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
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
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,
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,
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,
Years ago, a group got together to create
a series of lighthouses
that are exact replicas
of famous ones from around the country.
(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!
this lighthouse could be called,
Half Licked Lollipop.
That's it! The lighthouses need names!!!
Of course...like 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,
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