Category Archives: Health

8 years and a lifetime

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

It is rare to ever feel that you have triumphed in life. That is how I feel—triumphant and profoundly grateful.  I made something real.  It was just a wisp of an idea which came on a wind, a small spark that became a fire in me. The work of 8 years and a lifetime went into Eating the Heart First.

I had a baby when I was 15. He was born premature.   Adam’s life is a long story that I cannot tell here. What I can relate is that after a life lived beyond the doctors’ predictions, a life of joy and pain, Adam passed away in 2004. When Adam died, I made a conscious decision to honor his memory by committing myself to The Writing Life. Because the focus we had given to Adam’s care was suddenly not necessary any more I thought, “Beyond what I need to give to and be for my family what can I do for myself?” I needed to write to feel as though I was not giving up on a long held dream. I also made the promise to my daughter, who needs me to succeed; she needs me to set an example for her so that when she dreams she will believe that she can make her dreams real too.

I choose to live without regret. To live without regret we must follow our better instincts which lead us to the Good. The first task was to read, read, read and write, write, write with the focus that I would get better and better and better. I got out of bed to write. I wrote while driving the car. I wrote my dreams and memories. I wrote what I believed was in the heads of strangers. I sought out other writers to be a part of a community and began submitting my work.

I took on my Writing Life as though it was a business. Being a poet was my job. I had a professional background in public relations, marketing and sales. I decided these skills would be necessary to have any success at writing. 

In the 8 years since Adam’s death, sixty poems of mine have been published.  I have read publicly about twenty times. I am a Teaching Artist with the Acadiana Center for the Arts. I just founded the “Voices” reading series and I have a forthcoming book.

Writing has saved my life many times. Creating this book gave me not only the satisfaction of making something beautiful and lasting but marks a true high point in my way of living.  I will spare you the clinical details, but I have struggled for decades to be well, to recover from bad breakdowns that left years in ruins.

Being able to claw myself back to a real and rewarding life is thankfully possible because I have good caregivers, a strong family and wonderful friends.  I have not beaten the disease but I have beaten it back–

The making of the book (the writing of it) has come to completion and is outside of me now.  So much energy is freed. I will get behind the book when it is published in the fall in every way I can. I am looking forward to the new challenges that selling a book will present.

Eating the Heart First, my debut poetry collection, is slated for a fall 2012 release as a Tom Lombardo Selection from Press 53. You will be hearing much more about it. I must self-promote because I want to move you with my poetry. 

I invite you to read me here. And do keep your eye on this site for news of new adventures in my Writing Life, readings and new publications and such.  Thank you.  

“Come, come, be transformed. “

Two Dreams of The White Horse (2005)

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

May 10, 2005

I dreamed of the White Horse again last night. In this new dream I was its master. On my command it leaped high fences topped with barbwire and lay still without breathing in tall grass to escape detection of the mafioso hunting me. When I’d fled the murderers, I strode into the house of The Don and walked directly to him. He was a thin, old man in loose clothing without a single gray hair. I whispered in his ear. The breathless hitmen falling over themselves to reach me were told: “Leave this woman alone.”

The dream that follows is the one I had February 5, 2005, which was my introduction to the symbol of the White Horse. I think this first dream of the White Horse could have been the awareness I had been chasing illusions and this second dream indicated I’d reached some mastery over my life.

Chasing the White Horse –Dream of 2/5/05

I had a psychotic break and was out of my mind for a year or many years. The years were black pages. I had to be placed in a secluded, secret house and attended by several plain-clothes, patronizing nurses. My husband divorced me and remarried a beautiful blond woman. My daughter simply forgot me. My ex had more children with the woman. I saw him and he was indifferent toward me. He said now, with the new wife, he knew what love really was and that the sex with his new beautiful wife was fantastic and meaningful. The most significant people in my life were unreachable, despite all of my efforts to remind them who I was and what I believed we meant to each other. I was totally lost and alone. The heart of my life dissolved. My loved ones had “moved on” and I was without direction. I had been fighting my demons only with the hope of returning to my family– but they were by choice through with me.

I wrote a book when I’d recovered my mind and gave the manuscript to the suspicious nurses reluctantly, but with desperate need that they would see that it got published. They smirked and took the manuscript. I escaped on a moonless night and ran barefooted through cold mud and unlocked several wooden gates to freedom.  I had no idea where I was. The place was rural and unfamiliar to me.

I attempted to be guided by constellations but my knowledge of the heavens was vague. I followed a river until I found a city. I entered a boutique that sold books, wind chimes and sterling silver picture frames. When a happy customer spoke to me I was surprised to learn I was famous. Many people had read the book and loved me but I didn’t know them and they meant nothing to me. I was helped my on my journey across America with money, shelter, clothes and food.

I arrived at my parent’s home. There was a wild, white stallion tearing up the lawn. My father held it tenuously by a thin string. The White Horse broke free before I could close the gates. I chased the White Horse. It ran into traffic and caused a calamitous accident but was unharmed. The horse bucked and galloped through my hometown and breezed into a weird pastel colored subdivision that looked like rows of storybook castles. I chased the White Horse into a house with an elaborate checker-pattern inlaid wood spiral staircase that rose into infinite space. I caught glimpses of the horse travelling upwards but it was far away. I was tired of running, so I climbed the staircase on my hands and knees. I became dizzy from looking up. Space tightened. I became disoriented. I couldn’t tell anymore which way was up and which way was down. The stairwell shut around me like a coffin. I woke up confused and hopeless.

Year Eight of The Writing Life Begins

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

SUN RISES IN A NEW YEAR

March 15th, 2004, our family suffered a loss–the death of my son, Adam.  In my grieving, I reflected on my life and his life and thought: “What can I do with my life to honor him?” I had always believed myself a writer but struggled with discipline, leaving many things unlearned and unwritten. I thought back then: “If I can do “this one thing” to the best of my ability and honor (not neglect) my God-given gifts, then such a choice would be the best way I could honor Adam.” 

Adam’s death, although hard to bear, was the catalyst for choosing to follow this life-path with dedication and passion.  I have grown personally and have had numerous wonderful opportunities via The Writing Life.  Dear Adam gave so much and continues to bless…gone from us almost 8 years. He would be 28 this year. Wow.

And although much of my posting on the Internet is self-promotion, I think it is important to share this story and the bountiful blessings I have had in these remarkable eight years. Self-promotion is necessary because I want you to read my creative works.

I want to move you with my poetry.

I have had many struggles—some from which many people could not recover. I have recounted many here in previous postings, if you want to look back.  Right now I am looking forward which I believe is necessary for true healing.

I am grateful to God-Creator-Universal Force for Good-Power of Love or whatever it is that I do believe in for pulling me through, shoring up my confidence and for putting people in my path who have aided me with loving care, support and friendship.

I am excited about 2012. I am a mother of a 16-year-old who is smart and beautiful. She inspires me everyday.  I am married to a loving, strong and honest man.  I couldn’t ask for more, but for me there will be more in 2012—more writing, more reading, more learning and more teaching.  The momentum is with me as I continue my lifework.

I am on a path and I do not allow much to divert me from it.   

 

Thanks for reading. 

~Clare

A Blessing

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

A Good Fire

 ”A Good Fire“

Blessings for all who are in need, and gratitude for the comforts we have and the life given to us.

~Clare

WHITE ROOM

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

The other day I walked into a white room and it was perfection. The wide, wooden floorboards shone. My footfall echoed in soft flip flop-claps. The air hummed coolly. White linen curtains glowed mellow light. I gasped; I felt punched because I recognized something in that clean, sharp room that we do not possess—an order, a becoming that was whole and indelible. (We live in squalor, awash in grief.) Could we be born again? Could we fit into a white, sunlit room of our own? In this room was a laughing wife, snuggling her beautiful son. Her clean-shaven husband entered their white room, kissed his family and sat beside them. There was no hardness between them. I don’t believe your promises anymore— you, who will not build me a white room. How long can I continue to sneak away to motley motels to luxuriate in aloneness, to delineate my own everything? There is someone else. There must be. There must be someone who would build me up bone by bone; fill me with a simple and clear eloquence, and renew me. Such is an interior white room. I am separating myself from myself from myself ad infinitum to find the door to the white room that eludes me and walk through it.

BEING HERE AND NOW

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

BEING HERE AND NOW

I have come here to pray.  I have come here to put thoughts into words, and with words discover meaning.  I have come here to be and sleep alone so that what is not me can come over me, and so that what is essentially me can emerge.

This moment is my absolution—this quiet, this gift of silence that is not silence but a lush response of crickets, wind sifting through trees, waves of soft traffic noises. I never want to come out of this mystical repose. “Save me, save me, save me,” she sings–

RETREAT WRITINGS
July 2011—Casita Azul

The second excerpt from Retreat Writings– I will post brief passages over the next few days.

Hello. My Name is Clare.

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

Hello. My name is Clare.  Welcome (again) to my website.

I purchased the domain http://clarelmartin.com/ today and will be writing here with more frequency. I hope I can count you as a reader.

I will muse upon the writing life, real-life happenings, sleep revelations, waking prophecies, earth, wind, fire—things I am passionate about and the few things I hate with passion.  

Certainly, I will try to keep it interesting and valuable.

Stay tuned…

Peace.  

Clare

Good News!

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

My essay, “The White Crane” has been nominated by the editors at Referential Magazine for the 2011 Best of the Net award.

You can read all of the nominated works here:

2011 Referential Magazine Best of the Net Nominees

Sincere thanks to the editors and readers, and especially to Jessie Carty for her hard work, her support of writers and dedication to her vision to present beautiful and important works to the world.

Everything in its Right Place

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

Earlier this week I went on a solo, self-directed, three-day writing retreat at a guest cottage, Casita Azul, in Grand Coteau, LA.  I rarely have alone time much less extended alone time and I was ready for intensive solitude.

I married at 20 and went straight from my parent’s home to my own with my husband—with no real attempt at setting up my own pad.  In the 22 years of being married I might have spent a combined three or four weeks apart (over one day) from my husband in all those years—two weeklong trips to NYC, one extended weekend in Austin, and maybe a weekend or two in New Orleans when Miriam was alive.  The longest time I was “on my own” was a six-week university-sponsored group trip to Europe in 1986—25 years ago this summer.  I was 17.

There have been some upheavals in my family and a fair bit of chaos since the beginning of the year—major life changes, illness, flared tempers and tears.  It was time to break the negative cycle, just for a bit.  My family fully supported my going on this retreat.  My mom surprised me the day I left with a check to cover the costs. She was really happy for me to have this opportunity and wanted to ease the burden.

I am having “MULTIPLE EPIPHANIES”

RE:

the writing life/my path
womanhood
selfhood
motherhood
wifehood
LIFE

I am celebrating all. 

I packed supplies for two nights/almost three days (food, music, books, laptop, paper, pen, and camera) and “checked out” from my life obligations. I had one rule. It was cool if I called you (like to say goodnight) or text you once or twice but it was not cool for anyone in my family or close circle of friends (who knew what I was doing) to initiate contact with me unless there was an emergency. A text would be less intrusive than a phone call (or an unexpected visit!) and just about everyone was cool about it. I thought that by letting people know I was going on a retreat that rule needn’t have been posted.

“Retreat” kind of seems self-explanatory.

When I first arrived I was able to transport my stuff in the Casita quickly and the first thing I did was to “move in.”  I was ritualistic about it. I put all of the food in the fridge or neatly on the table. I plugged in the computer (there was Internet available but I did not use it) set up my books, popped a CD in the stereo (so cool—great acoustics in the Casita!) unpacked my clothing.  Then I made a plate of cheese and fruit and sat back to slowly take in the place (which is very cute and comfy—I highly recommend a stay there.)  I “acclimated” to the Casita and let my SELF expand into its space.  I might have had one flashing thought that I would be at a loss with all the alone time I would have, but I intended to “do exactly what I felt like doing” without misgivings. Of course I am safe and not a delinquent so nothing bad was going to happen!  I certainly did not trash the place!!  I did dance, write, sing, sleep, eat, drink and write and sleep some more.

I left the laptop in standby mode, that way anytime I felt like writing I could just sit down and write.  I also kept journals handy and pens. I set a timer for 5-10 minutes for each “sit down session” and over the whole time I was on the retreat I produced 21 different burst of free-writing—which I plan to mine for poetry.  I did not set a strict agenda other than to read, write, and be alone, sleep if I needed to, take a country drive, write with pen on paper, eat well and take over the whole bed.  I stuck to that plan.  I thought I might have a good cry but that didn’t happen so I guess I didn’t need to—but if I had that would have been OK!

I listened to music—Radiohead, PJ Harvey, Alison Krauss and Robert Plant, Kate Bush, Keane, Portishead, Joni Mitchell, some mix CDs that flowed into this groove and the particular playlist was really great for my mood.  I also brought a relaxation CD which is hypnosis/guided meditation.

It rained so much—perfect for my mood. I wanted to be as secluded as possible.  Some people go to tops of mountains to have a peak experience.  I went to Grand Coteau, LA, thirty minutes from my home.   A great time was had celebrating my growth as an artist, new realizations of myself as woman-human at mid-life, the surge of confidence I am experiencing, and the many new relationship connections I’ve made which feel very promising.  I took pleasure in all of these things. Most importantly, I was joyful in the spiritual communion with what is Essential with a capital E through which we can all be replenished.

I Am Today

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

I learned today that my creative non-fiction piece “The White Crane” will be featured as the spotlight nonfiction piece at Referential Magazine very soon.  This piece of writing is very special to me. Writing it was a high mark in my recovery from the ravages of untreated bipolar disease. 

I am in recovery.  I always will be. I am not cured of bipolar disease. My illness is being treated with medication and therapy.  But there is a deeper sense of recovery to which I am referring, and to which I am deeply committed. I am recovering from emotional trauma which damaged me and kept me suffering for many years even though the most pronounced symptoms of bipolar were abated.  

The actual writing of “The White Crane” signified closure for me of a dark time in my life that included six or so hospitalizations in mental hospitals, misdiagnosis, turmoil in my family, job losses and loss of so much of my self-worth.  I have been clawing my way back to peace and sanity ever since with the full awareness that I could have another breakdown and another and another.  The disease is just that insidious.  But I am today because of the health care I receive, the love and support of family and friends and because of writing. 

I will say it again:

Each success, no matter how small, in practice of what I love is a lightning strike against the dark. 

I have had high hopes for this piece for many years and I couldn’t be happier with its placement at Referential.  Much thanks to Jessie Carty and Eleanor Bryan for selecting my work and sharing their audience with me.

I will post an announcement when it is published.