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Category Archives: Health
Quietude
It’s been a hectic summer. We have just a couple of weeks left before school starts again. My daughter is going to be a high school freshman! There will be so many changes for her. We are excited but also wish summer would last a little longer. In the meantime I am seeking quietude.
Because of busy days and the fact that I am sleeping well at night I haven’t been writing daily or even weekly. I have been revising and submitting work, but I am just beginning to refocus my efforts to produce new writing. Now I’m challenging myself with exercises and so far have produced three new poems in the past few days.
Tonight I made curried lentil and spinach soup. It was super delicious! I absolutely love and crave soup daily—which is why I will soon begin a blog called One Hundred Days of Soup. I’ll keep you posted.
Six Months In
So far in 2010–six months in–I have had nine poems published and three have been accepted and will soon appear in magazines. I am thrilled to bits about this. I was updating my C.V. with the new acceptances and noted that 49 pieces of my creative writing have been (or will be) published. Most of them have been published since 2004.
In 2004, my son died.
When Adam died, I promised myself that I would live my life as a writer; that I would write purposefully and professionally for the rest of my life, God-willing. I have lived the writing life each day since. I embrace my role as writer, along with my roles as wife and mother, proudly and with serious intent. I always start out my “bio” with the phrase:
Clare is a poet/mother/wife…whatever.
I am these things at my very center. I move outwardly from ‘that place’ in my heart—
I can also share that I have bipolar disease. I have struggled for most of my adult life with its symptoms. I have had serious breakdowns and lost so much but I have been very blessed to have a doctor who saved me with careful attention and astute clinical sense which he used in my treatment.
I have been in recovery since 2000. That means I am moving forward but the disease never leaves. It is always at my back. It is deadly–but thankfully I have been able to care for myself and my family somewhat steadily for a long period. I learned the hard way how to sense the oncoming symptoms. I have the strong support of family, friends and a treatment team of doctors.
I am in recovery.
I am recovering.
I am.
If you would like to read the poems that have been published on the Internet so far in 2010 please click the links below.
“White Bull, Black Road” Scythe, Vol. II, 2010
“The Woman You Married” Scythe, Vol. II, 2010
“Little Poem at Pink Moon” Scythe, Vol. II, 2010
“Memento Mori” THE RED ROOM: Writings from Press 1, anthology, 2010
“Mute” Blue Fifth Review, blue collection 1, anthology series, 2010
“Winter Brought Out All the Knives” Melusine, 2.2 Spring/Summer 2010
“Birthing” Avatar Review, Issue 12, Summer 2010
“Make a New Garden” Avatar Review, Issue 12, Summer 2010
“The Never That Was” Avatar Review, Issue 12, Summer 2010
“Father Almost Drowning” Poets & Artists, forthcoming 2010
“Open Me with a Fire of Words” Wild Goose Poetry Review forthcoming 2010
“Premature” Literary Mama, forthcoming 2010
Hmm…
What else am I to do but love?
a little bit of festival & facing truth (again)
During my brief time at Festival International de Louisiane 2010 I saw in the crowd people who were familiar to me but I could not remember under what circumstances I had encountered them before. Perhaps I dreamed them. It was uncanny. There were at least five who were in very close proximity to me who stood out as people that I should know. And then I saw the orthopedic surgeon who operated on my fractured toes. He was with his family moving away from me further into the sea of people. I wanted to fly over the fast-moving, swinging bodies to reach him to shout: “Thank you for saving my poor mangled foot!” I wanted to catch his gaze and just say “Hello, miracle-worker!” with my eyes.
I sat on the steps of the Federal Courthouse which was very near where the TV5Monde Stage was set up. The two women sitting next to me were wearing matching rings on their left hands. I also saw two men kiss on the lips. It made me happy to see love in the open. There was something symbolic too I think in that we were surrounded by same-sex couples on the Federal Courthouse steps. I hope that is a good omen for future strides in the movement for equal rights.
The rising moon was three quarters full. The sky was blue glass-bright and cloudless. Earlier, rain had been predicted. In fact in other southern states there were terrible tornadoes! The weather couldn’t have been better for Festival—it was not too hot, breezy, and cool in shady spots.
The music sent me deeper into myself. I tried to connect with my friends through texts but we were scattered about the downtown area at different performance stages. My fear of crowds abated for a time. No one raged around me. I had my husband with me which always makes me feel secure.
I did not want to leave our spot. I could have sat on the courthouse steps until the music ended and the people streamed back to their ordinary lives beyond this wonderful creative celebration of Francophone and world cultures that are mixed so wonderfully in Louisiana. A world explodes into being in this microcosm made of music, art, food (and drink) film, visual arts, performance arts, spoken word, etc. Such is Festival International de Louisiane.
Arriving at the festival I was energized but leaving I had to stop walking after short distances to take a break and catch my breath. I am terribly out of shape. My husband noted this when we got home. He said it kindly but it still hurt to hear this truth. What have I done to myself? What grief am I holding in my body? Plainly, why do I overeat and live a sedentary life? I gained a great deal of weight and lost muscle when I broke my foot in January of 2009. And after I was rehabilitated I made several half-starts and full-on attempts at changing my behaviors to lose weight. I was diagnosed with high blood pressure a few months ago and while that is under control I know I am stressing my body— my heart and my knees especially by carrying this excess weight. My family is concerned about me and about their own health issues. I want all of us to get healthier.
I cannot continue in this unworkable way of life any longer.
I have a page in this art project.
enigmatic orphan
straightjacket my heart
Haiti
My prayers and thoughts for healing the suffering of your people go out to you…I have and will continue to give what I can.
My prayers, too, are for all who are suffering in mind and body.
Text HAITI to 90999 to donate $10 on behalf of the American Red Cross. — Text YELE to 501501 to donate $5 on behalf of The Yele Haiti Foundation.
The Year of the Clare
This is my year. My year to address my Number One Issue. My year to do it for myself and my family. The Year of the Clare.
Living Truer To My Self
OFFICIAL BLOG RENEWAL POST002-1015
In 2004 the death of my beloved child prompted me to look deeply at my life and how I could live truer to my self from the point of Adam’s death onward. What meant the most to me beyond my own and my family’s health and well-being was to be the writer I was born to be. I dedicated to Adam my pursuit of writing with impassioned effort. I began to write daily, reverently and passionately. My commitment to write everyday was charged with the notion of being my true self, doing rather than thinking or talking about being a writer.
I approached my ambitions with professionalism and perseverance. In the past I worked in sales and marketing, and in public relations. I thought to bring these skills to my writing career as I sent my work to potential publishers. When I went to “poetry socials” I carried a leather portfolio (nerd-alert) which contained my poems. I sought out other writers on the local scene and made a few tight connections. I pressed forward to create opportunities for myself to share my work publicly in many forums. The embrace of my writer-self was wholehearted.
When writing, my creative energy was manic, but reigned in and tempered by my determination to make a successful go at creating a body of publishable work, as well. I produced mass quantities of poems, half-eaten scraps and some whole, worthy efforts. Many pieces are laughably juvenile but I persisted and did not perceive these efforts as failures. I held the belief and still do that I am learning a skill and improvement is desired and necessary. I truly believe I will get better and better with deep sustained effort.
As much as a desire to develop professionally is the motivation to deepen as a human being that drives me to write. I am carving a path outwardly and going deeper into myself, which is the true reward of being an artist. Artistic growth is highly desired. As I live superficially I often disconnect from my self and do not acknowledge the inner worlds. Writing out my life (in quasi-confessional poems) has given me the tools to cut through the dross and release the voice within. I defy labels which would classify what type of poetry I write. I write free verse, but some forms. I firmly believe that all of my writing is experiment, but not necessarily experimental.
In the five years that have passed since I began on the path of living a writing life, I have had remarkable experiences and successes, and have been blessed with rewarding and nurturing friendships with likeminded writers. I am on a path and I do not allow much of anything to divert me from it. I have chosen to step off for a time here and there but the groove is well worn. I’ve heard it said that if a writer is not writing, they are writing in their head. It could be true, but I hold myself to the principle that if I am not writing down what’s in my head, I am not writing.
