On Becoming Conscious

What is it that begins the process of becoming aware? Is it personal? Is it universal? Is it trauma? Is it love? What begins that shift from being unconsciously unconscious, moving to consciously unconscious, next to consciously conscious and finally to unconsciously conscious? How does it feel to become aware? This a piece I wrote as a monologue about 15 or so years ago. Please note as you read to try a Southern accent, as I’m sure that’s how I originally wrote and read. I believe there had just been an airline tragedy – must have been early 90’s.


The Tragedy of Mariah Spence Products of Beauty


I’m here to speak to you tonight, but I’ve got to stop and make a… take a…you know, silent moment. We all need to acknowledge the recent tragedy. So many people lost forever. So, let’s take that silent moment now.

Thanks. O.K.

Now, I come to you tonight to talk of my success in selling Mariah Spence Products of Beauty. Somehow in light of this most recent tragedy, my thoughts as I was preparing this speech took a turn. I want to share with you these new thoughts.
First of all, let me say that, yes, I am very successful. I am the lucky recipient of this month’s diamond trio set! And that means I sold more Mariah Spence Products of Beauty than any other salesperson in our United States of America.

But, I wonder, what does it all mean? Here today – gone tomorrow. A diamond trio set today, tomorrow a lunatic could attack me and grab this necklace right off my neck! Then I wouldn’t have a diamond trio set anymore. I’d have a diamond duet.

You know, I have always been very proud of the fact that I sell Mariah Spence Products of Beauty – and in every neighborhood. Even in what I call the neglected neighborhoods. In fact, I have a little motto I use when I introduce myself to these less fortunate human beings. I say, “NNMNBT … Neglected Neighborhood Means Neglected Beauty Treatments!” Then I say, “And you Madame, could do with a little sprucing up!” Now just when it looks like I might get a right hook to the mouth, I hand over a packet of Mariah Spence Marigold Seeds.

“For Free!” I sing, “For a few minutes of your time!” Well that’s when we go in her living room or kitchen, or just sit right on the front steps. I see things you wouldn’t believe. I see things I could not tell my mother in those neighborhoods.

And these women don’t have much money. But they’ll spend. You know why? I can show them how to justify the expense. I equal a jar of $25 Mariah Spence Overnight Beauty Cream that will last her, if she uses it diligently, about five-six weeks – I equal that to the amount of beer her husband drinks in three days. I say, “If he can spend it on himself, honey, you can spend it on yourself! Right?”
And out comes the money! That’s how I work those neighborhoods.

Or always have. But today things feel different for me.

Last night, when I heard the tragic news, my husband and I were having sexual relations. Now I’m not here to give you an intimate view of my life. But, we are all adults here, right? This story is making an important point. My husband moaned this horrific moan of pure ecstasy and then the news announcer flashed on the screen interrupting regular programming. He interviewed an eyewitness that just so happened to be one of my Mariah Spence Products of Beauty customers form one of those neglected neighborhoods. The woman moaned an horrific moan of grief at the loss of her son.

So, it went like this – my husband’s moan of pure ecstasy; the news announcer announcing the tragedy itself; and then this moan of misery.

It was so odd. The moans were so much alike. And yet, they were so different. Kind of like life. So, it really made me think – you know?

Thank you. Thank you for the diamond trio! Go Mariah Spence!



Try your hand at a monologue, a piece of prose or a poem as you reflect upon this piece and write whatever it is that springs from it. Remember, your piece is yours – Whatever you write is what it is about for you. Allow yourself to become aware of your writing process – what it takes for you to write your piece. I’d like to make that part of our discussion. We welcome new Soul Writers! Please send your writings to me by Sunday night to my email iampetrina@bellsouth.net or post yourself on Monday morning!

Love Always,
Petee

It's Heart Day! Love Always...Always LOVE...

I know we are not through commenting on the last set of responses; please continue to respond to the last post and poems. I planned to post today, so I could share some of the love poems that have become my favorites. If you are looking for a great gift of love poetry to give your beloved, which of course could simply be YOU, The Gift written by Hafiz and translated by Daniel Ladinsky is the way to go. This book offers so much love and I love it so much. I've been reading this book since about the year 2001 and it is definately on my MUST list. Giving this book, The Gift, as a gift has given me such a gift of sharing - spreading the words of love and healing. There are so many more writers who are my favorites for love poetry. Especially those of you who are new to appreciating poetry, find the poetry section in the book store or library and immerse yourself. Find the words and writers, which can bring inspiration, tears and joy. There are so many combinations of words and sentences, syntax and form. A vast myriad of love expressed for our pleasure.

Ok. How about some love poetry? I'll put down a few of mine here. Sometimes I am writing about the love of my life and sometimes I am writing about my own love essence. I love love. Enjoy.

#1

the Beloved, thank G-d
understands the smell of
Rose and Jasmine
the curve of the trembling
lip
opened mouth
head arched back
ecstasy of Soul
Spirit
Body
Psyche
a moment of coming together

of absolute abandon

of complete balance
of release
into my essence
vitality spilling outward
passion spiraling
hot in my belly
daring me to be really me
risking my adventure home
grounding me
transcending earth
filling me with Joy
Laughter and
Love


#2 A For Real

Flashing sparkling eyes
Blinking up and seeing clearly
Into yours, finding –
Me in the reflection!
Giggling from the inside out…
A delicate tingle transmuting cells,
Awakening energy;
Oxygen breathing into nooks and crannies.
Holding these feelings precious…
Allowing them to linger
In between
Times when I get to flash my eyes
Into yours again
And refill.




#3 thank you

your venison stew
that’s what did it for me
broth so thick and sweet
potatoes perfectly cooked
carrots still firm like I like
venison tender
delivered hot and fresh
with kindness and feeling
what an unexpected pleasure




#4 evolution of the moon

a gentle and creative lover
the full moon engages the
water
causing a shimmering
reflection
shuddering with delight
intimacy creating a
rippling rhythm
revealing truth and
beauty
exposing vulnerable passion
loving the vitality
experiencing the
sacred

and we
are
dancing
underneath
that moon




#5 like riding a bike

so he kissed me.
and i kissed him.
on the lips
full and soft lips.
this is what i remember
i turned because my friends had hugged and kissed his friend
i was glad because that meant
i could hug and kiss charlie
we went down the line and i was last
a quick hug for his friend and i turned
it was like a dance move
the grace with which he pulled me out of
that embrace
(or was it his eyes)
curling me into his arms
he pulled me to him and pulled me tight
against him and
it was then
against him
face to face
his lips
met my lips
and he kissed me
and i kissed him
on the lips full and soft
this is what i remember
his gentle hand firmly on my back
so I wouldn’t fall





#6

breathing deeply
i will
find a melody within my inner spirit
a harmony within my humanness
love myself dearly
brightly reflect the love I receive
replenish the love I spend
work through whichever piece of my story calling out
journey into the unknown
RISK
ALL
to become more
genuine and
WHOLE
Empower My Being
it is my time
it is my responsibility
it is my joy

with commitment
with honor
i gift myself
with me
and in such
i gift myself
with you
remembering our
beloved friendship


Love & Peace


Breathe in the Love. Write your own love poems. Allow yourself to love yourself, your essence, your God, your lover, your spouse, your mother, your child, your passion, your favorite thing, something. Love something as you write.

As you send your poems to my email, realize I do not even really look at them until I post them on Monday morning. I want the effect of us reading in the room. One following another. To respond to each person separately is a great idea so that you can really read and appreciate each piece. For now - READ; BREATHE; WRITE; LOVE!

Always Love,
Petee

Remember you may still post comments on the last prompt...and put March 8 on your calendar to come together to write at Solutions for a Soul Writing Saturday Workshop!

Always In Process...Write On!

It seems we are. We are always in process, searching, trying out new ways of thinking; feeling and being. One thing that has always held ground for me - no matter how I'm evolving/changing/transcending/transmuting/evensittingstill - is writing. As I allow the process to process on paper, I become clearer and easier with my focus. I am less likely to criticize my issues that are at hand. I can write and revel in my thoughts and feelings. I can scream... and cry... and say no... and say yes - I can have a voice that maybe I cannot muster out loud. Listen to the many voices of healing. I offer several of my own poems/writings and one great poem by Marge Piercy.

one morning

it seemed like the right thing to do
get up early and sit behind/in front (?) of the keyboard
allowing my fingers to play across keys spelling words
it seemed the only thing to do i had long before lost control
sleep was no option dreams woke me to this fate
and so I sit staring at blank page and isn’t it funny that
even though actual typewriter or legal pad or clipboard is not
physically in hand the page is still blank (I like that thought!)
i think i am waiting for my psyche to open to unconscious flow
words somehow channeled out of a sleepy brain
only somewhat able to manipulate syntax and spelling
and somehow motivated to this task before the sun rises
realizing time is my own this morning and naps are a saturday
commodity (Another thought I like!) and the thought that i can
unconsciously allow thoughts that i like is a comfort… a thrill
in this time for me when most waking moments are filled with
sadness and pain from events i cannot control at all
only my psyche would have thought of this maneuver
because here i am thinking lovely thoughts
am i sprinkled with fairy dust?



after the hours

it is with anguish i live each day
waking with original pain and
my insanities
inhibiting my wholeness
blocking my growth
my simplicity to live in balance
with the rest of the world
even my creativity…
i am visionary
i do know too much
i do feel too much
my poetry leaks out
oozes word by word by phrase
to make claim
to make sense
revealing to me each lens
through which i see
it is all i can do with ease
alone
finding solace in words exposing
my uncomfortable spaces
crying out to others who can hear my
angst and reach to me with
a feeling of connection
to touch their own
unknown
thereby acknowledging my soul
allowing me to feel myself
…just barely breathing




just now

it is you who has come to me in peace
in trickster disguise to teach
my personal shaman
how perfect
it is you who walks with god
espousing truth and love
my heart is listening to you
my heart is opening
albeit slow to trust
so many years of blackness
a severed blade dulled inside me
only a matching dull ache
until now
when i am learning
that this truth and love you teach
this god you speak of
is me
and it has been all along
i forgot
just now i see it in my eyes




to the left

teetering sure footed
stars are
shooting madly all around
expressions of excitement and energy
made with sound and light
and feelings dancing in my belly

which way to go which way to go

my current path deep and wide
rutted with steadfast surety
i cannot fail
however just a foot to the
left is where
silence is breaking the sound
barrier with raucous inconsistency
love is brilliantly steaming from
morning cereal bowls
abandon is laughing holding out his arms for me
beckoning
abundance is absolute
and you are standing there smiling

tottering surefooted
galaxies
are changing area codes
heads are thrown back in ecstasy
flowers are blooming for all to smell

this is just a foot away
a phone call away
a smile away a
winkakissapoema
jug of wine away
a universe could be inside
the baseball knocked outside
the park

which way to go which way to go

moment by moment

(to the left)





Unlearning to not Speak
Marge Piercy

Blizzards of paper
in slow motion
sift through her.
In nightmares she suddenly recalls
a class she signed up for
but forgot to attend.
Now it is too late.
Now it is time for finals:
losers will be shot.
Phrases of men who lectured her
drift and rustle in piles:
Why don’t you speak up?
Why are you shouting?
You have the wrong answer,
wrong line, wrong face.
They tell her she is a womb-man,
Babymachine, mirror image, toy,
earth mother and penis-poor,
a dish of synthetic strawberry icecream
rapidly melting.
She grunts to a halt.
She must learn again to speak
starting with I
Starting with We
starting as the infant does
With her own hunger
and pleasure
and rage.



Piercy, by the way, is a very published contemporary poet-writer. She has many great things to say. Pick up a book and get to know her work. In the meantime, read here and write a response. Send your writing to me by Sunday and I'll post for comments. So it's time to write. Allow the poems to touch something, connect somehow. Allow yourself. Breathe. Write. Love.
Always LOVE,
Petee