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Wired Monk Writers 

1/31/2013

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Looking forward to seeing the writerlies on Tuesday!

Please note that Simon has graciously offered up his pad.

7 pm. as usual. Check in-boxes for directions.


Happy Scribing!
TartanFrog
(aka Dina)


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Tree of Life: A Memory or a Dream?

1/25/2013

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Love this painting I came across on Facebook!

I imagine:


* that those birds chirping & singing from the roots are my parents, my ancestors.



* that from them, from the earth, my vibrant roots sing, with smiles in their voices and hidden wings that make me feel free, even when society tries to stomp on my dreams.


Brought to mind an old Cummings poem. It's as if the words are heart-wide-open capturing my emotions:


[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]
BY E. E. CUMMINGS


i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling)


i fear no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet) i want no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you


here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart


i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)



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What I take from this: 


Society's lures--consumerism, greed, and especially prestige—are powerful magnets that can warp our beliefs about what we truly enjoy. They may cause us to work not on what we love, but on what we wish we loved.


My wish if that more of us will begin to listen to our hearts.

Society may want us to lose touch with our magical (s)elves, but we can choose to open up, lighten up and let go of our egos. Society's lures may thrive when we build up our egos, but its a steep price to pay: The decline of community & culture & creativity & most of all, our passionate hearts.



Have a great weekend all,
May you listen & follow your passions,


TartanFrog,
aka Dina




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Speaking of Micropoetry: The Guru

1/16/2013

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Source: Facebook
January 16, 2013

Today is IdleNoMore's Day of Action

It snowed outside.
The train just whistled by.
In the otherwise muffled quiet I chose as my action, I hear your voices, 
Karl Wendt.



For more than two years, I've been walking around with you in my head, wondering what it means that a poet should die, that I should never have the opportunity to sit across from you at our weekly potlucks, to play bridge with you on Wednesdays, to visit you at that ward in the hospital. 



Do you know how much Andre & I loved you when we first met at BSPS? Jules was interesting, but you were great.  


("The soft you are, you just are." That was my favourite and, as Andre reminded me at the time of your death: I did pull it out quite a lot).  


Another favourite:  
"...like yesterday 
picking up a cigarette butt 
this morning was better 
with cream on the table" 


[You're nodding up there.  I know it.] 


Andre and I typed that one in my South Park apartment and Joe published it in BSPS. Someone dubbed us Halifax' Simone de Beauvoir & Jean Paul Sartre, but we knew better. You were always the genuine article, our guru of poetry & philosophy.


"Oh, you'll be angry" Andre wrote,"Karl didn't demonize me after we broke up, he just tried to pick you up, and I appreciated that about him, too."


That was after the horrific accident and you wrote about my 29-yr-old widowed sister:

"how long will she
put up with her own smile
when she is crying
from every fingertip"

I didn't realize I would miss you so much.  Miss you as a possibility, someone I would just sit down with and talk to some day and you'd deal me a hand like no time had passed.  (You weren't really into time.)
 
Why was a man like you, Karl, born to die? Andre said he felt like a character out of Dickens lamenting that the good part of the world is gone.  I feel that way tonight.

The last poem you read to us at our Sunday potlucks:

who knows what circumstances
beyond the horizons lie
and as the surface blossoms 
on a tree in spring
the questions grow and grow
until we die
and then and only then
the silence we now shout
will be our memory


 
Requiescat in pace,
Your friend,
Dina

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Wired Monk Writers 2013; My 'Stroem' inspired by Miranda July.

1/2/2013

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Looking forward to seeing the writerlies tomorrow!

Our first 2013 gathering (the year of my cat:) is tomorrow at 7 pm. Check in-boxes for details.

While my 3rd novel's characters keep cavorting and hiding behind curtains (acting all obtuse), I'm focusing on my one-page/morning STROEMS (oh so inventive, I know; they're part story-part poem).

MY FIRST REVISION of July Moments in January

Feel free to critique away!!
Btw, I have to update our writing group meeting schedule. Done
 ✓


Happy Scribing!
TartanFrog
(aka Dina)

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    Welcome to my Blog!

    My name is Dina 
    (aka TartanFrog)
    I'm a writer & educator.


    More about me

    More about the book I just finished

    Why blog? Why write?
    My dream: To see all children grow up with dignity, self-esteem and a passion for their dreams.

    I've met many children and adults whose dreams and innocence were stolen. 


    I write for them; I write as one of them.


    I try to blog weekly. 
    Blog topics:
    Writing & publishing-related tips for my writerly friends;
     social justice issues that touch children, adults, trees or threaten our world of future wholesome communities; my experiences navigating the process of living & writing. 

    Spoiler Alert:
    Some days, these may be rants:)

    Why TartanFrog?  
    TartanFrog--a celebratory tip of the hat to the interweaving of my French Acadian roots with the Celtic culture  of Cape Breton. 


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