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GRATEFUL


I have this quote by Barbara Kingsolver in my notebook that says: "No subject is too private for good fiction if it can be made beautiful and enlightening." I clipped it from Reader's Digest but it originally appeared in the NYT. I was thinking about that quote as I was driving along the highway on July 3rd.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned that I work with disabled children and adults. I don't like using that word "disabled" but for now, suffice it to say that I work with physically and mentally challenged adults and children. Now, stressful as it may be, I have the good fortune of working from home so I only have to go out and interact with people every once in a while. I say fortunately b/c if you know anything about working in the healthcare industry it can be quite depressing after a while. Anyhow, I received this new referral -- a woman in her early thirties, gun shot victim. My first thought was that it was something drug related. "Here we go again," I thought to myself, getting dressed in no particular hurry. What I learned later is that she is the mother of three young children, a single parent working full time to support herself and her children, average citizen, coming home from the beauty salon and caught in random cross fire. She is paralyzed from the neck down and is fully dependent upon a ventilator for life. She has only the ability to move her head --- that's it.

My first thought, and I mean first thought, was my children: what the hell would I do if something like that happened to me? My second thought was a scolding -- to myself for having judged this woman before I'd even had all the facts.

Now, I'm a writer's writer. I believe that everything is a story. Barbara Kingsolver's quote kind of re-affirmed that for me. I am never without a pen and a piece of paper because stories always seem to find me. In fact, in my purse are both my writing journal and a set of index cards because my Musze knows that I am equipped no matter where I go and she often visits me when I'm on the go. Yea, nice sense of humor she has. Anyhow.....as I was driving home and thinking about this woman I thought about Barbara's quote. Where is the story in this? I asked myself. This is not a story. This is a tragedy that could happen to anyone of us at any given time. No, this was not a story I wanted to tell or even entertain. That's it, I told the Musze, leave it alone.

But nothing this powerful can escape the ready mind. When I say ready mind, I am speaking about the mind that is open to infinite wisdom and possibility....the mind that ponders, dreams, wishes, stretches possibilities....that's the kind of mind I have....always thinking. Anyhow, this woman has not escaped me. And, like my first short story in which the narrator nagged the hell out of me until I wrote the story down....this woman is sitting in the back of my mind, waiting patiently for me to tell her story. Now, how will I do it? Will I speak somewhere about gun violence? Am I supposed to write an essay? Or is this a piece of fiction I should develop? Should she be put in the play that I've started sketching (more about that in another post). I don't know. I really don't. And until I do, I have to just let it alone.

I share this because I think that to be born with the gift of writing is such a tremendous blessing. Beyond the fame of having one's book on a shelf or being selected by a bookclub ... writing is so much deeper than that. Anyone can be famous...look at the clowns on the evening news. Jump off a building and BINGO! you're famous.
But to write a story (which I believe almost every story is to some degree degree autobiographical) and to take something tragic and turn it into something beautiful or moving or enlightening or empowering.....that's a tremendous blessing.

I am so grateful for my life. For my children. For my husband and my family. Beyond that, I am so grateful to be on the wisdom journey that I am on. I am grateful for the stories that seem to come from absolutely nowhere ..... but I'm learning that they DO come from somewhere.
I am grateful to be writing and recording and reading and listening. I am grateful to the elders -- Barbara Kingsolver, Alice Walker, Zora Neale Hurston --- whose quotes cover my wall and encourage me to keep along on this journey. I'm grateful for Bob Marley and Marvin Gaye, Erykah Badu and India Arie, Stevie Wonder and Miles Davis....Man, I'm so grateful to be alive.

:::peace:::
angel

NATTY DREAD

Last night I had the most pleasurable experience: I sat and watched, for the second time, the VH-1 documentary on Bob Marley. Now, of course I've listened to his music. I've seen many a tie-dyed tee shirt with his lion-like image emblazoned on the front. I know that he has a son named Ziggy and other children....that he lived in one of the most impoverished countries in the hemisphere...but what I didn't know, until last night, was the truth about the man behind the music, beneath the natty dreads, behind the smoke screen of ganja that he is so famous for having enjoyed. What I didn't know, but learned after one and a half hours, is that the man was probably one of the truest, most committed and certainly one of the most talented artists of our time.

The Role of Art

What Bob Marley understood and respected was that the ability to create art is truly a gift. And to have such gift bestowed upon you is truly a high and heavy calling. What Bob Marley intended to do was use his music, lyrics, to unify the people of his country. His music was an expression of love, community, respect, union. Though it's no secret that most of his early listeners were probably black, his art - music - truly transcended race. Any person with a reasonable degree of understanding about God knows that his success was inevitable. Now I'm not speaking about the financial -- I am talking about the success of having his lyrics -- his message about God and self love -- spread across the world. What is the dream of every true artist? I would argue that the true artist, the one who recognizes her work as gift, truly wants to be able to come away with the knowledge that the larger community has been served in some meaningful way. For me, and I can only speak to my own work, that is what I hope to be able to do. Bob Marley seemed to have been on a lifelong quest for higher consciousness. He never seemed to be satisfied, content if you will, with the success of the previous album. Each album seemed to be a movement toward a higher level of understanding of himself, of the community, of his God, Jah. He knew that he held a responsibility in every word that was spoken through the microphone. He was conscious of the effect of his words -- and THAT, that very consciousness and acceptance of responsibility, it is what I think is sorely lacking in today's musicians.

Till Death Do Us Part

What I thought was really profound was when an assassination attempt was made and he and his wife, Rita, had been shot. Not only was Bob committed to still performing at a public concert, he mocked the bullet scar that was left on his chest ... almost, as if to say ... hey, you can shoot me, and perhaps even send me to a grave, but you can't kill my art and you can't take my soul.
The artist makes art until her death. There is never the question about whether or not one has chosen the "right" career, whether or not the choice will pay off in the long or short run. The artist paints....writes...makes music....dances...not for money or fame or for lack of something else better to do. The artist does what she does because she has to and not doing so would be the equivalent of death.


On Love...

The other thing that I thought was pretty remarkable was how the two main women in his life, Rita and Cindy, were both at his bedside during the last stages of his life. Rita was his wife, Cindy was his lover. Bob seemed to have had many many affairs but his wife, Rita, for whatever her reasons maintained her relationship with her husband. They bore four children together and I guess, when it's all said and done, nothing is stronger than that. What a testimony it was to the strength of love. I'm certainly not saying she was wise nor am I saying she wasn't .... who am I to judge? and who of any of us knows what we would have done given the same situation (i.e., growing up together and bearing four children together, making music together and traveling the world together, eating beans together because the art has not yielded any money....who of any of us knows what we would have done. I certainly don't).


Anyhow, it was a very interesting documentary which I thoroughly enjoyed and would encourage any artist to view.
For the record, it's being aired two more times this month. Just hop over to the VH-1 website and check the schedule. And of course, for the aficionados, there's always the Bob Marley Site

In peace,
ANGEL

PROGRESS NOTES


Well it's July 1st and where I'd set this as a target date to be finished .... I am not. Partly because I lost a month's worth of writing time in May (death in the family) and the first week in June (daughter's birthday and graduation). But I am not discouraged ... actually I'm rather pleased. I am officially in Book Three, the last part of my novel. I expect that there will only be another ten chapters or so as things are coming to a head rather quickly. I am more interested in getting out every single fact that needs to be told about this story. I don't think there's any benefit in rushing a first draft. What will there be to re-write if one doesn't know the full story from beginning to end? I went to the Iowa Summer Writer's Festival in June and my instructor, Sands Hall, said "It is much easier to strip away than it is to add." So I plug along to get all of the story on paper and then I shall begin my re-writes.


The other day, something very interesting occurred, though. I officially finished the last chapter in Book Two and as I opened up a new page and typed Book Three - a nervous feeling came over me. I began to realize that soon, very soon, I will be done. I will have written an entire novel. I will be responsible for rewriting this mammoth and trying to shape it into something worthwhile. Can I really pull it off? I wondered. How will I know what should be cut and what should stay? I believe in visualization and I began visualizing myself with a finished hardcover novel, seated at a table signing my autograph. It felt so strange and so wonderful and at that very moment I began to feel afraid. I began to wonder "will it really happen?" My mind started to wander .... knowing that there are so many friends waiting to see this thing I've been working on for the longest time. Will they find it any good? I knew I needed to get out of the house. I needed to remove myself from my desk for awhile to digest and process these thoughts. I showered and went out to the library where I bought three used books for seventy-nine cents. To me, that's like winning the lottery. Then I just went for a drive, opened up my senses to my surroundings, felt the breeze on my neck, listened to the wind, did some people watching. What came over me is the fact that with or without this novel, I am and will always be a writer and an artist. It is not about writing what I think someone will like, it is about telling this story accurately and intelligently. It's about being present and enjoying the here and the now....this phase where I am still an unknown and there is no pressure on me from an editor or an agent to produce...produce...produce. I know that day will come. It's about perfecting my story and my craft. It's about cultivating a sense of awareness....absorbing and being present....bringing all of it to my writing. I came back home, turned on the oven and started my family's dinner. I sat down and began the next chapter, in the final section, knowing that I'm going to put my best foot forward and keep doing what I'm doing and let God handle the rest.

Oh, and for the record I received word that my short story didn't win in the Arts & Letters Contest. Some other chap from D.C. won. Good for him. If I'm not mistaken I think it's about the third or fourth contest I've not won. Which leads me to the decision that I will probably only submit to contests that are free from here on out. Most of these journals run contests with $15 entry fees solely for the purpose of generating money to keep their magazines in print. I don't think that's the case with Arts & Letters but it is the case for many others. So from here on I think I'm going to look for anthologies and keep looking through the Novel Writer's Market for other publications to submit to.
It's frustrating b/c $15 could have purchased a year's subscription to a magazine or journal that I really want rather than a one time reading fee. Oh well, you live and you learn.

ANGEL