in cages inside warehouses, sleeping on hard floors and not being allowed sunlight and space to move.

This, put simply, is highly immoral. What we as a nation are doing to these people and these children is evil and goes against human nature, not to mention…

View original post 1,165 more words

Federico Garciá Lorca

“…never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged Autumn.”

Today is the birthdate of playwright and poet Federico Garciá Lorca, born in1898 in Fuente Vaqueros, near Granada in Spain. Check out the link below to read more about him on Poets dot Org.

There’s also a relatively new translation of Lorca’s work – Poet in Spain – that was published last fall by Knopf.”

“Riveting . . . Lorca’s poems from Spain are a poetry of dreams and journeys and glimpses from balconies, of sunbaked meadows and realms of erotic yearning . . . Arvio is a supple translator, and she has delivered a personal book . . . [Her] rich and gripping retranslation of ‘Blood Wedding’ [is] of a piece with Lorca’s blood-warm verse.” —Dwight Garner, The New York Times

Federico on Poets.org

In 1936, García Lorca was staying at Callejones de García, his country home, at the outbreak of the Civil War. He was arrested by Franquist soldiers, and on August 19, after a few days in jail, soldiers took García Lorca to “visit” his brother-in-law, Manuel Fernandez Montesinos, the Socialist ex-mayor of Granada whom the soldiers had murdered and dragged through the streets. When they arrived at the cemetery, the soldiers forced García Lorca from the car. They struck him with the butts of their rifles and riddled his body with bullets. His books were burned in Granada’s Plaza del Carmen and were soon banned from Franco’s Spain.

“Verde que te quiero verde”

Featured image illustration by Natalie Matthews-Ramo. Photos by Thinkstock, Universal History Archive/UIG via Getty Images.