Writing Our Way to Forgiveness at the Capitola Book Café: Friday mornings in October
We all struggle with how to forgive, and we all have many transgressions to get over! During these workshops, we will use writing practice to inquire as to the nature of forgiveness, and the possibility of achieving forgiveness in our lives. Reflecting on the words of poets such as Thich Nhat Hanh, Rumi, Sharon Olds, and other prestigious authors, we will write our way to the freedom of reconciliation. Drop in on any or all of these writing groups to go deeper in your writing and in your life.
Workshops will be held on Friday mornings: October 7, 14, 21, and 28, from 9:30–11:00 a.m. Cost is $15.00 per workshop ($10 to Magdalena and $5 to Book Café). Please register at front desk prior to the workshop.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Finding the Poet Within
At the Watsonville Community Hospital’s Senior Circle room from 2-4:00 p.m.
It’s free and fun…and you will leave with a new poem! For those who are fifty years of age or better...
Location: 75 Nielson Street, Watsonville. From Santa Cruz, take Highway 1 south to Airport Blvd.
It’s free and fun…and you will leave with a new poem! For those who are fifty years of age or better...
Location: 75 Nielson Street, Watsonville. From Santa Cruz, take Highway 1 south to Airport Blvd.
Community Poetry Circle
Saturday, October 1, Santa Cruz Public Library, downtown, central branch, from 10:00-12:00 noon in the small conference room downstairs…FREE!
Libraries!
A letter to the editor I wrote...don't know if it will be published...wanted to share it here:
I’m writing in response to a letter to the editor in the Sunday, September 18 edition of the Santa Cruz Sentinel. I would like to answer the question for the individual who asks, “Is it necessary to have so many library branches?” The author of that letter cites fiscal concerns for closing libraries — giving the example of potential duplication of services as a reason.
First of all, I would point out that a library is not just a physical structure for housing books and other printed materials. Today, more than ever, a library is a boon (and a blessing) for any community, regardless of the size of its population.
One of the crucial reasons for the existence of a library is to serve as a way to bring communities together. Libraries offer services such as classes for seniors, storytime for tots, poetry writing for all ages, tax forms and preparation — to name a few — usually at no cost to patrons. And in this increasingly technological age, a local library helps to bridge the digital divide by providing those without personal computers access to the Internet.
Further, libraries are a safe place for children. After school they can head to the local library to do homework or just read. I remember well, as a child, the excitement of discovery that going to the local library held; the freedom to explore ideas, uncensored. I still remember getting my first library card.
I’ll repeat: libraries bring communities together. And a strong community is perhaps one of the most important foundations for a safe and sane society. Certainly it is obvious that libraries support the education of minds of all ages. And an educated populace is surely an investment we must make.
I’m writing in response to a letter to the editor in the Sunday, September 18 edition of the Santa Cruz Sentinel. I would like to answer the question for the individual who asks, “Is it necessary to have so many library branches?” The author of that letter cites fiscal concerns for closing libraries — giving the example of potential duplication of services as a reason.
First of all, I would point out that a library is not just a physical structure for housing books and other printed materials. Today, more than ever, a library is a boon (and a blessing) for any community, regardless of the size of its population.
One of the crucial reasons for the existence of a library is to serve as a way to bring communities together. Libraries offer services such as classes for seniors, storytime for tots, poetry writing for all ages, tax forms and preparation — to name a few — usually at no cost to patrons. And in this increasingly technological age, a local library helps to bridge the digital divide by providing those without personal computers access to the Internet.
Further, libraries are a safe place for children. After school they can head to the local library to do homework or just read. I remember well, as a child, the excitement of discovery that going to the local library held; the freedom to explore ideas, uncensored. I still remember getting my first library card.
I’ll repeat: libraries bring communities together. And a strong community is perhaps one of the most important foundations for a safe and sane society. Certainly it is obvious that libraries support the education of minds of all ages. And an educated populace is surely an investment we must make.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Poetry, Courting the Muse, and the Power of the Circle
What is the mysterious process by which one writes a poem? As we write, how do we uncover what is true, chipping away at all the other voices that may seem authentic, but might not be? It takes a certain amount of courage to believe that what we have to say is important. Perhaps we might need some support with this.
One of the strategies that I have discovered in my writing career is the power of writing with others. It seems illogical, but the best poems have usually come as I sit beside another individual (sometimes this is someone I consider a friend, oftentimes a stranger) in a circle, with others across from me… and the only sounds are the breathing in and out, and the stroking of pens on paper.
In thinking about the circle, Jung’s mandala comes to mind. Representing the wholeness of the Self, the mandala is a cosmic diagram reminding us of our relationship to the infinite, a plane that includes both our bodies and minds and what is beyond our physicality. The mandala describes both material and nonmaterial realities— the celestial circles of the earth, sun, and moon, as well as abstract circles of friends, family, and community.
So it is in this community, that full expression of our selves can be given. But in entrusting our words to others, care must be taken. That is why it’s necessary for a skilled facilitator to create a sacred space. As an experienced poetry teacher, I believe in the innate truth that each individual holds. And I believe that every time anyone sits down to write a poem we are all absolute beginners (what Zen practitioners call “beginner’s mind”) while at the same time we are an amalgamation of all that we have lived.
There is a palpable feeling of safety and comfort in the circle; we are all equal to the task of writing, and everyone is free to tell their story. This makes it easy and fun, as well as poignant and profound. Still a mystery — but the muse has come, once again, the poems are written.
It is said by Tibetan Buddhists that a mandala consists of five "excellencies" —the teacher, the message the audience, the site, and the time. The writing circle contains each of these elements and is always an inspiring and affirming event.
One of the strategies that I have discovered in my writing career is the power of writing with others. It seems illogical, but the best poems have usually come as I sit beside another individual (sometimes this is someone I consider a friend, oftentimes a stranger) in a circle, with others across from me… and the only sounds are the breathing in and out, and the stroking of pens on paper.
In thinking about the circle, Jung’s mandala comes to mind. Representing the wholeness of the Self, the mandala is a cosmic diagram reminding us of our relationship to the infinite, a plane that includes both our bodies and minds and what is beyond our physicality. The mandala describes both material and nonmaterial realities— the celestial circles of the earth, sun, and moon, as well as abstract circles of friends, family, and community.
So it is in this community, that full expression of our selves can be given. But in entrusting our words to others, care must be taken. That is why it’s necessary for a skilled facilitator to create a sacred space. As an experienced poetry teacher, I believe in the innate truth that each individual holds. And I believe that every time anyone sits down to write a poem we are all absolute beginners (what Zen practitioners call “beginner’s mind”) while at the same time we are an amalgamation of all that we have lived.
There is a palpable feeling of safety and comfort in the circle; we are all equal to the task of writing, and everyone is free to tell their story. This makes it easy and fun, as well as poignant and profound. Still a mystery — but the muse has come, once again, the poems are written.
It is said by Tibetan Buddhists that a mandala consists of five "excellencies" —the teacher, the message the audience, the site, and the time. The writing circle contains each of these elements and is always an inspiring and affirming event.
Capitola Writing Group
Join the Magdalena's Muse Writing Group at the Capitola Book Café on Friday, September 23 from 7-9 p.m. We'll write new works in a supportive and creative environment. This on-going group welcomes newcomers and drop-ins. All levels and ages are encouraged. Call Magdalena at 831-252- 5776 for more information or e-mail her at magdarose@hughes.net.
Cost: $5 to Capitola Book Café and $5 to Magdalena to participate, please.
Cost: $5 to Capitola Book Café and $5 to Magdalena to participate, please.
Poetry at Santa Cruz Art League
The Art League is starting a new poetry series on the 3rd Wednesday of every month, starting Wednesday, September 21 in the Art League Theater. It's called Sparring With Beatnik Ghosts, hosted by Editor Daniel Yaryan. There will be 6 featured (published) poets each night, followed by an Open Mic (sign up at 6:30pm) There is a $5 donation to pay for the poetry anthology in which these poets will be published. The Gallery will be open, there will be wine (more donations), and a great time will be had by all.
526 Broadway,Santa Cruz.
Website:
http://www.scal.org/
526 Broadway,Santa Cruz.
Website:
http://www.scal.org/
Slope by Jerilyn Kass
Slope
Your sloped shoulders
Are the long ride down
I took starting at fourteen
Longing to take a ride of my own making
But not knowing it until I saw those slopy cliffs
Off which my descent would last and last
Your love was a ride down a road
Bumpy from the potholes which shook my brain
It took me to another land
Where the language was strange
The rules so incomprehensible
They engulfed me
And when I came back home for visits
My first language had become unfamiliar
I could not even look at my own family
For the shutters over my eyes
Blocked their sunlight from my broken windows
The doors I’d opened to my own humiliation
Closed those to real love
The way I’d given myself away
Was too much a secret
To share with my old familiars
I was the paper you ripped
But I gave you my fibers
How do you tell your mother where you’ve been
When you have no idea yourself
When there are no words because you don’t yet speak this new language
And there are no tears because you’re still dizzy from the spinning
And there are no hugs because the fine spray of paper fibers,
Which were once a smooth sheet of parchment
On which to scribe life’s joys and mysteries and pain,
Might seem to bridge the distance between my familiars and me
But really crash like trucks into my chest
I see you but I can’t reach you
I hate you but I need you
I miss you now like I’ve missed you my whole life
This is a child’s pain
But I am still a child
Even though I’m forty-six
And your memory is waning
You are my mother
And I’ve needed you
In a way I could never have you
And you’ve needed me
In a way I couldn’t give
And here we stand
A country apart
Each in our longing
What have we not said?
Will those words pass our lips
Before you pass?
I hold the burden
Of ruining our family
There were secrets before mine
Pains cradled like a child born but not revealed
Mine wasn’t the first
But its effects still linger
Linger finger finger me for blame lame leg shoot me dead
Dead head the flowers so new blue true ones will grow grown groan grow
Up would you grow up already steady now don’t ruin it
Ruin ruin rue in true in truant where are you where did you go
What is true in being truant what to rue
Should I rue what is true
Truth in ruin
Truth in ruin
What is ruin anyway
But the cracking open of a foundation
Weak with hidden portraits of grief and glory
Unfulfilled dreams and unanswered prayers
What is ruin
But our bedeviled skin
Turned to mounds of ash
That, in turn, hide the jewelled heart
Your sloped shoulders
Are the long ride down
I took starting at fourteen
Longing to take a ride of my own making
But not knowing it until I saw those slopy cliffs
Off which my descent would last and last
Your love was a ride down a road
Bumpy from the potholes which shook my brain
It took me to another land
Where the language was strange
The rules so incomprehensible
They engulfed me
And when I came back home for visits
My first language had become unfamiliar
I could not even look at my own family
For the shutters over my eyes
Blocked their sunlight from my broken windows
The doors I’d opened to my own humiliation
Closed those to real love
The way I’d given myself away
Was too much a secret
To share with my old familiars
I was the paper you ripped
But I gave you my fibers
How do you tell your mother where you’ve been
When you have no idea yourself
When there are no words because you don’t yet speak this new language
And there are no tears because you’re still dizzy from the spinning
And there are no hugs because the fine spray of paper fibers,
Which were once a smooth sheet of parchment
On which to scribe life’s joys and mysteries and pain,
Might seem to bridge the distance between my familiars and me
But really crash like trucks into my chest
I see you but I can’t reach you
I hate you but I need you
I miss you now like I’ve missed you my whole life
This is a child’s pain
But I am still a child
Even though I’m forty-six
And your memory is waning
You are my mother
And I’ve needed you
In a way I could never have you
And you’ve needed me
In a way I couldn’t give
And here we stand
A country apart
Each in our longing
What have we not said?
Will those words pass our lips
Before you pass?
I hold the burden
Of ruining our family
There were secrets before mine
Pains cradled like a child born but not revealed
Mine wasn’t the first
But its effects still linger
Linger finger finger me for blame lame leg shoot me dead
Dead head the flowers so new blue true ones will grow grown groan grow
Up would you grow up already steady now don’t ruin it
Ruin ruin rue in true in truant where are you where did you go
What is true in being truant what to rue
Should I rue what is true
Truth in ruin
Truth in ruin
What is ruin anyway
But the cracking open of a foundation
Weak with hidden portraits of grief and glory
Unfulfilled dreams and unanswered prayers
What is ruin
But our bedeviled skin
Turned to mounds of ash
That, in turn, hide the jewelled heart
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Community Poetry Circle
Community Poetry Circle. Free! In the circle we’ll write new works in a supportive and fun environment. All levels and ages are encouraged. Saturday, September 17, 10 am to 12 noon at the central branch of the Santa Cruz Public Library, 224 Church St., downtown Santa Cruz, in the small meeting room, downstairs (behind the reference desk)...See you there!
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Sharon Olds
Here's a lovely interview with Sharon Olds on poets.org:
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21435
I particularly like how she mentions Curious George...must be my daughter's influence...and stickers too!
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21435
I particularly like how she mentions Curious George...must be my daughter's influence...and stickers too!
Friday, September 2, 2011
Poetry at Watsonville Community Hospital
Finding the Poet Within at the Watsonville Community Hospital, 75 Nielson Street, Watsonville (part of the Senior Circle classes). Tuesday, September 6, from 2 to 4 pm. Free!
If you are fifty years of age or better, or know someone who fits this description and would like to write poetry in a safe and supportive environment, please forward this information along!
And I know, “hospital” might sound like a cold and sterile place to write poetry…not so! If you haven’t attended one of these classes yet, you will be pleasantly surprised… the room is really quite beautiful…with a lovely painted mural that covers an entire wall, plush carpet, and cozy couch!
If you are fifty years of age or better, or know someone who fits this description and would like to write poetry in a safe and supportive environment, please forward this information along!
And I know, “hospital” might sound like a cold and sterile place to write poetry…not so! If you haven’t attended one of these classes yet, you will be pleasantly surprised… the room is really quite beautiful…with a lovely painted mural that covers an entire wall, plush carpet, and cozy couch!
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