Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Page 3~ While Playing Around

In case you just tuned in?
I am in search of words,
ones that will hit the page perfectly,
as if they we were just waiting
for me to lay out the paper...
for them to land on!
So far it's not happening sitting at a table
with the right clothes on......
and perfect cup of coffee!

SO...I decide to...!

Get Out! In the world,
Away from the desk,
and the uninspiring outfits,
the rabbit invasion outside the window,
where the dog will be happy
and see what the desert has to say!

With new running shoes on,
I head to the lakes edge.
In Rikii MuZe's world,
it's the Whacka Whee River.
(Try saying that over and over really fast!)
Across the Bridge to When,
to the Island of What If.

It had been suggested early on
that Rikii and company would
live somewhere like Lake Havasu City.
Because from their very first visit,
John and Lee, while having lunch next
to the famous London Bridge,
(They are from England, remember?)
They felt it was a unique and wacky place.
This desert paradise on a large river
in the middle of nowhere.
I loved it... and the name Myz Tikkle Town
was scripted to the paper doorways.

This island is where I come for exercise
and inspiration.
My wide open playground of possibilities
outlined in a fringe of liquid indigo.

Running, my long time form
of moving mediation.
I wind my way along
the dips and inclines of the landscape,
and breath it in, drink it even.
All of it.
The barren beauty, the winter light,
so different than the summer kind!
High contrasts of shadow play.
The lake (or River) reflecting color
as deep as an ocean's hues,
brilliantly frigid looking
in it's Brrrrr Blue.

Oh, just a note, I DID leave
the fleece pants behind!
Phew! (see prior post)

There is no defined path here,
just edges that fall away,
trailed mini mountains that invite you
into their valleys
only to make you climb straight up again
on the other end!
Sometimes I take these,
sometimes I don't.
The terrain's, ever changing
and unfamiliar.
Like life, I suppose.
(oh, that was far too obvious to write,
I suppose...and yet?)
And there this tree,
The Allowing Tree,
that is never in the same place,
I swear!

Light on my feet this am
after writing virtually nothing,
in my new tennis, black
and surprisingly? YES, pink!
Dog flying by my side with happy ears,
over hill and dale!

When my new partners
and I initially met,
we discussed backgrounds,
because although
the dried banana leaf paper
had been sufficient enough
for the Wild Women series,
it wouldn't be for children's stories!

"And where will they live?" they asked.

This question sent me into
a panic, last April!
Live? They don't live anywhere!
And certainly nothing as mundane
as a house or rabbit hut.
Winnie the Pooh images flooding in
and it felt too cliche for the characters
I meant to create.
So where then?

And just like Rikii's name,
(while running one day,)
it suddenly came to me.
They will live in Lighthouses!!!
Of course, it was perfect!
Magic lighthouses that move around
the island (like the tree)
never in the same location,
where they were last seen.
In whimsical colors,
designed with slides, funny door knobs,
odd shaped windows
and bucket like roofs.

Because on the island... in MY real life
and along the edges of the lake,
are lighthouses!

Years ago, a group got together to create
a series of lighthouses
that are exact replicas
of famous ones from around the country.
These lighthouses,
(and I wish I knew more about this)
are not just for looks,
they guide boaters around
the sharp cliffed edges of a night time shore.
They are cool and fun, candy striped,
East coast looking, castle like,
one is even from my hometown cliffs
of Lake Superior!

There is one of these lighthouses,
in the distance,
it becomes my destination,
realizing I have never really sat on
or near one before.
Running near, paddling by
or boating past, yes,
but not sitting with them.
Or lets say, I have not yet 'experienced' one.

I reach it and lean on this particular one
that is half red and half white.
There is graffiti all over, but nice graffiti
epithets of juvenile love.
And in the spirit of the candle party,
I attended the previous night,
where we had to guess the fragrance,
of samples as they were passed around,
in which I was inspired to come up
with names like
Baby Butts or Bazooka Pink and Dirty Feet.
I started to think of descriptions!

Hmmm? So,
this lighthouse could be called,
Half Licked Lollipop.

That's it! The lighthouses need names!!!
Of Briggiedy Blue Saturday,
One Stripe and Periwinkle Pockets !!!!!!
Thats's good! Quick, write it down....
Crap, no notebook it's two miles across desert
in my jeep.
So it is a race back to the paper,
while being chased by idea after idea!

And this when I know...
THIS is how it works...
how it has always worked.
I don't sit in
my dining room waiting for it to find me...
staring out the window....

For me? It is in the act of movement,
participation, interaction,
paying attention to the world,
in the voices of lighthouses
and herons, even the seagulls
(who don't seem to like me, much.)
in looking for heart shaped stones,
building stone people,
having a kite strung from my hands.
THIS is where the magic finds me,
in acts of playing and silly communion
where imagination becomes ignited
with 'what if after what if?'

In synchronistic confirmation,
there is an email from
my friend 'hippie gypsy mother of four,'
who had just read my last
post about the Unprocess of Writing,
and writes most profoundly:
(and it seems I am not the only one
thinking in rhymes....these days.)

"Your job today, is to get out and play

follow the flow, catch and release rainbows.

Frantastic, spoonastic, make it hoohoobulus fun.

Then pull out your pen and dream up some drum,

Putting flow to paper and swirling colors round,

It will only be found when playing around."

And she is right!

But I DO think I might have to design
some paper pants
and maybe wear a pen on a rope around my neck!
for those inspirational moments
when that notebook is in the distance...
a long ways from that 'Barber Shop' lighthouse
on What If Island.

Pam Piper Rain

Page 2 The Un~process of Writing

Rising from the thrashed
tangled tide of sheets, it's early...
(feline early,
meaning they are not up nor
are they getting up anytime soon.)
But I am and have to be!
It's time to chase the magic,
well, more like try to find it.
AND then chase it down and
wrestle it to the page, willing or unwilling,
good or awful, trite or profound,
something must be netted at this time!

Cause this is my job...
and I am showing up for it.

This time? From 5 to 7.
Before the world wakes up
outside my window, inside my computer
(social media distractions, stay away, stay away.)
Two hours to write something before
the dog starts to block my path,
(the one I walk the same time everyday
just in case I forgot I had ONE ,
she thinks tripping over her might
help her cause.)
Before the phone stars to buzz with texts
and demands and inquires,
equally impossible to ignore.
Before I start to get 'Leadership head'
more planning, more fussing, more fretting!

So I make the perfect cup of coffee,
sit at my dining room table,
not glancing in the direction
of the pouty dog
and stare out the window
for any sign of the sun and
I am ready to begin the process...!

The process?
This would be where I write about it,
I suppose!
Except... I don't really have one
and quite frankly I should BY now!
For me it's always been random.
like while driving somewhere
and making an erratic stop,
to jot a phrase that sometimes
feels handed to me from the heavens,
and usually a one shot deal.
A take it or 'we are finding someone else
whose NOT driving' to give it to!

It's the kind of gift
that can happen in the grocery store
or paddling
(a very inconvenient time for inspiration)
it happens in conversation.
In which, I get a certain look
and am handed a pad of paper,
by observant friends.

Before the Rikii MuZe
contract was signed,
I was on fire,
writing on butcher papered doorways,
wipe and erase boards, chalkboards even
on any scrap of paper I could find,
my house littered with them
and notebooks started, lost,
a new one started and lost!

But in that time of chaotic creativity
Rikii MuZe was born, his name brainstormed
on a June day...
with my closest friend,
bouncing the spewing nonsense back to me,
while paddle boarding.
His name had to be just right,
I don't even think
I realized the responsibility
at the time, it was just fun!
We'd laugh, knowing right away NO that's not it,
it had to fit and be the name of a poet,
a poet extraordinaire.
Wanting to incorporate lyric or limerick or rhymes,
some poetic reference!

Wish, I could remember the other names,
but I don't, only the moment I said his name out loud
on the west side of the island,
standing in the middle of the lake...
it was a 110 degree day and I GOT the chills,
and knew it was right!
Rikii MuZe, with two i's like bunny ears
and muse with a capital Z.
I had found him and he had found me.

This is the magic!
The magic, I am looking for this morning.
Hmm? Wondering if
those fuzzy fleece cloud patterned pants
will provide inspiration?
You know, like if one is 'reaching for the sky,'
it will be more likely to occur while
wearing cloud pants. Right?
I put them on , grab another cup of coffee
and close the door on the mopey popey dog!

And...still nothing!

Back to the story:
In the months to follow,
there were many more moments to match that one!

A list of funny names begin rattling in my head
collected from wherever they come from!
Tuttle Pod's name inspired by an email
from Tuttle and Page,
(some business I have yet
to get another e mail from????)
My hippie gypsy friend and mother of four told me
a story about a make believe
character her child believed in.
With the very complicated name of Toe Dee Knony,
(took awhile to figure out the spelling on that one.)
Another friends misspelled name gave me, Jillie Gee!
My favorite poet turned into Rumi Roo
and on it went.

I had so many ideas
soon, I was running from papered door to papered door,
scribbling the ideas as THEY chased me down.
"Wait, wait, I would yell I am out of paper!"

NOW! It's an hour later,
the sun is up and still nothing...
oddly enough, 'rabbits' have taken over the yard,
hopping here and there and everywhere!
The plain beige ones
that don't get Rikii's polka dotted pinkness.
Called Willy Nilly and TanDum Jack,
UGH, are they all taunting me?

Hmmm! Maybe my lucky race bandanna will help,
the one with the cross bones and skulls,
and of course the socks that match!!
Right away, I know these clothing additions
are NOT going
to provide any 'word juice' other than
probably... Arghhh!

So anyways the story:
Soon, I had 22 animal names,
a clear concept of Rikii's qualities
and philosophies and an outline of four stories.
At that time, it was ALL I could think of!

A road trip the end of June,
with my funny bright best friend, Mary Lou,
that should have
taken only six hours and instead lasted ten!
With nine U turns or more, we ended up in Mexico,
rather than our destination, San Diego.
But in the process...
we manage to connect the names to all the animals
and although lost more often than not,
magic was definitely on board for that trip!

So? Do I NEED to take a ten hour trip then?
Have paper ready at the drop of a thought,
wake up in the middle of the night
nagged by something, that won't let me sleep....
I guess so because....

Sitting here in my fuzzy cloud pants,
lucky skull and cross bones race bandanna on,
(& matching socks)
with the perfect cup of coffee,
and tattered rhyming dictionary at the ready,
while a whole family of rabbits multiplies
before my eyes,
is getting me nothing....
nata... no magic.

Its 7 and time to begin my other life
and all I wrote is this blah, blah blog
about the process or rather
the un~process of beginning!

So I decide to....

Pam Piper Rain