Giraffe

As a girl growing up in San Francisco, an occasional treat was a visit to the San Francisco Zoo.  While I don’t support animals in captivity, I have to admit that while a child, it was an opportunity to see an animal up close that I might otherwise never see.  I remember the giraffe, tall, lanky, that neck that was so long, seemingly fragile yet strong.  I have an image of the giraffe, splayed legs as he stooped to pick up a piece of fruit on the ground.

The giraffe has a very large heart, larger than any other land mammal.  The biological reason could be due to the lengthy map of a giraffe’s body.  I know so little.  However, I have read that the giraffe, though not sanctioned as such, is an endangered species.  This saddens me.

In the wild, a giraffe can live for 25 years.  In captivity, it varies.

giraffe

 

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I honestly don’t know why this giraffe is blue.  Perhaps that was the color on my brush at the time and I didn’t want to waste it.  So onto the canvas
it went.  What frequently happens is that I see an image in a work in progress, in this case the giraffe, and I bring it forward.  I create a background for it.

Though not realistic, this giraffe certainly has personality.

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In a sense, with this sheltering at home, we have an odd opportunity.  We are experiencing a time that seems outside of time.  For those of who are blessed to have enough and to have our health, we have this sort of break where we can engage our imagination.  How could things be different?  How could things be better?  We are so yearning to return to “normal” whatever that means to you.  Really, was normal so great?  What about our lives and times could be reimagined?  What could be made better?  Not only for some of us, but for all of us?

I read that the Navajo Tribes are facing life and death challenges with the Covid 19 virus.  Most of these people don’t have running water and we know that washing your hands, cleanliness is crucial to preventing the spread of the virus.  I’ve read that the federal government has allotted some monies to help them but the Tribe can’t access the monies due to bureaucracy.  Really!  In a time of emergency direct assistance is blocked!

Can we imagine this scenario a lot better?  Shouldn’t every household in the US have running water, at the very least?

On the altruistic side, 21 medical personnel from UCSF in San Francisco have traveled to the Navajo Nations to give medical support  through its Department of Medicine’s Health, Equity, Action and Leadership initiative.  Doctors, nurses and other health care workers in the two-year fellowship assist with health care needs in rural and disadvantaged communities around the world.  Thank you.

Alright, I step off the soapbox (for now)…but this has brought up something I feel passionate about.  What are you feeling passionate about as you shelter in place?  How can you reimagine it better?

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A sweet video clip of this beautiful animal.

Getting to the “REAL POEM”

Last year, I decided to write a poem about having a tooth pulled.  My first tooth extraction ever had been scheduled.  I was resistant and working hard at de-stressing.  I wanted to arrive at a place of resolution and peaceful acceptance.  I wasn’t close.

“Why not write a poem about it?” I thought.  So I set myself up on the back porch, a cold yet sunny landscape stared back through the sliding glass door.  Beauty.  I write.  It’s not long before I realized that it’s going to take some time for me to get to the real poem behind these first words.  It’s good that I’m getting things down on paper.

The Gap
© by Christine O’Brien

Do I have a tooth to spare?
A sacrificial tooth–
could it be an offering?
In service to what?
This tooth, 2nd molar, upper left
staunch beside my wisdom tooth
once gone–makes a space–a gap–
reminders of losses that must be grieved
perhaps healed, but always missed.

The pink cow stares at me from the
painting below the window
on the south-facing back porch.
I want to be brave
I have been brave
I remind others to be brave
I am brave.

But I need something.  What?
Does anyone ever release a tooth,
gladly?  Not likely.
To keep all of my teeth in my mouth
intact has been a desire, a hope, a goal,
an impossible dream.
Another vanishing dream.
Bye, bye tooth.

Once pulled,
I’m going to keep it.
A shrine.
In it’s place,
plant a spirit tooth.
What is the language of tooth?
Does it have a message for me?
Louise Hays had
complementary analogies
(or is it metaphors)
for physical conditions
throughout the body.

Tooth SPEAK!  Upper,
beside the wisdom tooth,
hard-working,
yet a little less wise, perhaps.
Better if it had been the last tooth
on top–now a gap.

Tooth SPEAK!  What do you have to say?
“How taken for granted I’ve felt.
All these years of devoted service.
Clenched jaw, biting nails, kissing
careless men with poor dental hygiene
(not too many).  Chewing, grinding, nuts and seeds–
the tougher jobs
reserved for the back teeth.
I’ve been a reliable little soldier…”

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See, you can write a poem about anything.  Of course, this is a work in progress.  Or is it?
I can’t count how many poems I’ve written to help me through a challenging time.
Have you turned to poetry to express such things?  I recommend it.

 

Choices–When Two Roads Diverge…

It’s been my experience that whatever I’m working on, including this blog, the universe is supplying continual content.  When I’m in that flow with my writing and I come up against a choice…that Robert Frost dilemma of “two roads diverged in a yellow wood and sorry I could not travel both…”  I can either figuratively pound my head trying to choose one over the other OR walk away and let the answer drift to me over the course of the day…or week or as long as it takes.  That’s being in the flow even when you’re away from your writing desk or artist easel. Sometimes, a whole other choice presents itself.

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Example.  When I’m crafting a creative writing workshop and I feel at at a loss about how to proceed, I go out in the world. I might go to Barnes and Noble. Sometimes,  a line leaps out at me from a book cover or as I randomly flip through the pages.  Or, I might be sipping tea in a cafe and overhear something spoken that is precisely what I need to hear to move my work forward.  Often, the next step inwardly presents itself to me as I walk beside the lake.  Ah, the surprising synchronicity of it all!

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The other day, standing in line at the local health food store, a bedraggled young woman stood opposite me in another line.  I had passed her, her partner and child earlier in the summer-crowded store.  Their odor was ripe. Later on, seeing her in the line across the way, she dropped the left flap of her dress exposing a flat tanned breast.  Her child, its arms and legs wrapped around her like-a-monkey-it’s-mother, latched onto the nipple and began to nurse.  The child was skinny, around two years old, hair matted, dirty and sad-faced, seemingly timid. The mother’s eyes had a vacant quality and it seemed likely that her breast was milkless, only for the child’s comfort in a strange place.

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I chose to include an unpolished rendition of this experience in today’s blog because when we witness something notable, we might not find a use for it in what we’re currently writing.  However, I suggest writing it down while it’s fresh in your mind. Then file it. You might find this recorded & filed memory useful at some future date.

We live in an abundant universe which continuously supplies prompts and content. How open are we to receiving them?

WRITING PROMPT:
What bit of inspiration crossed your path over this past day or week?  Was there something heard, smelled or seen (or tasted or touched) that could be used in what you are working on today?  Regardless of whether or not it is useful to what you are currently writing, do write it down in descriptive detail.

Writing down an experience is not a wasted effort–it’s practice.