Got this great close-up of a Common Aerial Yellowjacket Wasp yesterday
Each day of my youth on those crisp cold winter nights
I could see each star, all the stars afforded the place
Where I grew up; a gift of living in the north
While walking home from the store; finished with
My noisy spaceship fantasies imaginings banged out
On computers encased in wooden boxes to which
I would feed quarters. There was the big dipper
I was blind to Mars and Venus, Jupiter; even my own
Sign; not the dawning of Aquarius but Saggitarius
The big dipper was the only constellation I knew
I almost saw it as one thing, not stars as far from each
Other as they were from me.
Often on those days the dancing sheets of light
Would come to amaze amuse astound
It was only one block home but in a young boy’s mind
It was a billion light years travel time
And everything seemed so real, so much more alive
In the insignificance of my own existence
Stars by the millions light travelling over eons and decades
Some gone before I was even born so I could
Catch their light at the precise moment it reached Earth
I wonder then as I wonder now
How so many celestial bodies could exist
Just far enough away to barely see them
And not see them in the day
Night was my time then as it is now
This poem my guide into darkness
May 10, 2016
Hello and good morning to all those who like to follow this blog. I had the most amazing experience today. I went to teach my Monday creative writing class, and I felt an incredible connection to the adults with mental health issues I was working with at the mental health club where the class takes place. There was one young man who is brilliant in many ways and always participates in exercises. He also has a great reading voice. The sad part is that he lives with a diagnosis of schizophrenia, and it has been a huge barrier to living for him. He told me that he wished the class would go on permanently every Monday not end in a few weeks. There is a woman in the class who is a bit shy though very mature who didn’t think she could ever write anything worthwhile and in the first class I taught we had a mini poetry competition, and her poetry won. She has been coming ever since and today brought three pages of beautiful rhyming poems to show me. The class went incredibly well; I felt like I was really in command of the subject and that we were doing something that benefitted all of us. It made me want to call my sister who has a Master’s in Education and teaches in Toronto and attempt to describe to her how great teaching makes me feel, but I think she understands.
Things seem to be happening so fast lately. In just a few more weeks I will be on a plane to London, England. Next week I will be working on the setup of an outdoor Beyonce concert to pay for my trip and then there is something that I am stressing over a bit, I am going to head to a Junior High School and lead a poetry workshop. I think I have prepared enough to handle the event, but still I feel a bit nervous. I have been doing so many public talks and teaching jobs that it really shouldn’t be a problem, I think I will even have fun with it. I am conscious though of the possibility that I am taking on too much at once. It really is getting hard to sleep. Today I got my bus pass and London map in the mail. At 11:30 pm I got out of bed just to google the Hostel I will be staying in to see if they have lockers. I think though, that all I really have to do is act like Santa Claus for anything that stresses me like classes or trips or anything. Make a list, and check it twice. Then do something I learned from the wealthy people in my hometown. If there is any kind of a problem, just make sure and throw money at it and make damn sure you have enough.
Aside from all that, I did do something that I think was really helpful. I needed to get a few things, and I have been thinking a lot about how ripped off people are when they live in inner city areas and need to buy their things at private drug stores, cash their cheques at rip-off finance outfits, and buy their food at convenience stores. It can be really expensive to be poor in this world. So I elected to hop on the bus which I knew would take an hour to get to the discount stores and just brought a book. It was one I bought some time ago that I had put down but not because I didn’t enjoy it. It is a book about Buddhism called “Wherever You Go, There You Are” and it was such a nice feeling to get away from all distractions and just sit on the bus, the blocks rolling past as I enjoyed looking at my own thoughts and actions from a different perspective. Reading really is such an amazing, healing process. Writing isn’t far behind.