Sunflowers flick their golden heads beckoning me Come play in the sun, But notebooks purchased, college and plain-ruled, full of empty promises flutter their pages and flirt with my dreams wherein I set up classrooms and visit dear students of days gone by In this yearning…and learning…time of year. ~N. Coco, draft 9-6-22
Hello, dear pals!
I don’t even need to turn the calendar page or open a window at first light to know that the seasons are changing. It’s in my bones. Longings stir in me for the return to the classroom. Though much has changed since my departure from full-time teaching in 2006, in the circle and communion of writers is where I still reside, a life-long learner.
One of the ways I give myself a space of allowing when yearnings infiltrate my sleep is to open a blank page in my writer’s notebook and wander around to “see” what’s inside me. The poem draft, “Days Gone By” is just such a wander.
For me, noodling around with snippets of images and ideas is often a lighter pursuit than, say, crafting a newsletter. It’s my version of a literary “snack.” Not to say that length determines complexity or degree of nourishment. A quality poem can serve up an entire meal in a small bite. My poetry attempts are a way I have of talking with myself and honoring all that’s showing up in my present experience. I accept Muriel Rukeyser’s invitation:
“Breathe in experience, Breathe out poetry.”
This month, I’m inviting myself to meander around inside my mind and heart and see what snippets of experience want to be breathed out into poems. I’m even going back and revisiting old writings, like “Harvest” below, which I penned in 2003. It takes me back to a time of deep transition and reminds me of my resilient spirit. Writing is so often my best friend! Which is to say, I guess, that I am my own best friend when I can hold all parts of my experience and allow all of myself to be heard and felt.
If this invitation to “Breathe in experience, Breathe out poetry” stirs your senses, too, grab your journal and allow the breathings of your heart to flow. I’ll meet you there in a space of allowing.
With love and sunflower stickers for your journal, Nancy