tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37107269281649125092024-03-14T05:14:52.574-04:00Word Weaving WitchA Blog by K.M. AlleenaK.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.comBlogger115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-5159436786892535962014-02-01T00:33:00.005-05:002014-02-01T00:33:55.914-05:00New Mediums<h2>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><u>Two New Projects</u></span><br /></h2>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<h3>
<a href="http://kmalleena.wordpress.com/">Words That Stay: A Blog by K.M. Alleena</a></h3>
<h3>
<a href="http://thebirdsthatownme.wordpress.com/">The Birds That Own Me</a></h3>
</div>
K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-29884721115978774082013-11-28T10:52:00.002-05:002013-11-28T10:52:59.215-05:00A Transition, A Moment of Clarity, and Space for Silence<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fwPQ7lLSWCQ/UpdhOywN8QI/AAAAAAAABf4/xmvSYN4iBAk/s1600/Bloody_Autumn__wide_view__by_Frider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fwPQ7lLSWCQ/UpdhOywN8QI/AAAAAAAABf4/xmvSYN4iBAk/s400/Bloody_Autumn__wide_view__by_Frider.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: xx-small;">|Credit: <a href="http://frider.deviantart.com/art/Bloody-Autumn-wide-view-15050760">[x]</a>|</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
First, Happy Thanksgiving.<br /><br />I'm finding that it is important to remember how often we don't remember to let people know how thankful we are for them. We are caught up in our busy lives, and we flash our smiles, but apparently we need a holiday to tell people we appreciate them. As so many of my friends have posted today -- being thankful doesn't need to be constrained to one day if you're careful enough to pay attention. I find that, for the most part, I am not always careful. So here goes:<br /><br />I am thankful for the transition not only between fall and winter but of last year and this year. I am thankful for the difficulties I faced and overcame, because they have helped me see my strength when I thought it was failing. Part of this transition was also working incredibly hard to get here -- to this moment, to understand just how far I've walked on this path and how much I've accomplished. I'm thankful for that moment of clarity which shows me what I am capable of when I feel I've lost my sense of direction. I am thankful for the silences filled with tiny noises that remind me that life completely goes on even if we are stuck. These things are encouragement.<br /><br />I am thankful for my new home -- Oswego, and for the chance-in-a-million that I would find this college and move here. I have met amazing people, and each one of them I am more thankful for than I know how to express in words -- My mentor, my various bosses and coworkers across two jobs, my teachers and professors -- folks who allow me to laugh with them, regardless. I am thankful for my friends who I would not have met if not for this town or this school, all of us with eerily similar stories to share.<br /><br />I am thankful for my old home, my extended family, my parents -- the friends I made, while I was in those awkward younger years, that still reach out to speak with me regardless of distance. My old town, and it's old river that flooded too many times with too many winters and too many storms -- I'm so thankful for its teaching me that even when there isn't much to be had, we still have each other. <br /><br />I am thankful for the people I have met who are not connected to either of my homes -- for conversation, for strength, for a sense of determination that might baffle anyone else. A small thank you for teaching me what lessons you probably didn't realize you were bringing. A smaller thank you for crossing paths and threads and words over so much space and through so much circumstance. A whisper of a thank you to all of those people, fighting your own battles, and relating them to me so I can know your stories.<br /><br />Each of us, in our connections with others, shape the world we walk in. And if that isn't something to be thankful about -- well, I'm not sure what is. So happy Thanksgiving. I appreciate you, even if it doesn't cross my mind to always state it so plainly -- I do appreciate you. All of you. Have a safe and wonderful holiday!K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-72082275988727630392013-10-14T13:26:00.003-04:002013-10-14T13:31:43.838-04:00Abandon the Suburbs<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ri0leOkHe-g/Ulwg0aZr_wI/AAAAAAAABfM/jzxdV7BsVMo/s1600/winter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ri0leOkHe-g/Ulwg0aZr_wI/AAAAAAAABfM/jzxdV7BsVMo/s640/winter.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/garreyf/4035437395/sizes/o/in/photolist-79AEWP-fEUGjs-fLh9Ba-9Qr9a3-9cvzpU-9csuQ4-bk6Pkb-4a6g2u-cZcsHU-cZc1W1-cZcqBQ-adZYHc-gAcBiK-5LuTeN-5tb8Hh-bzJF9b-aerCoF-8B8vjH-9oTbTG-5DY8sU-anTTVn-2QDJYX-75NoDi-7ASUR8-95fc1L-2p3qi4-75bpf-75Rgbo-fS5fQA-bqyLz8-6KaQej-cZc6fC-fS4aLC-fzUwC2-fddLDE-cZcx57-cZcuNw-z4pSK-e7VfRT-wSuoQ-5FKVt-8Qm2vG-3cBwok-4sneS3-9kVX9n-9kZ2nE-9kVX4a-6zAqcy-841hj9-fSCf4U-dYgNfQ/" target="_blank">[x]</a></span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I've been writing poetry about the places where nature meets suburbia. Lately, I've been rooting for nature. <br />
<br />
Winter's approaching pretty fast here in Oswego. Although -- I mean -- some days, walking home from work in the afternoon, the sun gets pretty warm still. I am waiting for the trees to just be that explosion of fiery reds, oranges and yellows that I remember. But it seems to be that the weather's been so odd, that the leaves are browning and dying before they even get the chance.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I wander around town. Lately, I've just been so exhausted, I couldn't even muster the strength to go around the block to my mentor's shop. There are days when I am so glad that I live here, where there's enough going on so close together that I don't need a car -- that I can mostly walk comfortably to almost anywhere I need to go. Then there are days where I just don't want to be around all this <i>noise.</i> You know what I mean?<br />
<br />
I walk down Bridge Street and turn off of it a couple blocks away from my house. I find myself lately craving a walk home where I don't have to hear so many cars racing by me. <br />
I want some time out in the wilderness, where your closest neighbor would be a mile down the road. I want a cozy house without loud music playing a couple floors above me. A cabin in the woods, perfect for the writing life. Just the kind of quiet a city certainly lacks -- and the suburbs are no better. I work a "normal" job, or two -- and an odd apprenticeship-job on the side, to boot. All to pay the bills and keep a roof over my head and under my upstairs neighbors' feet and stereos. I'm not complaining in the sense that I hate what I have. I love it. I feel so lucky to be able to be here now. It's just kind of loud. I feel out of place sometimes. Like -- circle the thing in this group that doesn't belong -- type out-of-place. Like I really do belong in the woods somewhere, writing away.<br />
<br />
I don't know if it is the weather that's sparked this sort of emotion in me, or the cars, or the connectivity we all have to our technology -- I have no idea. I do know that I wish for some times closer to nature than to the "real world." Is it escapism? Probably. But hey. Anyone who wants to escape away from the bustle of modern living -- you're a-okay with me. You and I both belong in the settings of fantasy novels. K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-72796380086933899362013-09-25T11:26:00.000-04:002013-09-25T11:26:46.626-04:00When a Bunch of Lokeans Take a Car Trip to Pagan Pride Day<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-47fPjtiDNFc/UkLt4NK4u7I/AAAAAAAABew/ZYn6fy2lLB4/s1600/heathen+probs+158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-47fPjtiDNFc/UkLt4NK4u7I/AAAAAAAABew/ZYn6fy2lLB4/s320/heathen+probs+158.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>| Credit: <a href="http://heathenproblems.tumblr.com/post/28455813246/heathen-problem-158-the-suspicion-that-all-the" target="_blank">[x]</a> |</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Trust the process. It can be said that Lokeans live in a sea of chaos -- and not always a sea that stems from the source himself. So trust the process. That is what I kept trying to tell myself.<br />
<br />Except when the directions tell you to drive all the way back to "Sweet Road" (On Campus, near Culkin Hall) after being on the east side of Oswego already. And we do so anyway, because we are Lokeans and, deity aside, our acceptance of chaos helps us be both late and lost more often than we want to admit. Which is why the consensus was to follow the directions exactly, for fear of the consequences... <br /><br />Last Saturday was the annual <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/CNY-Pagan-Pride-Day/115228375184812" target="_blank">CNY Pagan Pride Day</a>, and the first one I'd ever been to. With my campus organization, we arranged to carpool in a first-come, first-serve manner, and so it happened that at least three out of four people in that car were Lokean in one manner or the next. A day that started with a wonky GPS and navigational system kept getting seasoned with a little chaos here, and a little more there -- until, looking back on it all, we found humor.<br />
<br />Kris, Candi, Kat and I decided that once we had recovered our sense of direction, it would be beneficial to stop for coffee. It was at the drive-in window at Dunkin Donuts that the next event occurred. Kris's phone rang, and she answered it just as she pulled around to the pick-up window. Her mom had called -- and us, being on the wrong side of the telephone, only got half the story.<br /><br />"I thought you were camping all weekend!" Kris exclaimed, rolling her eyes with a sigh. Her shoulders slumped, and the poor cashier awkwardly held our food and beverages suspended in mid-air as the telephone conversation continued. "WHAT? No, why would I have the CAT!? I'm out with friends for the day!" And the chattering continued in this fashion, until nothing made any sort of sense. Kris hung up the phone, and finally took our order from the cashier. <br />"I left my consent sheets on the dining room table mixed in with my job applications, and now everyone's coming home early from camping to find them," she said. The car was silent as we tried to determine what the actual heck she was talking about. We were still stuck on the fact that her parents were home early, and had thought Kris the sort to leave with cat-in-arms on a weekend adventure. It was Pagan Pride Day, after all -- but come on now. <br /><br />My cellphone GPS beeped every time Kris went even half a mph over the speed limit. As we were nearing the "motorway," -- as the British-sounding computer-generated voice liked to proclaim -- the speed limit changed to a much higher number -- and the GPS didn't realize this until much later. We contented with a loud, judgmental beeping -- wrong as it was to judge poor Kris, magnet of chaos.<br /><br />It was only at the gas station bathroom down the road from PPD that Candi realized that our saga might just have a pretty funny title. We were given the "Bathroom Stick" by the station attendant, and on this piece of splintery plywood, a ring of keys that unlocked the bathroom, flew like a flag. Kris left the stick on the bathroom sink -- "DON'T LET THE DOOR CLOSE!" she announced -- "I HAVE LEFT THE STICK ON THE SINK. Let's not lock it in there." And of course, the door slowly began to shut as we all scrambled to get there first and keep it open. When all was said and done, it was Candi that said "See? THIS is what happens when Lokeans take a car trip!" and the realization was greeted with hysterical laughter. Yes -- this was the truth.<br /><br />So the point of this pointless post? Acceptance of chaos does not always or necessarily mean that Loki himself is causing very minor things to happen. Our theory, all of us on that car trip, might be that in our acceptance of chaos, and in the honoring of the Deity that chose us, we can find not only humor, but lessons in even the hardest bout of unfortunate or awkward events. What did any of this teach us? To trust the process. We got to PPD at the time we wanted, and had a wonderful time -- all the while trying not to get lost, take cats with us, forget our paperwork...ect, ect... Probably these were lessons in not being married to a specific, rigid plan. To go with the flow. To trust that what happens will happen -- and to embrace that chaos in which full, colorful lives will thrive. So, our common Deity is Loki. Yes, he brings us some wild chaos. No, we absolutely didn't pick him. But in all things -- car trip included -- we can begin to understand what lessons that energy can teach.K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-47904523033993629222013-09-09T14:13:00.001-04:002013-09-09T14:18:19.089-04:00On First-Time Marathon Tarot Reading<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIPw9A5WHrPcLu8oXgzFC-ticTzMT1dhX7hpreswVpWEjEJqUzIr75L-EGawILDmZnsxFU51lGWBlwAuPyMGUBCLpbgtAHsu1E2NsKNjq_4xgK9UwXwJo760EnKHgyI1sgdObof9wzFDw/s1600/tarot+reading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIPw9A5WHrPcLu8oXgzFC-ticTzMT1dhX7hpreswVpWEjEJqUzIr75L-EGawILDmZnsxFU51lGWBlwAuPyMGUBCLpbgtAHsu1E2NsKNjq_4xgK9UwXwJo760EnKHgyI1sgdObof9wzFDw/s320/tarot+reading.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Hi.<br />
<br />
On Saturday, September 7th, I participated in an event called "Lakerfest," which was a cute, free on-campus activity fair that happened in Cayuga field. Lots of interesting things went on, all for free -- including some kind of raffle. I happened to be one of two tarot readers available to work that day.<br />
<br />
I am the apprentice to the owner of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Fey-Dragon/57334520758" target="_blank">The Fey Dragon</a> in Oswego, and so we sort of went as a team. It's a good thing, too -- because we both saw at the very least 50 students a piece line up for tarot readings. Some went back in line to get a reading from the other. It was a little hectic.<br />
<br />
But I was warned of this long before the event loomed over the horizon. I was told how much energy would be exchanged, how fast-paced the event would be -- how little time there was to disconnect, recenter, reground and reshield. It got overwhelming fast. I mean -- two days later and I am still exhausted.<br />
<br />
I took a single break in four hours worth of ceaseless readings to ground out, drink water and feel the wind. But man, if I didn't feel as though I got ran over by some metaphysical force, than I felt nothing at all. You know that feeling you get when you're about to pass out? The color drains from your face? Or -- better -- that feeling you get in your gut when your phone bleeps because it's only got 1% battery left and you're stuck away from home for a long time still? That is exactly how it feels to do marathon tarot readings. The energy really depletes, and I am finding that it takes a lot to bring it back up. I don't wish to touch another card right yet. Each time I try, my hands shake as though I am lifting something much heavier than a deck of cards. But then again, isn't tarot always much heavier than we realize?<br />
<br />
Part of me can still feel a weird sort of exchange happening, like a bit of me remained in the space of the tarot readings and stayed with the people being read. Though I could barely muster the strength to look at some querents in the eye towards the end of my four hour marathon-read -- I found myself recognizing a few students in the hallways today as I wandered to class and work. They looked up too. There was a spark of recognition there between us. Some students turned to their friends, pointing. <i>"That's the fortune teller."</i> Yes, that's one way to put it.<br />
<br />
I feel out of space and time when this happens. I feel odd, knowing that they now know me. They have a title for me. Some are weirded out, but most are not. <i>Why?</i> I don't know. One person asked me if I had a degree in fortune telling. I answered that no -- of course not -- but I was working on my Creative Writing Degree. That's close enough, right? And they smiled. I was out of the loop. I've been the weird tarot girl since Freshman Year, but now A LOT of people see me in that light. I am not sure how to react to it. I want to correct them and say "Card reader." or "No, it's Katie. I'm Katie. Hello!" But at the same time, I like the mysticism of the words "Fortune" and "Teller" together in one breath. It's why the word <i>'sibyl'</i> exists. It's etymology stems from a greek word <i>'sibylla' </i>which meant '<i>prophetess.' </i>Much like the word <i>'vala'</i> and/or<i> 'spækona'</i> in Anglo-Saxon, and similarly, <i>'v</i><i><i>ö</i>lva</i>' in Old Norse. People are all at once in awe, frightened and fascinated by the terminology. They wonder how it is that I can know these things, without realizing that we may just all have the power to <i>know these things.</i> <br />
<br />
I come out of this event with new experiences and a bit of a new perspective. I know I need to learn so much more. I know, looking back, that I have come so far since June -- let alone Freshman Year. (I am a pseudo-senior by the way.) I know a pitfall of so much energy being given and not allowing myself time to replenish. I know how fast hours fly while we sleep -- and I know how valuable a good rest is from other experience before just this. It is not enough in the case of this sort of intense work on a metaphysical level. But now I know. For future reference. <br />
<br />
Reflecting on this, part of my brain is screaming "NO, I never ever EVER want to do this again!" but the rest of me says, "Well, I know. But we need to. This is our obstacle. This is our challenge." But I have to keep in mind how INTENSE the experience is, and better prepare. Sort out how I feel before hand and make damn sure I get where I need to be in advance of the next marathon read.<br />
<br />K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-82103756722427496382013-06-22T17:38:00.000-04:002013-06-22T17:38:09.245-04:00Hello Oswego<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vI9ytFkxjtY/UbPWLqPqoTI/AAAAAAAABbU/esRmbyoHzug/s1600/WP_000950.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vI9ytFkxjtY/UbPWLqPqoTI/AAAAAAAABbU/esRmbyoHzug/s400/WP_000950.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view of my desk and book case.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On Friday, June 7th, I moved to Oswego, right near campus. This is my first ever apartment, and a lot of responsibility now falls over my shoulders. It has been a really tough journey and still ahead there are more obstacles. I can't see very far down that path yet, but I know what I must do to overcome and make it through this year and the next. But, the point is that I made it here after all that struggle.<br />
<br />
I found a job, I got an apprenticeship, and I'm out walking all over the place, making this new town my home. I've been here for college, but it's different when you live on campus. It's different, too, with this newness and uncertainty that is paired with having a place of my own. And my intention is to be as self sufficient as I can as I progress. I know times are tough, and I am privileged beyond belief to even be able to go to college. My hardships are nothing in comparison. But still I feel weird.<br />
That's the whole of it. I feel weird.<br /><br />I've been trying to put this more eloquently since the week after I arrived here to my new apartment. But I can't. Sometimes the right word isn't always as complicated as I think it needs to be. Now, I've had bills to pay for several years now -- that's nothing new. But the responsibility of rent and utilities? It's very odd to have bills like those with my name on them. It's so strange to truly have my own space too. Granted, my room is very small -- but I have a book case built directly into my wall. It's exactly what I needed! My bed frame is a dresser and a book case as well. I also was given a dresser and had a few tote-like storage drawers to work with too. So space is utilized well, regardless. <br />
<br />
Ah -- I digress.<br />
The weird part is, I am doing this all by myself now. I don't have a safety net because I've had to be my own. This is the real deal and very close to "The Real World" my parents have always told me about. I'm still in school, true enough. I'm still in school with a major that isn't valued by the society, true enough -- and that's a post for another day. So where is this real world? When the semester starts, I will be working two jobs, going to school full time, leading the organization that I founded, and working on a tarot apprenticeship. Then there's daily care for the apartment, including cooking all of my own meals. Strange. Weird. Odd. <br /><br />But the thing is? I know I can do this. A lot of challenges are staring me right in the face, but still. I know without a doubt that I can do this and survive the next two years, no matter how difficult. I have to. It's that simple. I've gotten so far, and I will not give up now. And hey, if this isn't the real world? Well. What doesn't kill ya, right?<br /><br />Hello Oswego. I'm so glad to be here, and I face the challenges before me with a smile.K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-43523947069428550132013-05-30T21:38:00.000-04:002013-10-14T13:41:14.391-04:00Mermaids: The Body Found & The New Evidence on Animal Planet <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tqjc9i6djMk/Uaf7JTukZXI/AAAAAAAABW0/HPDJUqARokg/s1600/mermaids-the-new-evidence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tqjc9i6djMk/Uaf7JTukZXI/AAAAAAAABW0/HPDJUqARokg/s1600/mermaids-the-new-evidence.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">|Credit: <a href="http://animal.discovery.com/tv-shows/mermaids/photos/from-the-show.htm">[x]</a> <a href="http://cryptoreports.com/mermaids-the-new-evidence">[x]</a>|</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="post_body">
...were wonderful mockumentaries. I really love the concept behind
them and yeah I agree that it’s all about humanity’s impact on the
environment and our general inability to coexist. <br />
<br />
But if you
want to think outside the box a bit — who is to say that co-evolutionary
aquatic humanoids couldn’t have ever existed? So we don’t really have
proof, but I like the idea — it’s like believing in aliens. We have no
“proof” of them but, the universe is large. And they did say something
I’ve heard before both of these shows — we know more about the surface
of the Moon than we do about the bottom of the ocean.<br />
<br />
And on the mythology? Yes. Seafarers forever across many cultures
(some of which may not have ever made contact or perpetuated cultural
diffusion whatsoever) have stories about half-fish women, sirens,
mermaids — the like. Sometimes they’re good — sometimes they’re bad.
Again, even these stories kind of warn humanity about their inability to
coexist.<br />
<br />
I think the important part brought to attention in "The New Evidence" is the fact that governments, despite the fact that there are marine mammals<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i> (I'm talking whales)</i></span> that can be harmed by such work, will still drill for oil regardless of the safety and health of animals in the areas they wish to drill. Again, this is a finger pointing to the state of affairs -- a point in time where we as a species use people and value things, as the saying goes. We use and abuse and pollute our planet. SO IF a new species was even discovered -- would efforts be made to conserve them? Or would the quest for, say, oil -- would that still take center stage?<br />
<br />
I, as a writer and a witch, want to believe in actual mermaids -- but this wasn't compelling enough for me to suspend all disbelief. The CGI ... well -- I wish they had better effects artists, to say the least. I understood the whole program and the follow-up as more of self-commentary on humanity than a debunking of mythology. As I scrolled through Tumblr, I kept marking ones that states similar things and said aloud "EXACTLY!" <br />
<br />
I think it's perfectly fine, too -- to believe in mermaids and to entertain the theory of co-evolutionary aquatic humanoids. As I stated before, it's like believing in aliens. Anything is possible, and as a witch -- I confirm in my own mind that anything is possible indeed. It depends on worldview and perspective. I don't think this mockumentary was based in tons of hard, cold, science-y research, no. But I think the theory is there. That's the thing about Sci-fi. There are theories, and where science can't make proof appear, writers come in make some up for story's sake. For making new answers to the "what if?"<br />
<br />
I’ve been writing a lot of pirate fiction since about mid-semester,
and this sort of thing was just the inspiration I needed to create more
monster-esque Sirens. I like the idea of these creatures not being able to morph at will between a human form and a "water snake" form, as I have written. I like the idea that they would be purely aquatic and aggressive towards humans -- without magic, but without explanation, too. Monsters to people of a time long past -- say, to the pirates on the Caribbean seas.<br />
<br />
I am a writer, at the core of me. So -- I love stories. Simple. So even though
these programs had the world in a tizzy, I think the concept of
Government’s involvement with ecological matters and how we, as a
species in general, have not been careful about existing amongst other
life on this planet is a wonderful message. Sometimes it takes a damn
good fictional story to make people start to think about more important,
underlying themes, though. <br />
<u><b><br />More links of note: </b></u><br />
Animal Planet's Page for the show: <a href="http://animal.discovery.com/tv-shows/mermaids">[x]</a><br />
Huffington Post's comment: <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/05/27/mermaids-the-new-evidence_n_3343773.html">[x]</a><br />
IMBD Pages: <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1816585/">[x]</a> & <a href="http://www.imdb.com/news/ni54566498/">[x]</a><br />
NOAA's Bloop Signature: <a href="http://oceanexplorer.noaa.gov/explorations/sound01/background/seasounds/seasounds.html">[x]</a><br />
NOAA's "<i>Are Mermaids Real?</i>" <a href="http://oceanservice.noaa.gov/facts/mermaids.html">[x]</a><br />
NOAA <a href="http://www.noaa.gov/">[x]</a> <br />
Ocean Conservation Research <a href="http://ocr.org/">[x]</a><br />
Marine Conservation Biology <a href="http://marinebio.org/oceans/marine-conservation-biology.asp">[x]</a><br />
World Wildlife Fund (Whales) <a href="http://worldwildlife.org/species/whale">[x]</a><br />
Fish and Wildlife Conservation <a href="http://www.fws.gov/fisheries/">[x]</a></div>
K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-5818162100104264602013-05-26T15:22:00.001-04:002013-05-27T03:46:40.787-04:00Hint of a Spark ~ Progress and ProcessHello everyone ! I know it's been a frightfully long time since I have blogged, but I think the daily blogging thing will pick up after I move into my new apartment in two weeks.<br />
<br />
For this post, though -- I wanted to talk about my poetry chapbook, Hint of a Spark, which I wrote while I was auditing Creative Writing 405 -- Advanced Poetry last semester at SUNY Oswego.<br />
It's been a process -- a very different shift in genre that I'm thankful for. It helped me realize a different potential when it came to my writing, how I write and what I really focus on in terms of my poetry.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PK1rzVGp730/UaJaGzqVsuI/AAAAAAAABVw/1KTpRWGPUGI/s1600/WP_000846.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PK1rzVGp730/UaJaGzqVsuI/AAAAAAAABVw/1KTpRWGPUGI/s200/WP_000846.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RwqbruCc6ek/UaJaGUPTWUI/AAAAAAAABVc/7gnvlvX3IQw/s1600/WP_000844.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RwqbruCc6ek/UaJaGUPTWUI/AAAAAAAABVc/7gnvlvX3IQw/s200/WP_000844.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HV7sC59Zxzk/UaJaGji03SI/AAAAAAAABVg/3y5sDGvEAOE/s1600/WP_000845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HV7sC59Zxzk/UaJaGji03SI/AAAAAAAABVg/3y5sDGvEAOE/s200/WP_000845.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
Hint of a Spark is a book containing poetry that focuses around the central theme of getting through heartbreak. It asks the question "What is Heartbreak?" and, on a more personal level, wonders why written events occurred as they did. The entire book is handmade -- photos to follow <i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(though some actually aren't highest quality as they are cell phone photos; my SD card drive is being strange)</span></i> -- and more information about the process of putting this project together. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><u><b>I. Process</b></u></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BQeGNfuz6kE/UaJQz9paX7I/AAAAAAAABQE/7HUMjG-kVVQ/s1600/IMG_0615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BQeGNfuz6kE/UaJQz9paX7I/AAAAAAAABQE/7HUMjG-kVVQ/s200/IMG_0615.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ju8e-g4VBy8/UaJQzMNzUqI/AAAAAAAABP4/jG-erEUPpK4/s1600/IMG_0614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ju8e-g4VBy8/UaJQzMNzUqI/AAAAAAAABP4/jG-erEUPpK4/s200/IMG_0614.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hRTSICo8STQ/UaJQykKCxNI/AAAAAAAABP0/9zfD1vWecWc/s1600/IMG_0613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hRTSICo8STQ/UaJQykKCxNI/AAAAAAAABP0/9zfD1vWecWc/s200/IMG_0613.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KnKQLmPNnAY/UaJQ1loS8wI/AAAAAAAABQY/icYxaqOyCCQ/s1600/IMG_0620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KnKQLmPNnAY/UaJQ1loS8wI/AAAAAAAABQY/icYxaqOyCCQ/s200/IMG_0620.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eJ5pWkrKKrI/UaJQ0EC7J2I/AAAAAAAABQI/wxzNMzRlV08/s1600/IMG_0616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eJ5pWkrKKrI/UaJQ0EC7J2I/AAAAAAAABQI/wxzNMzRlV08/s200/IMG_0616.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XSF2LFOwS1Q/UaJQ0wyaALI/AAAAAAAABQU/MP4wpLkf9Cg/s1600/IMG_0619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XSF2LFOwS1Q/UaJQ0wyaALI/AAAAAAAABQU/MP4wpLkf9Cg/s200/IMG_0619.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The first part of the project was actually making the paper. For that, I had to use a pretty high quality and tough drawing paper. I chose one meant to be used with acrylic paints. To age it, I used the end of a pot of mint chocolate coffee -- you know -- the really mud-like stuff that occurs after the coffee pot has been left on too long? <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(I did that on purpose for the project, fyi.)</i></span> Using a sea sponge, I put said coffee on both sides of the paper while it was sitting on some wax paper on a cookie tray. To dry it out, I baked said paper in the oven on 200 degrees for as long as it took me to apply coffee to the next sheet. So between five and ten minutes give or take. It won't burn, but it does curl up if you leave it in there longer -- it curls because the moisture is leaving the paper, mind you. That means it can get too dry and crumble around the corners. <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(Yep, that happened last time I did this for a project.)</i></span> So just don't forget about it while you're working. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zuwLZjQt2gs/UaJTt8_KyqI/AAAAAAAABQ4/9wwA1QPMgd4/s1600/IMG_0623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zuwLZjQt2gs/UaJTt8_KyqI/AAAAAAAABQ4/9wwA1QPMgd4/s200/IMG_0623.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NnmsLmJsjJE/UaJTtIecB8I/AAAAAAAABQ0/Y6cAvPiXSg4/s1600/IMG_0622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NnmsLmJsjJE/UaJTtIecB8I/AAAAAAAABQ0/Y6cAvPiXSg4/s200/IMG_0622.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8hETELTwQ4k/UaJT5MWzTHI/AAAAAAAABSA/y-JP8P1mXxk/s1600/IMG_0635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8hETELTwQ4k/UaJT5MWzTHI/AAAAAAAABSA/y-JP8P1mXxk/s200/IMG_0635.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UxT4n03I8Mg/UaJT2dp2-uI/AAAAAAAABRc/9AAEa65qC-c/s1600/IMG_0627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UxT4n03I8Mg/UaJT2dp2-uI/AAAAAAAABRc/9AAEa65qC-c/s200/IMG_0627.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qtP6apo7jAI/UaJTwAu8abI/AAAAAAAABRA/m46Z-wwcbhU/s1600/IMG_0624.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qtP6apo7jAI/UaJTwAu8abI/AAAAAAAABRA/m46Z-wwcbhU/s200/IMG_0624.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g-HoaNh2p5c/UaJTyQyWICI/AAAAAAAABRI/ytMufWaLB9Y/s1600/IMG_0625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g-HoaNh2p5c/UaJTyQyWICI/AAAAAAAABRI/ytMufWaLB9Y/s200/IMG_0625.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n-11pqnzuZs/UaJT3bwVjFI/AAAAAAAABRs/YadRW87Zu7M/s1600/IMG_0629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n-11pqnzuZs/UaJT3bwVjFI/AAAAAAAABRs/YadRW87Zu7M/s200/IMG_0629.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W1MPh8p76HU/UaJT0jIu-eI/AAAAAAAABRQ/cHgwhqm-3l8/s1600/IMG_0626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W1MPh8p76HU/UaJT0jIu-eI/AAAAAAAABRQ/cHgwhqm-3l8/s200/IMG_0626.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IJeM1r3GcPw/UaJT22hD6NI/AAAAAAAABRk/At-AZDHGMno/s1600/IMG_0628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IJeM1r3GcPw/UaJT22hD6NI/AAAAAAAABRk/At-AZDHGMno/s200/IMG_0628.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hZLhSVNdRuY/UaJT4Jzp7HI/AAAAAAAABR4/o85OQGPAHlw/s1600/IMG_0630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hZLhSVNdRuY/UaJT4Jzp7HI/AAAAAAAABR4/o85OQGPAHlw/s200/IMG_0630.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7iF87GVDh0w/UaJT4iGruMI/AAAAAAAABR0/it3tPKvEsQU/s1600/IMG_0632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7iF87GVDh0w/UaJT4iGruMI/AAAAAAAABR0/it3tPKvEsQU/s200/IMG_0632.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span id="goog_1537059450"></span><span id="goog_1537059451"></span></div>
The second part to aging the paper was to burn the edges along three sides. Three sides, because one side would be where you would punch holes for the binding, and that would've had to be kept as close to even as possible. In the process of burning paper though, I got singed a few times, got ash all over my parents' kitchen and smoke hurt my eyes. If you do this, be careful in every manner possible. It is dangerous and can be quick to get out of control. Have water nearby just in the event you happen to love fire as much as I do -- and the burning process goes out of control too quickly. This time around, I didn't end up ruining any of the paper -- which is good.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aFyIuZ0r8U0/UaJW3RAF-CI/AAAAAAAABSU/ukepcSBdbPE/s1600/IMG_0605.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aFyIuZ0r8U0/UaJW3RAF-CI/AAAAAAAABSU/ukepcSBdbPE/s200/IMG_0605.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-03ZLXlGujAs/UaJW2A90pBI/AAAAAAAABSM/rUT4faBHVx0/s1600/Cover+A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-03ZLXlGujAs/UaJW2A90pBI/AAAAAAAABSM/rUT4faBHVx0/s200/Cover+A.jpg" width="151" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V902bVwdaq8/UaJW3raaanI/AAAAAAAABSY/R2HLRdrY-HQ/s1600/Cover+B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V902bVwdaq8/UaJW3raaanI/AAAAAAAABSY/R2HLRdrY-HQ/s200/Cover+B.jpg" width="151" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qdfxgACpCho/UaJW5tC2AsI/AAAAAAAABSw/SfMC4_PUWw0/s1600/IMG_0608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qdfxgACpCho/UaJW5tC2AsI/AAAAAAAABSw/SfMC4_PUWw0/s200/IMG_0608.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mVielWRLa3k/UaJW4OBZ76I/AAAAAAAABSc/LmPQwJRvYCY/s1600/IMG_0606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mVielWRLa3k/UaJW4OBZ76I/AAAAAAAABSc/LmPQwJRvYCY/s200/IMG_0606.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5HRZQ1jDNxY/UaJW5OL8xKI/AAAAAAAABSs/ElpzowuEWOM/s1600/IMG_0607.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5HRZQ1jDNxY/UaJW5OL8xKI/AAAAAAAABSs/ElpzowuEWOM/s200/IMG_0607.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JWf-yPNtb1c/UaJW7FniQXI/AAAAAAAABTE/Ne_Wpru6PeI/s1600/IMG_0611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JWf-yPNtb1c/UaJW7FniQXI/AAAAAAAABTE/Ne_Wpru6PeI/s200/IMG_0611.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oOO6Mpu0RR8/UaJW6XO2g1I/AAAAAAAABS8/2mt_V05gfeM/s1600/IMG_0609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oOO6Mpu0RR8/UaJW6XO2g1I/AAAAAAAABS8/2mt_V05gfeM/s200/IMG_0609.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vwf6pwCp9cQ/UaJW61VQ8_I/AAAAAAAABTA/cJ3ERhx2Ufk/s1600/IMG_0610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vwf6pwCp9cQ/UaJW61VQ8_I/AAAAAAAABTA/cJ3ERhx2Ufk/s200/IMG_0610.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ril0Ype5Kfk/UaJW_F8-YeI/AAAAAAAABTw/JgkY0GcQjvA/s1600/IMG_0640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ril0Ype5Kfk/UaJW_F8-YeI/AAAAAAAABTw/JgkY0GcQjvA/s200/IMG_0640.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nHbEvUM2mgg/UaJW9T6lbiI/AAAAAAAABTc/aYndUeK_GXg/s1600/IMG_0638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nHbEvUM2mgg/UaJW9T6lbiI/AAAAAAAABTc/aYndUeK_GXg/s200/IMG_0638.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nLBFUifXpJw/UaJW99wBDRI/AAAAAAAABTg/Aw-y1Ly_f28/s1600/IMG_0639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nLBFUifXpJw/UaJW99wBDRI/AAAAAAAABTg/Aw-y1Ly_f28/s200/IMG_0639.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_kreqDohaZc/UaJXByaW8VI/AAAAAAAABUI/lDDUH5ikaSo/s1600/IMG_0643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_kreqDohaZc/UaJXByaW8VI/AAAAAAAABUI/lDDUH5ikaSo/s200/IMG_0643.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-btyQu5D73bo/UaJW--Nwk_I/AAAAAAAABTs/dZ80synOKU0/s1600/IMG_0641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-btyQu5D73bo/UaJW--Nwk_I/AAAAAAAABTs/dZ80synOKU0/s200/IMG_0641.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O_lnDh82hfI/UaJW_vCb-9I/AAAAAAAABT4/t2ZE1c5Lopg/s1600/IMG_0642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O_lnDh82hfI/UaJW_vCb-9I/AAAAAAAABT4/t2ZE1c5Lopg/s200/IMG_0642.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qBdAM4R6grg/UaJXDf96QiI/AAAAAAAABUc/G1CGRYlnxl0/s1600/IMG_0646.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qBdAM4R6grg/UaJXDf96QiI/AAAAAAAABUc/G1CGRYlnxl0/s200/IMG_0646.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lA_zIP1g3dM/UaJXCONVClI/AAAAAAAABUM/FqQ7FaKju3w/s1600/IMG_0644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lA_zIP1g3dM/UaJXCONVClI/AAAAAAAABUM/FqQ7FaKju3w/s200/IMG_0644.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j0CaN2FFs1k/UaJXB0444fI/AAAAAAAABUE/r3FTXkpB7Oc/s1600/IMG_0645.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j0CaN2FFs1k/UaJXB0444fI/AAAAAAAABUE/r3FTXkpB7Oc/s200/IMG_0645.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kSpynLSLA3I/UaJXFyN1otI/AAAAAAAABUw/Fj-J77myBoU/s1600/IMG_0649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kSpynLSLA3I/UaJXFyN1otI/AAAAAAAABUw/Fj-J77myBoU/s200/IMG_0649.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SJNTSY-k3OE/UaJXE-wAEBI/AAAAAAAABUk/AmiTsiFLcz0/s1600/IMG_0647.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SJNTSY-k3OE/UaJXE-wAEBI/AAAAAAAABUk/AmiTsiFLcz0/s200/IMG_0647.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oA_Y5dnlDUE/UaJXFK19q0I/AAAAAAAABUo/yycNILJJD7I/s1600/IMG_0648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oA_Y5dnlDUE/UaJXFK19q0I/AAAAAAAABUo/yycNILJJD7I/s200/IMG_0648.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LTZXcWIde3Y/UaJW76TdDxI/AAAAAAAABTQ/jTpsHzv6y_Q/s1600/IMG_0612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LTZXcWIde3Y/UaJW76TdDxI/AAAAAAAABTQ/jTpsHzv6y_Q/s320/IMG_0612.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The third part of the process -- <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(which I actually started first, and in-between coats of paint and layers drying, I made the paper)</i></span> -- is painting the covers. These are made out of canvas paper, which I cut down to size. The paintings on both the front and back cover were inspired by the poetry and the events from which the poetry spawned -- and of course, because of the title, Hint of a Spark -- the fire was painted last. There are a few sparks, too -- and hey those might have been the hardest to paint. The background on both covers being a portion of the night sky in a heart shape through the darkness sort of symbolizes how, when in the idea of love, people focus in. The world is small again and revolves around the people, the emotion, the idea. This is the concept of "our little corner of the universe." On the back cover, I painted a waxing moon and the characters sharing the spark, which was growing. On the front cover, a waning moon, a fire, and the characters separate from each other, but with obvious broken hearts.
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rxMo35GXdsQ/UaJaGZpucSI/AAAAAAAABVU/-8BVxVBKNTk/s1600/WP_000816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rxMo35GXdsQ/UaJaGZpucSI/AAAAAAAABVU/-8BVxVBKNTk/s200/WP_000816.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Gymg0Vzf6sg/UaJaGOM7bEI/AAAAAAAABVk/zZemxjrTpKk/s1600/WP_000816+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Gymg0Vzf6sg/UaJaGOM7bEI/AAAAAAAABVk/zZemxjrTpKk/s200/WP_000816+%25281%2529.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<span id="goog_1537059512"></span><span id="goog_1537059513"></span><br />
The next part was writing out the poems. There are 30 of them in this draft in total. All of them were written in quill pen and black ink. Some titles were written with a different sort of ink pen which was meant for calligraphy, but it did end up malfunctioning for reasons unknown towards the end of the writing-out-the-poems phase of the project. If you haven't ever tried writing with a quill and ink before -- I gotta say, it's an interesting process. You have to write slowly, carefully and not use so much pressure. Otherwise you just have ink splatters as opposed to anything else.
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XsssOlsfUhU/UaJaG2DK5PI/AAAAAAAABWA/gZud6BfbTwA/s1600/WP_000847.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XsssOlsfUhU/UaJaG2DK5PI/AAAAAAAABWA/gZud6BfbTwA/s320/WP_000847.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mSuCNK5fP3U/UaJaHCmBSkI/AAAAAAAABV4/uV8VJ4vSdx0/s1600/WP_000848.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mSuCNK5fP3U/UaJaHCmBSkI/AAAAAAAABV4/uV8VJ4vSdx0/s320/WP_000848.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rFJP-hhJZAg/UaJaH83i58I/AAAAAAAABWU/7Q59htrR9gw/s1600/WP_000851.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rFJP-hhJZAg/UaJaH83i58I/AAAAAAAABWU/7Q59htrR9gw/s200/WP_000851.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oqHUaGiGecI/UaJaHSiNA7I/AAAAAAAABWI/DW8Ij97pVZs/s1600/WP_000849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oqHUaGiGecI/UaJaHSiNA7I/AAAAAAAABWI/DW8Ij97pVZs/s200/WP_000849.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8hdPqXFOQkg/UaJaHsyrKbI/AAAAAAAABWM/2-MbDpp2SW4/s1600/WP_000850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8hdPqXFOQkg/UaJaHsyrKbI/AAAAAAAABWM/2-MbDpp2SW4/s200/WP_000850.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bhfgelj-x4o/UaJaIXuXDiI/AAAAAAAABWo/or-zA808tEI/s1600/WP_000854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bhfgelj-x4o/UaJaIXuXDiI/AAAAAAAABWo/or-zA808tEI/s200/WP_000854.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KWLSUfZ81F0/UaJaH9qE6TI/AAAAAAAABWk/EUzCT4UI-d4/s1600/WP_000852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KWLSUfZ81F0/UaJaH9qE6TI/AAAAAAAABWk/EUzCT4UI-d4/s200/WP_000852.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JFAAfi1Ameo/UaJaICOWHnI/AAAAAAAABWg/XRbuVoGKaZc/s1600/WP_000853.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JFAAfi1Ameo/UaJaICOWHnI/AAAAAAAABWg/XRbuVoGKaZc/s200/WP_000853.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The last part was stab binding the book together with a thin red ribbon. I added a bit of black lace, because I actually tore through the book at one of the hole punches. But that's okay -- the original plan was to bind the book with the red ribbon folded inside the black lace. But that did not work as I had planned. I think it turned out pretty well despite that! You can see the epigraph, the ending quote, the titles, the acknowledgements and a sample of a poem in the other photos. Also -- The ending quote page was messed up on purpose due to the nature of the poetry and the therapy that was creating this book, no matter how difficult it was. To achieve this? I shook the pen with ink on it over the page, and also dripped fresh brewed Irish breakfast tea on it, and added water circles from the bottom of the mug I was using. Just for fun.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><u><b>II. Progress</b></u></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So the book is "done" in the sense that I have finished the project for this semester. Most of the poems I would say are very polished and could well be publishable material. Some of them might need a bit of revision -- especially some of them peppered throughout that were a bit newer than others. But I think, for a first real chapbook, <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(with a PDF version of 52 pages, still 30 poems)</i></span> I have done a fair job with this. I am not writing on this subject again for a while -- not new materials, anyway. I will revise as I get more feedback on the project in general. But throughout this project I learned I am able to write in other genres of poetry. I can write personal poems that sound good enough, that read well -- that mean something to readers besides myself, even if specific locations are mentioned. The spark has nothing to do with an equation or a matching of two characters. The spark is mine. Mine to share if I want. Mine to kindle, mine to care for. It isn't the effect of someone else's cause. It's just a spark. And it's mine -- and I am taking this new vision of writing poetry and starting a new project -- one that entails being out and observing nature as best as I can, since I am moving to Oswego -- and combining the location of Oswego and all the natural places you can find even in that setting with poetry and inspiration. It'll be self-reflective as well as maybe a bit philosophical in nature. It'll be poems that locals and folks who work, live and learn in Oswego/SUNY Oswego will appreciate, if that's their cup of tea. That's my goal anyway. <br />
<br />
And last but not least? I was interviewed about my book with a friend this past semester, and our video is featured on our school website here: <a href="http://www.oswego.edu/academics/colleges_and_departments/departments/english/degree_programs/creative_writing/Courses-and-Descriptions.html">[x]</a><br />
<br /></div>
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/d3haqo08fuM?list=UUCBQH4qeiDjavnI9PTKNFRg" width="560"></iframe>K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-73966871445249100822013-04-28T19:04:00.000-04:002013-04-28T19:04:14.011-04:00How We Long for a Stay
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(Last Immersion Journal)</i></span><br /><br />I can't believe the semester's about over – I think I said that in
my last immersion journal. I have a small story I want to share –
words that I found while intensely distracted. Words that have to be
true to the core, because I barely thought of what I was saying
before I spoke. In my interview on how my chapbook was being put
together, I was asked if the fact that I don't get credit for this
assignment meant that it was less important to me than my other work. </div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I answered by saying it's never been about college credits or
grades. It's all for the poetry. It's about learning as I go. It's
about the challenge. It is me doing what I love – writing poetry.
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
College credit isn't an incentive to do well and finish the project
strong – the incentive needs to come from the subject matter. If I
am invested, then I am invested regardless of credits – and
conversely, if I am not invested the result is less interest in the
class as a whole. I think that's a commentary on me – rereading
that, it sort of seems that I am kind of a terrible student in some
aspects, but still present in order to <i>learn.</i> That's the goal,
anyway. I guess if I don't feel I'm learning anything worthwhile, I
simply act like a terrible student. </div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
But that's beside the point. The point is, it's a moment I realized
I really am a writer. Who cares if I have money? Who cares if I have
college credits? And that whole extra year in school? Not a problem.
As long as I write, for whatever reason, it'll all be okay. Maybe I'm
tearing up a bit focusing on this. Maybe it's kind of astonishing
that my brain thought of this as I really concentrated on drawing out
the letters of my poem with a quill pen. Maybe it didn't matter how
uncomfortable and difficult that actual process is... it's always
been about writing. It's interesting how much self-doubt I carry
subconsciously as a person, despite mantras of positivity. It's
interesting how often you have to tell yourself that you <i>are</i>
good enough. But you find out what really matters in moments like
this. I guess this is why some people need to be reminded before they
speak – because sometimes what really matters to your mind isn't
tactful to say out loud. </div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I want to conclude this immersion journal with one more
rhapsodomancy reading.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I ask this time – what is essential that I should know right now
in order to move forward?</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
“This flowing which is in us</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
is us – hear</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
how it rasps, sings,</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
even, not with</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
but towards its own kind</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
of staying: <i>and this, and </i>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
<i>this, and this</i></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
it whispers.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
How we long for a stay.” (Pardi pg. 23. Poem: Two Hands)</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Poetry, essentially, will tell us everything we need to know, the
more we delve into it. It is used in divination, and so it becomes a
tool to connect to our intuition. I have journeyed quite a bit on
this path, and I have tried my best to convey that which defines me
over the course of this semester. So this time I ask you – what is
this poem trying to say? What is your interpretation for me?</div>
K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-5447847590268740742013-04-22T17:53:00.001-04:002013-04-22T17:53:55.884-04:00If You Want Something Enough, Magic Works.
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I'm marveling at how little time we all have left for this semester.
Granted, part of me is wishing it was already over. My brain, once
overwhelmed, tends to do that. It's harder to want to do my other
work... I've enjoyed the poetry and the fiction so much that I'm
trying to pretend the other classes don't exist. I mean... it's not a
good plan. But I've done so much in such a short span of time that
the synapses don't even care to fire in ways that will make me pay
attention. Maybe that was a little bit of an exaggeration, but only
just so.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
So, as for my chapbook – revision is daunting. It always is. It's
a task I'm always up for – but I'm never sure when the poems are
'good enough.' I was talking to a friend and we discussed that
sometimes it's good to give your brain space and work on other
things. Maybe let the project ideas steep for a while. But college
seems, thus far, to be set up in a way where there is simply no time
to work on other things without feeling guilty for using the time
better spent completing assignments. (I hate that. Oh, do I hate
that.) In a way, it feels counterproductive – and … if I may be
so bold … <i>countercreative</i>, too.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Back to the chapbook – I look forward to writing out everything. I
can't explain why, but I love the old fashioned ink pens. I also love
the kind of paper I am using for the book – and while it's not as
“authentic looking” as writing on parchment, the ink will absorb
better and make less of a mess. And, since I'm nerd about this, I
couldn't be happier. I use the pen and ink to make sigils (like the
signature sigil on the front and back cover of my chapbook) for my
witchcraft, and have acquired a basic amount of skill in using them.
Writing, apparently, was much more difficult back in the day. I can't
yet do fancy calligraphy. The gods know my day-to-day handwriting is
atrocious enough as it is, so it's incredibly difficult to steady my
hand enough to do the fancy, artistic lettering. I'll do my best,
though. Last time, with my other book Mythopoeia, it took a
tremendous amount of effort to write out the book with regular pens.
But I know I can do this. I want the look of an old fashioned pen
being used, and so I'm going to go for it. It's all coming along
quite nicely, I think. Once it's done, I'm going to try and scan in
all the pages and make a digital copy of this one. I tried recording
myself reading some of the poems out of Mythopoeia...but in a dorm,
silence is only an abstract term used to describe the lighter din at
3-4am – recordings, then, are peppered with background noises and
echoes.
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I want to eventually make this chapbook something that could
possibly be considered for publication. Which means more than 10
poems. And I think I already do have more than 10, but maybe not
enough to make a “whole” chapbook with. One of the poems got
published in the GLR this semester. Even though I love it, and they
accepted it as-is – I almost want to cry that I didn't see ways to
revise it <i>before</i> I sent it in to them. But I think revision of
previously published pieces for a whole book is almost required. It
has to be the best representation of your poetic self there is. I
don't tend to separate my identity into smaller compartments – I am
simultaneously a witch, a poet, a pagan, a student, a psychic, a
writer, a reader, a thinker, a Pisces – it's all part of being a
<i>Katie Morton, </i>you see. So, if the poems aren't the best
representation they can be of my poetic self, they're also not the
best representation they can be of <i>me </i>as a whole. And it's
daunting. It really is. But we learn as we go, I suppose. I don't
know what it means to have a literary agent or to be published
outside of the GLR. But one day I'll figure that out. And I'll get
back to you. And I'll have more to say and more wisdom to share.
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I know from experience that if you want something enough, magic
works. If I wanted nothing else in the entire world but this, to be a
writer wholly and completely is it. I don't know what I'm getting
into entirely. I mean, even<i> I</i> can't see every consequence to
every step and action along the path. I will make progress though. Of
that, at least, I can be sure.</div>
K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-43309301152842241232013-04-07T19:52:00.001-04:002013-04-07T19:52:08.742-04:00At No Time is Change a Moment
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(Immersion Journal ~)</i></span><br /><br />In class last Thursday, I talked about Anne Carson's foreshadowing in
“Autobiography of Red,” specifically the chapter <i>“Ideas.”</i>
So why exactly <i>did</i> Herakles kill Geryon? Of course the answer
is never simple, and each time I read this book, there's something
new to be found – and new piece of the puzzle, a new answer. The
truth is, no matter what we want to believe, there are so many
different interpretations to the same questions. And the Powers that
Be will let you interpret them wrong just to make a point and help
you learn a lesson, right? (Maybe that's a bit off topic & not
just about the book.)</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
My chapbook is entitled <i>Hint of a Spark</i> which is inspired by
a small, incredibly and unfortunately relevant lyric of a song that I
once sang to the other person. So far I've completed the pages –
which are much larger than my chapbook last year, and aged by burning
and this time with coffee. The covers are painted, and the lace
ribbon has been bought for the stab-binding process. I've yet to
write out the poetry – I need to go through workshop still – but
when I do get to it, it'll be written with an old fashioned pen.
Maybe if I'm lucky, my roommate will let me borrow her feather quill
pen that she uses to write in her witch notebook – her “Book of
Shadows & Paper Magic” as she calls it. </div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /> The artwork itself
is refreshing – it's been a long time, and it feels like standing
up and stretching after sleeping when I go paint again. That's not
the challenge. What challenge I face now in constructing the book
relates to what I started this journal entry with. Why <i>did
</i>Herakles kill Geryon? Well, in one sense it's heartbreak, right?
Or, as Geryon answers in the chapter <i>“Ideas” </i> – just
violent.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Which drives home my point – It's so difficult to write
about bad things that hurt you without writing dramatically. Nobody
wants to read a poem that's so soused in emotion that all the
concrete details smear and become abstractions. At least I don't. I
marvel at poets who can subtly tell their stories and then make us
cry without outwardly screaming, “HEY EVERYONE! HEART'S BROKEN.
YEAH. PAY ATTENTION TO ME.” It's honestly a difficult task and I
don't know yet if I'm doing well.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
The good thing is that the writing
is <i>healing</i> me. And now, as I proceed and as we study Carson's
work a bit – I want to inject a bit of a story arc. I don't want it
to be Author and X specifically – I want to give the speaker in the
poem (even though she's me) more characterization and morph the X,
the other, the heartbreaker – into a character too. He starts out
like a monster – <i>Just Violent.</i> But later on, as the speaker
grows into life on the other side of a relationship, what is he then?
Does he get his name back? Or does he fade into the background?
Either way, the speaker will stand on her own again. I want the story
to kind of flow in a way that makes the reader care about the
characters and what happens to them. It's going to take some amount
of revision.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /> For Rhapsodomancy – divination via poetry –
let's ask: “How will the above-mentioned revision ideas affect my
writing process?”</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
“Look, look, look, he said, there it is, the moment is
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
changed, but at no time is change a moment. It slips in</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
between, a star seen best when you look to one side.” (Pardi pg.
37. Poem: God's Shins)</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Ah, so it's what I am bracing myself for – the much needed push in
the quite-possibly-right direction. It's going to be difficult. But
I'll start revising some that I've written outside of class and
report back on how I feel about the work next week.</div>
K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-5230971646576734712013-03-31T17:08:00.000-04:002013-03-31T17:08:01.062-04:00I'm Silent Except on Impact
<i>(Another Immersion Journal!)</i><br /><br /><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
The thing I have the most trouble with in fiction class is to not
ramble. I don't understand where that comes from – and I suppose
that's the reason I'm taking that class. To learn why this is my
tendency. I feel that, when I write fiction, I try way too hard to
get my character and story on the page and sometimes it falls short.
Actually – so often it falls short. And it takes so much time to
redraft a story once. I can redraft a poem ten times (and still not
be done with it) in the amount of time it takes to redraft a short
story once. How is it that I can tell a story in the span of a poem,
but I need more than 12 double spaced paged to tell a story in a
different genre? In Nonfiction I managed to keep it short and simple.
I wrote one recently that told the whole story in three and a half
pages. (Of course it always could do with revision – but such is
the way of writing.)</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
At first I never thought poetry would be my “thing.” But of
course, quickly it is turning out to be so. I'm not concerned what
that means for my future. The definite thing is that I will be
writing poetry – and the rest of it us uncertain at best. But it's
okay. For me, it's not about how many times I get published or how
much money I'm going to make. It's always about the art – and so
I'm a poet. It's a nice place to be. </div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Maybe I'll never change the world or peoples' minds about what
poetry can do for a reader. Maybe I won't shift the world back to a
time when reading was the thing to do. But I will get published. Be
it a few poems in a few abstract journals or a few chapbooks (I mean
the chapbook thing is my ultimate goal. I'll make it happen.) And
hopefully I can learn enough so that I can be a good fiction writer,
too.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Last week, my rhapsodomancy did indeed point out a challenge or two
that I would face. And I covered it in my interpretation – and
that's exactly what happened. I won't bore with the details –
because it's the same each time I feel “not good enough,” and the
same steps taken to recover and keep progressing. </div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
This week, I'll ask a general question: “How will my week go?” <br /><br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
“Each day (I say,</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
you see) a fall from Earth</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
to Earth, tiny</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
collisions giving me voice.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
Like a twig</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
that drops</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
I'm silent</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
except on impact.” (Pardi pg. 76. Poem: Seventeen Wings)</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
It's interesting that this same poem was subject to the
rhapsodomancy this week. You know what's coming up this week? As per
usual, so much school work. I have a 10-12 page essay due on Thursday
where pen has yet to fall to paper. I have ideas though, but if I
don't get a move on, they'll clog up my schedule and I'll feel
overwhelmed again. And I won't ask for help, even to ask my roommate
to take out the trash or to take care of the coffee filter somewhere
other than the room trashcan. I'll do it all myself, and try to make
it to class anyway on short nights of not-so-great sleep. It's the
daily grind for those of us in college. I've the urge to pretend
Monday doesn't exist, but I have to work and I should go to class,
even though I don't want to. </div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Silent, except on impact for this week means I won't be in the
business of complaining and telling stories that make my life seem
more difficult that it really is – except, of course, when (and
this is speculation as well as intuition) someone makes another
comment about how Creative Writing majors have it easy. That would be
the impact. I will not be silent then. I am getting fed up with
peoples' perspective. Because writing is not easy. It's soul
shredding – you have to really understand the futility of the path
before you, and be humble about it – otherwise you're...you're...
Stephenie Meyer...and well... really nobody wants to be her in terms
of ideas. (They just want the fame and fortune, if they're even a
little bit serious about writing. Maybe that's just my skewed and
biased opinion though. I wanted to be an editor once and still can't
fathom how she's made it so big.) Even when things seem incredibly
against the odds – you just have to keep writing anyway. </div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Another word from family or peer and I'll give them a what-for. I
won't be silent then. I suppose that's been bugging me more than it
ought to. But that goes back to last week's reading, too – that
feeling of not being enough. Sometimes on paths as difficult as this
one, the words of others crawl under your skin. It's easy to let them
affect you, and hard to realize when it'll do more good to let it go.
I'm getting better at being <i>Zen</i> as my friends called it –
breathe, meditate, and let the negative go. No use trying to heft
around the negativity on purpose. But what <i>has</i> stuck with me,
even if I try to completely be rid of it, shows as sudden irritation
at comments stabbing at what I do for schoolwork. It's <i>not </i>easy.
I don't sleep much and my work is never ending. The <i>Creative
Writing</i> part does not invalidate my degree. My path might even be
more difficult, because it's a thing I love to do, in spite of the
challenges that face me after college is over. I'm tired. Not just
because of lack of sleep. But because people are so focused on one
frame of mind... “Oh she writes. So obviously her life is much
easier than mine. I don't need a degree to prove I can write a
story...” </div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
We'll see then – one day there will be a choice between doing what
they love and making money – they've already started along the path
for simply making money. We'll see who's actually living as opposed
to existing when all is said and done.</div>
K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-15173153714485621562013-03-25T00:35:00.002-04:002013-03-25T00:35:36.534-04:00The Wrists Will Work To Break Your Fall(Another Poetry Class Immersion Entry.)<br /><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Katie Morton
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
CRW 405</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Immersion Journal #5 part II</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Sometimes it's incredibly difficult to write about an <i>actual</i>
meditation in poetic form, but many of Pardi's poems are reminiscent
of stream-of-consciousness stories – and one is even titled “Three
Meditations.” It would be safe to say that taking the word
'meditation' not as an actual zen-Buddhism-type practice, but as a
deep thought on one particular subject, all poetry can be considered
meditation. It is a focus on images, scenes that replay themselves in
memory – and I find that to be fascinating. Pardi combines both
aspects of the word very well in my opinion, and I find myself
wishing that I could do the same without sounding overly abstract. I
think it comes down to the actual meditation – how is it perceived
with the senses? It's one thing to metaphysically understand a
thought, event – even omens – but it's quite another to, as I
often do, remember the sound. Or, sight, smell, feel – and so on.
The meditation is philosophizing as to why this memory <i>is</i> and
the poetry comes <i>from that</i>. It's just so difficult to remember
the concrete details when meditation is, in and of itself, mysterious
and intangible. Life is so strange sometimes, especially for people
like me – born with the third eye open, as they say...to say the
least, indeed. There is no <i>concreteness </i>in metaphysics. Hence
the term. But all of it – everything I experience in those terms –
funnels into my poetry in one way or another. Maybe I'll never be as
great at turning meditations into concrete (or at least less
vehemently abstract) poems – but I can try. And I will continue to
try. <br /> Last week, I tempted fate by asking how my guest teaching
experience would go. My Grandma always said that one should never ask
questions that they don't want answered. Part of me really didn't
want to know – but the nervous part of me asked for peace of mind.
I'm happy to report that the experience went well – though it <i>was</i>
daunting. I was, at first, scared to death of what was to come. Of if
I was good enough at putting to practice what I have learned so that
I might help these kids. Turns out I was. After much internal
deliberation, I took one of the most helpful <i>yet most difficult</i>
activities I had experienced in Fiction II and walked these kids
through it. We wrote character bios and then, in pairs, answered
interview questions while acting like our characters.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I have to say, I hated this activity in Fiction II this semester.
Loathed it. Even skipped the 6-hour Saturday version of this with the
guest speaker, Paul Rajeckas. I never liked being center stage. I
like to be the person listening – a faux-therapist, the one with
advice. It is strange for me to be the person in need of
understanding. And as much as I hated the others getting to know my
creative process via this activity, I loved being understood for the
moment. I would never have admitted that to myself if I hadn't really
meditated on what would help me relay what I know about
characterization. I would have sat in stubborn silence but for the
grating of my teeth pretending that <i>I </i>already knew best.
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Truth is I don't. I haven't a clue what needs to happen for me to
progress. Pretending that I do and trying to stay in my comfort zone
is what brought me face to face with Necessary Chaos to begin with.
If Chaos is cutting the tether, then so be it. I will do my best, as
I did for this lesson. And oh, I can sense that a wave of changes is
about to occur. And I also know that there is no way I can possibly
prepare for it in its entirety. I've just got to go with the flow,
and let it be as it will be.
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
My strength, will, determination, and whatnot – qualities that
made Chaos smile at me and nod a head in approval before becoming
part of my life – must be enough to make it through. Otherwise,
where would I be? Probably a cashier in the local grocery store,
quiet as I used to be, not progressing a nanometer.
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
The lesson went well. It taught me a great many things, and when all
is said and done, I affected people. I am a memory, and what I said
became a lesson that I can only hope one day leads to a success –
great or small – for those who use it. In this aspect, I am enough.
And this is the first step of a great many. I will reach my goal –
but I will not reach them in a linear fashion. Along the way, I must
learn – really <i>learn</i> – that nothing is or ever will be as
it seems.
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
This week, I ask: What challenge presents itself to me in the coming
week?</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />“Think of slender hands</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
for catching, of how hard</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
the wrists will work to break your fall.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
Don't think of being born into flight.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />Think, if you can, of grace</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
and hunger</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
as the arc of falling</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
not from but into.” (Pardi pg. 69. Poem: Seventeen Wings)</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> And
again I am forced to admit something I would rather fiercely and
steadfastly deny... for this challenge is ever present and something
I fight with constantly. It is internal. It is two things. Two things
that are not so unrelated as I might think. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> The
first – speaking up. A fear not of who </span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">else</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">
will judge me but of </span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">me
</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">judging
me; a nagging thought in the back of my head that says, “What if
you're wrong? You may not be enough right now. You possibly may never
be enough to speak of this.”<br /> That voice? I have spent so long
trying to convince it that it has spoken its piece. It has said
enough. I still find my inner monologue so diluted with these grey
worries and I work to change them. Every day I work to break the old
habits and speak up. It's not easy. But I have come so far since even
Freshman year here at college. Since even last semester. I still have
to fight because it's still the most difficult of any challenge I've
yet faced.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> The
second – this heartbreak which is the inspiration for my chapbook.
As much as poetry helps me to progress through it, I have days where
memories of the past refuse to turn themselves into poems. They stick
in front of my eyes like I'm watching a movie. </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"></span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> The
last time I saw him, we watched “The Hobbit” together. It was
dinner and a movie. Call it what you will. But, my parents bought the
movie on Bluray this past week and asked me to watch it again with
them. And that's how it goes. Memories are triggered and I have to
spend time meditating and letting them go. Because my stories, too,
are heavy. And I cannot carry them and still expect to progress in my
life. This challenge, too, will rise to meet me. It will nod, and
smile just as Chaos does. It will prove to me what I am capable of.
It always seems daunting. But in this, too – I have come a long
way. I am not the late December version of me who wrapped up in her
blanket and cried as the radio played relevantly sad songs. I am the
one facing my challenges. While there is still love, and thus still
heartbreak – there is poetry. There is a certain odd beauty in such
madness. There is inspiration in such sorrow. And, there is the want
to live and move forward as opposed to exist and stay stuck in old
memories. Now those challenges? They are what I fall in to. Being
born into flight is expecting something to be exactly as I imagined
it. The arc of falling is the realization that life is hardly so
simple. The grace is knowing that nothing worth doing or learning is
ever easy. The hunger is fighting anyway, impervious to the odds. My
wrists will work just as hard as they ever have to break my fall, but
regardless I will fall. I have to. It's all part of living and
learning. </span></span>
</div>
<br />K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-73025252035902735422013-03-18T14:02:00.000-04:002013-03-18T14:02:37.181-04:00A Wind That Seems to Aim for It Alone
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(Writing Class Immersion Journal!)</i></span><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I always marvel at Pardi's version of
prose poetry. It seems so foreign to process because line breaks are
pretty natural to me, and I try to break a line where it <i>sounds</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
best. I don't yet know how to accurately describe </span><i>how</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
it sounds best – it just does. The sound of a semi colon is
different than the sound of a dash – see what I mean? I learned
that from reading Jane Hirshfield's work; it's been invaluable, to
say the least. People notice sometimes – one of my dear friends
commented that even on Facebook chat, I use the dash. I definitely
picked up the habit in writing a ten-and-some-page paper on
Hirshfield's work last time I was in Poetry III class. I quoted (and
thus typed out) whole poems to prove whatever point I was trying to
make, and with each dash I copied out of </span><i>The October
Palace,</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> I understood better how</span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">
punctuation sounds. Crazy, right? </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> So
back to Pardi's prose poetry – I have to say that I admire the
ability to craft in such a way. It still feels like a poem, but also
like a short story – flash fiction or something of the sort. Line
breaks are basically thrown out of the window in favor of the
asterisk. Stanzas are replaced by the common paragraph, and yet –
it's still so poetic. It bothers me to no end in my own writing when
a line break sounds wrong to me. I have yet to write a prose poem I
was happy with. I feel I ramble. <br /> Last week, being very stressed
out with school, I asked of a Rhapsodomancy reading if I would
continue to experience high levels of such stress. It told me, in not
so many words, that </span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">of
course </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">I
would. As if it were ever a question... And for the most part, it
turned out to be so. I have worked so hard over break thus far, and
it is only Monday in the early afternoon. I'm still sitting around in
pajamas, sipping coffee – but I have painting supplies out and book
covers to finish. Granted, I am not so stressed now that I can sleep
a little later and don't have to spend hours in classes. I still have
homework, of course – but I am relaxing a bit. And I don't have to
worry about affording food right now, which is always good. (A thank
you to the Parents...) Financial stress is one step worse than
college stress, in my opinion. (I'm trying so hard to get money
together to move from Port Jervis to Oswego and pay June's Rent. I
think I'm at $150 out of a $600 minimum goal.) I canceled my weekly
“Saturday Divination” in which I read cards or runes for some
friends who read my Tumblr blog, four or five on Saturday – and
then I type up the interpretations and provide a photo of the cards.
I pushed those back to the weekend after spring break in hopes it
would reduce stress. Funny story – everything got worse. I got
assigned a few more things to pile on top of everything I already
have. For my English class, I am looked at with the notion that I
alone can actually read half a book in a week and understand what's
going on well enough to write a whole essay. For my Anthropology
classes, I now have to find a few more hours to read closely, because
weekly quizzes are becoming commonplace where they weren't earlier in
the semester. I was able to skim the readings and converse in class
before – and no longer. Of course it has to do with my mind frame –
my metaphysical studies </span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">must
always</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">
come first. Once they don't, the world starts to fall down over my
shoulders. But I might compare myself to Atlas just for now – just
for a little while – if it helps me get through it. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> For
this week's reading, I ask: “How will my guest teaching experience
go this week?”<br /> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<span style="text-decoration: none;">“<span style="font-style: normal;">grackles
twirling like kites</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">but
without the strings</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">to
untangle afterwards</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">and
the boy cutting each one loose</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">save
his favorite, which he fastens</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">to
a park bench, leaves aloft,</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">into
the night, with a wind</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">that
seems to aim for it alone – how</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">like
a tree after emptying</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">the
world then seems – between risen</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">and
fallen</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">what,
in place, remains.” (Pardi pg. 24. Poem: Two Hands)</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> What
a strange reading, and a strange interpretation I have... to be sure
the experience will be daunting, and just like at every presentation,
I will be internally frightened – perhaps like said grackle caught
on a string. I'm understanding that these events are necessary chaos.
Did I mention Loki ever before? On my path previously, I tended to
play it safe and not project my voice. I didn't want to speak. I was
all for reading and writing, and not being noticed too much. Perhaps
a part of me once believed that I had nothing worth saying. I took
difficult situations and tried to make sense of them based on things
that were already tried and true – by the book, academically. Of
course, in Metaphysical Studies, none of what is by-the-book is ever
going to work for every single person. So, long story short,
Necessary Chaos decided to find His way onto my path very recently.
Maybe it's helped. Maybe it's just craziness. He would probably be
the boy cutting loose grackles – except for the one attached that
needs a dose of change. Is the wind that chaotic to a bird? Yes. And
also No. And I think that's the lesson that I need to be paying
attention to as I try something radically new this week. I'll report
back in Part II (Yes, a second #5 journal) after returning to campus
on Sunday.</span></span></div>
K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-84403961457019263722013-03-11T00:59:00.005-04:002013-03-11T12:51:13.764-04:00The Part of You That Fails To Notice Birds are Watching<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(A continuation of the Immersion Journal assignment)</i></span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
How is it that I interact with poetry?
Everything that I experience is sort of encoded into a sound. That's
how I remember, for the most part. Tell me “Katie: Remember <i>X</i>”
and I'll do my best to remember it. Write it down and pass me the
sheet of paper, though, and I find myself less likely to be able to
parrot it back after a somewhat extended period of time. In reading
books, I envision the sound of the narrator's voice, often differently than my own voice reading aloud. That said, when I read poems, I first look for
elements of sound as I read that I love. After the initial read, I go
back and find elements of narrative, which usually links back to the
sound elements that I admire most. If I really like the content and
the sound, I'll reread the poem several times. We were told for this
journal entry to read Lucie Brock-Broido's poetry first– and I will
read it, but today is not that day. I want to focus on what I
mentioned about sound and memory – </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
The poem, out of all that
I've read for this class and others, that sticks out to me best in
these terms was “Leaving Angelo.” I loved reading that one out
loud the last time I took Poetry III – and to be honest, it was
probably the first experience I had where I felt comfortable (as in,
not as incredibly nervous) to speak/read in class. The way the words
and repetition were used to create sound that related to content was
masterful. It was with this poem that I decided I would have to focus
more on how sound is an essential building block for poetry. It
wasn't long after this that I fell in love with slant and near rhymes
– and, as they say, a monster was created. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I wouldn't trade it for the world
though. To be honest, before Poetry II, I wouldn't have thought
myself much of a poet. I didn't read poetry. I didn't write it with
the intent that it would be read by anyone. I didn't think that one
day, two poems that I wrote would be published in the school's
literary journal. I certainly didn't think that on the same day, I
would then read one of them in River's End Bookstore. In front of
everyone, hands shaking, curls escaping from my hair tie, but feet
flat on the ground, feigning confidence. I was terrified, but
according to the video that was captured of me by a dear friend, my
voice was – for once – steady. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So, all of this – this adds to how
and why I approach poetry. I read it because, like me, these authors
started somewhere. They may have felt small, maybe felt nervous.
Maybe at first thought there was no possible way that they could ever
consider themselves poets. So I read. Not just because I must, but
because that's how their voice is heard. In the way they write, in
what they choose to publish. Word choice and the sound those words
make in my mind either stick, or they don't. But the point is, the
author was trying to tell me something – maybe in hopes I'd learn.
Maybe in hopes their efforts were never in vain. I keep telling
myself that one day, I'll be in their shoes. I keep reading, hoping
that one day there will be an equivocation, and my work will never
have been in vain. That my words are heard in the mind of some
struggling college student, and mean something. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Last week's Rhapsodomancy reading
consisted of quite a number of stanzas and quite a revelation for me.
Looking back at what I've written in the past week – poetry wise,
of course, midterm-panic-mode aside, have indeed been inspired by
heartbreak and moving past it. I don't think I'm at a level where my
poetry can be considered serious. I leave too many of my own emotions
on the page so that sometimes, if I figure a way to read objectively,
it feels awash with drama and needs to be toned down a bit. But I'm
trying and am constantly inspired to keep trying. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The first poem I wrote on this subject
matter was on the train home from Maine. Once I hit Penn Station in
New York City, I was in the sort of emotional mode where the
heart-breaker is the villain and all you want to do is curse them and
their entire lineage for their absurdly stupid and obviously
shortsighted and shallow behavior. For Yule, <i>he</i> had given me a
little moleskine notebook with artwork from Tolkien's “The
Hobbit.” As I flip back through the pages, I see the drama seeping
out of the words until the poems are more about moving forward, than
being hurt and angry. It won't be perfect, because a poem isn't ever
really “finished.” But I'm trying to drain the dramatic language
and pick words that are intense, but not so overwhelming – and this
correlates to my own way of viewing the situation at hand, anyway.
I'm not one to depend on anyone, especially not when it comes to my
own peace and happiness. Just like Sarah in the movie Labyrinth, all
I need to move forward is that one line that's sometimes so hard to
remember: “<i>You have no power over me.</i>” That in and of
itself may or may not have just sparked another poem. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
For this
week's Rhapsodomancy, I'm asking: Will I continue to be overwhelmed
by school work, and how might I overcome such stress in the coming
week?
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<br />
“Let me tell
you about the ego, they say: imagine</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
pages, loose and
scattered, the reader stepping</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
from one to the
next, at times over a great distance,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
cobbling together
a sequence, the wind revealing</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
flipsides with
graphs or maps, page numbers</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
in cuneiform.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
The ego is the
part of you that fails to notice</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
birds</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
are watching.”
(Pardi Pg. 45. Poem: Three Meditations)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was extremely happy to get this
reading, because intuition flooded from the verse up to my mind and
told me that A.) <i>Of course you will be overwhelmed, this is
</i><i><b>college</b></i><i> for crying out loud.</i> – and B.)
<i>Remember that you are human. You fail to see that each page –
nay – each word is a stepping stone for your future in moments of
stress and anxiety. If you think for one moment that the universe
revolves around you, it will remind you quickly enough how it is that
things work around here. Birds are watching, after all.</i> </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
So I
would interpret the ego as such: My stress. In moments of being
overwhelmed, stress is inevitable. I've been teaching myself to let
it go the best I can, because stress is heavy. And as the reading
goes, it also very much clouds your judgment – to the point where
understanding why things are happening becomes such a challenge
(great distance) that we fail to learn anything and have to learn the
same life lesson over again until we figure out how to deal with such
stress. That's life. Birds here? Well. Birds could be many things –
but I'd think that, especially with how my intuitive self picked up
this reading – they could symbolize fate or Gods, always watching
each step made on the path. Some would call it crazy, but all the
things that have happened to me in ten years of Paganism and
Witchcraft made it so there's no need to believe in what others call
“higher power” or “magic.” I don't need to believe because I
know. And while my proof wouldn't count for others, there's no use in
trying to convince another. I walk my path, and am allowed mistakes
because elsewise there'd not be much to learn in life. This week, due
to being overwhelmed, I pushed back my Saturday Divination (Free
Tarot, etc readings for folks who follow my Tumblr blog.) At the
moment, my main concern is practicing psychic things, and
understanding divinatory tools is a big part of that – and so
perhaps this decision was made while “<i>failing to notice birds
are watching.</i>”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
I will reflect on how things go this next
coming week – mid-term panic will be over, and maybe then I can
give a more cohesive example of how stress affected me and how I may
have overcame it – instead of just theorizing.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-62350311335869867912013-03-04T17:21:00.004-05:002013-03-04T17:21:35.120-05:003 Weeks of Immersion Journals(Hello All! These were posted as assignments for the last three weeks and I wanted to share them with you!) <br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Immersion Journal #1</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Rhapsodomancy is the use of poetry for
divination – something I've barely any practice at and something
I'd like to pursue. Poetry, like song lyrics, can occasionally be
incredibly meaningful. Divination pulls an intuitive personal
interpretation from tools used in order to predict future or to
reveal an unknown aspect of the querent's personality. For each
journal entry, I'll do a rhapsodomancy reading out of Pardi's
<i>“Meditations on Rising and Falling”</i> for myself and
interpret what it could mean. I will reflect on the goings-on each
week based on the previous reading as well.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In order to do a rhapsodomancy
reading, one must change their frame of mind. What is possible in
this new world-view? Do you believe in coincidence? Do you believe in
intuition? Close your eyes. Think loudly of what it is you really
want to know, and open the book. Where your eyes fall first, read
until either the end of that section/stanza/paragraph/page or until
you feel the message is over, and the time to stop reading is right.
Record it. Keep it in mind. Think of what you have planned and what
you really want to experience and learn sometime in the future.
Poetry holds more secrets than many of us can imagine – more so
than even the author may have intended. Classically, books of poetry
such as “The Illiad” would be use to these ends, but for this day
and age, and specifically for me – I'll be using modern poetry.
This is my immersion – this is combining two art forms and living
life by it. There is no way two readings will be the same each week,
but I may veer off and speak of other things that may relate back to
previous readings.<br />
So what forms a good question for any form of
divination? It's tough to say exactly, but for this week, I'll simply
ask how my week will conclude:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<br />
“Younger:
Have I seen one of those before?<br />
Older: No, never.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
Younger: Should I
be excited? <br />
Older: Yes!” (Pardi pg. 78 from the poem
<i>“Seventeen Wings”</i>)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My plans included stopping down at the
Metaphysical store, The Fey Dragon right on bridge street. That would
be Sunday afternoon. Perhaps the <i>“Younger”</i> is me and the
<i>“Older”</i> is Mary, she who owns the store and has previously
guided me in developing my own abilities and in other aspects. If we
speak in terms of writing, it could be about revisions of old
projects. That's entirely possible – poetry is what calms me down.
It's my go-to procrastination when everything seems to be falling
down over my shoulders. It's strange – I see people who would do
anything else but pick up a book or pen when school stresses them
out, but not me. I'd rather forsake the text books and do what I do
best – read and write. Maybe this stanza will hint at what is to
come for me; a revelation. The younger work to be greeted by new,
older eyes.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So first, we must assume that my week
will conclude – my grandmother always said that we should live as
though we believed tomorrow's never guaranteed. And in that respect,
we also assume that I will keep my eyes open, for a new possibility
is standing at week's end. In that much I can be certain.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This reminds me of something – the
way that poems start for me is a lot like how intuition works for
readings. First it's just a tiny spark in my skull – like an idea
moving from point A to point B. The idea explodes into thought via a
bit of intuition and a little listening. Tune out the self-doubt and
start thinking, and we have a thought – which eventually becomes an
interpretation (for divination) or a concept (for poetry.) When we
write it out, the words solidify and become a memory or an omen (for
divination) or an actual poem. It all connects. I'll have more to
write on next week to share what actually will go on this weekend.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Immersion Journal #2</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I appreciate the use of dialogue in
Pardi's poems. Actually, one of my favorites in the entire collection
is <i>“Drinking with my Father in London.”</i> The end, where the
father says <i>“next time you get to be the whole damn flock”</i>
is quite possibly the strongest line of poetry dialogue I've seen to
date. I love it. I can't explain exactly why it works so well – but
I envy the author, to be sure.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I just recently entered the Creative
Writing awards contest, and on the side, between assignments and work
and class and finding time to sleep – I wrote a nonfiction piece
chronicling a few memories and emotions from my winter break
expedition to Maine. Entitled, “This Too Shall Pass,” I chose not
to include names or dialogue for the persons involved, besides the
narrator. Being that it was essentially about dealing with unrequited
love, it was a move more towards structure, to not include the
dialogue and the friend's name. The piece is about beginning to move
forward. Still, in reading Pardi's work and getting a little feedback
from friends on my work, I think I may try the revise in scenes and
details for this piece. Dialogue is always so strong. Even the most
simple phrases can result in tears – be in real life, or on paper.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Last week, I did a Rhapsodomancy
reading for myself. I did indeed end up walking down to the Fey
Dragon this Sunday. I did indeed end up learning something new about
myself – via guided meditation. Mary showed me how to visualize
that which blocks progress forward by using meditative techniques I
had never seen before. What do ya know? With this new knowledge about
the craft of guided meditation and about myself, I can progress. The
block's name was Fear. That which replaces fear is named Confidence.
It would take a few more pages to describe exactly what went on
inside my mind to find this information – but instead I shall carry
this lesson with me and teach it to The Oswego State Pagan
Association.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For this week's reading, I'm asking:
In what ways can I expect to progress this week? </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.49in;">
“In place of a
leaf, an absence.<br />
Autumnal drool, slow slide from unevenness</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.49in;">
to
un-unevenness.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.49in;">
A thing that must
break</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.49in;">
is bending.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.49in;">
In truth there
are just three seasons –
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.49in;">
rising,
falling,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.49in;">
and
incandescence.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.49in;">
Try. Try falling
when it's your turn to float.” (Pardi pg. 48 from the poem <i>“Three
Meditations”</i>)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Maybe this reflects back on what I
learned this week – that confidence replaces fear. Perhaps this is
telling me that it is okay to not know exactly what is ahead of me.
To fall may not be a bad thing, because in all perceived failure,
there is a lesson to be learned. Perhaps this means a lesson is
heading my direction. The things that must break are my old habits,
my old frames of mind – piles of old stresses I put on myself.
Rising to a challenge causes stress. Stress causes falling. Standing
once again after a fall is incandescence. So we shall see what
progress I make and in what ways come next week and next journal
entry.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Immersion Journal #3</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Pardi's poems, obviously, have a lot
to do with birds, flying, rising and falling – it's perfect. I
never forgot the pencil to birdseed image in the first poem of the
book, “Here.” The reason I mention this is because I am an
admitted lover of birds. In my room, I have four budgies. (Americans
call them Parakeets, but the term 'parakeet' is just a classification
of parrots, really.) The fourth one came along today as a birthday
present to myself. <br />
I wrote a couple of pieces the last time I
was in Poetry III class. One focused on the sight of a little yellow
down feather floating down to land on my glasses – a fluffy blur
right in my line of vision. The other focused on the image of a tiny
green parakeet calling out in response to the hunger call of a pretty
large seagull. My birds – they're all about community. They're
about, generally speaking, large groups and camaraderie. They are not
afraid in the least to let their voice be heard. For tiny creatures,
they are intelligent and so expressive. They inspire me with the way
they respond to the world around them. Nothing is ever boring or
dull. There's always something to be curious about. Always something
to watch with a wary eye. For these birds, nothing is fun if you
don't have a friend to share it with.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I work alone so much, but a wise
person said that sometimes, it really is best to share your work with
others. Maybe part of me is afraid what I write is never good enough.
But I think I'm getting better at trusting <i>me</i>. In trusting the
art is worth sharing.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Last week, I did a rhapsodomancy
reading out of Pardi's book, and it alluded to big changes for me.
Reporting back, I have to say that something is indeed breaking –
my mind frames of thinking that I am not enough – something so many
of us struggle with. Not only am I becoming more open to sharing my
work, but I've been told lately that I am leading the organization I
started quite well. I've been working so hard on my Pagan and
Metaphysical studies that I now have so much more information and
research to share with OSPA. My hope is that I can make enough of a
difference so that when I graduate, until I come back to be a
Professor (and thus advise the club...), OSPA will survive.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This week, I'm going to ask: in what
ways will I be inspired?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
“Having been there before, he
returned, only to find one<br />
step fewer than before. Squirrels
curled like commas</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
marked the way, light falling hard on
the softness of</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
smoke. The next time: one step fewer.
And so it hap-</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
pened, until the moment in between
had been discarded.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Before flowering, a leveling, he
though. Before flowering,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
an eradication.<br />
*</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Everywhere he turns, it returns.<br />
*</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She'd left a trail of seeds along the
way, but that was</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
long ago. For years she's wondered
which will be the</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
first to go, birdsong or bird? When
it's time for her to</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
return, the seeds have sprouted,
grown tall. What was</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
cut into shade now colludes with it.
She makes her way</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
from tree to tree, slaloming.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Song of one who leaves:<br />
I'll
believe it when I see it.” (Pardi pg. 51. Poem: Seven Parables of
Return.)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lately I've been trying to switch
genres a bit to test my limit and to test how to constrain emotion,
especially in poems about unrequited love and such difficulties. They
are mostly based in personal experience, and writing has helped me
cope with it – has helped me, for the most part, be at peace with
events.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The past is always riddled with
disappointment. But, in such disappointment, great lessons reside.
Great inspiration is sourced in the lessons that teach us who we are
as people. So, yes. Heartbreak has been awful. But it's also been
inspirational. It's gone back to what last week's reading said – 'a
thing that must break is bending.' I have changed; there is a new
strength in me. And perhaps what this poem means is that I will be
inspired more by the partings I have experienced more so than the
hope of returning to what once was. The song of one who leaves would
be of melancholy – of not understanding how rare the connection
left behind really was. I will reflect on this reading in the next
journal, and see if this understanding significantly inspires one or
more pieces of writing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-53661025220191940892013-02-21T02:17:00.002-05:002013-02-21T03:24:44.750-05:00In Greeting a New Deck<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DPKV7YNnzkU/USXBHq-EXqI/AAAAAAAABIQ/JJACtMksGro/s1600/I_Ching_Holitzka.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DPKV7YNnzkU/USXBHq-EXqI/AAAAAAAABIQ/JJACtMksGro/s400/I_Ching_Holitzka.jpg" width="366" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">|Credit: <a href="http://www.lepalaisdutarot.com/YiKingE.htm">[x]</a>|</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Today, I decided that I would try and figure out how to work with the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/I-Ching-Holitzka-Deck-Games-Systems/dp/1572811161/">I Ching cards</a> I came across. This <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/069109750X/">system of divination</a> is ancient and steeped in Chinese mythology. It's called the Book of changes. And ever since I bought that <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Kuan-Yin-Oracle-Alana-Fairchild/dp/0987204181/">Kuan Yin oracle deck</a> because of how beautiful the art work and messages were -- from <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Fey-Dragon/57334520758">The Fey Dragon</a> almost a month ago now -- I've been coming across so many eastern forms of spirituality. Like it's been popping up out of nowhere. I don't look for them. They just appear, and usually in the form of a quote or article on philosophy that I really needed the most. I don't want to appropriate the culture...so I've taken to really researching before I consider even devoting myself to these mythologies. It's not my place. But it's certainly calling. And I've been appreciative of the zen philosophies since my bout with depression. I've practiced some forms of meditation since I learned that it would aid me in shielding -- and that was before I knew what Empaths were, that I was indeed one of high sensitivity, and how shielding had been helping me manage. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
The I Ching though -- if any form of divination could make me feel like crying, this one is it. I have this strange, but useful habit of introducing myself to a new deck of cards -- be they tarot, oracle, Lenormand -- what-have-you. Even my set of the Runes and my Pendulum got a bit of an introductory message from me. For this, just like any other deck, I asked it what IT thought of me in terms of being a reader, a witch -- a psychic. I'll share with you my reading. Credit for below representations: <a href="http://www.psychic-revelation.com/">[x]</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-67PKgy9N2-k/USXBHeXXh7I/AAAAAAAABIM/UP6KVY_le80/s1600/i_ching_48_ching.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-67PKgy9N2-k/USXBHeXXh7I/AAAAAAAABIM/UP6KVY_le80/s200/i_ching_48_ching.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FMuhUBIofRc/USXBHflUw2I/AAAAAAAABII/TQbfVTiMILU/s1600/i_ching_58_tui.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FMuhUBIofRc/USXBHflUw2I/AAAAAAAABII/TQbfVTiMILU/s200/i_ching_58_tui.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I. Left One: 58, The Joyful / The Lake<br />
<br />
II. Right One: 48, The Well<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You read card I first, then II and then the lines of difference, in this case (from the bottom) 1, 3, 4. The I represents now, while II represents the future and the lines of change represents direction.<br />
<br />
<u><b>The Reading:</b></u><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>* All quotes are from the little white book that came with the deck, as written by Klaus Holitzka.</i></span><br />
<br />
I. "Greatness...comes through joy. All the more is achieved with cheerful composure rather than grim earnestness. Your lightheartedness will rarely slip into arrogance if you remain aware of the seriousness of the situation. You feel committed to your ideals within."<br />
<br />
II. "The Well symbolizes a deep and inexhaustible fullness of being from which every person creates meaning in life...we need to find the source of our true nature in order to reach fulfillment.Clarify your real desires, yearnings and needs. Push on ahead to the real and true values of life rather than sticking to superficial norms. In your inner core lies the source of your strength and clarity."<br />
<br />
Line 1: "You are preoccupied with things not worthy of your consideration. Thus you are losing contact with your true needs and goals."<br />
<br />
Line 3: "You would very much like to put your aptitude and abilities to use. You feel underestimated and this rankles you. Beware of negative emotions. Your day will come."<br />
<br />
Line 4: "You should now retreat and make contact with your own inner being. First get your spiritual life in order before trying to achieve important things for other people." <br />
<br />
<u><b>My Two-Cents:</b></u><br />
<br />
Honestly, this is perfect. The cards judge me well, right off the bat. The direction refers to me predominantly focusing on the fact that I am alone<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i> (romantically speaking)</i></span> -- seeking love, instead of letting it find me and focusing on studying my metaphysics like I should. Also, I've been getting frustrated with lack of direction in developing clairaudience. <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><b>(UPG Ahoy, guys)</b></i></span> I've been told by Loki that not everything is from a book. Not everything should be taken academically. Lots of things have to be trial and error and until I learn how to look at things more freely, let go of the planning and the schedules -- and let myself be just a bit more spontaneous, he's gonna stick around and mix things up when he wants. I get confused about chaos magic, other psychic things and energy work. I feel like I stumble and might fall into some vast unknown if I keep walking around blindly. But maybe that's not the case, as these cards are also telling me. Last -- as you've heard -- I am an Empath. I have a hard time not wanting to help people, which means being that go-to advice giver and listener. I would gladly talk for ages and not do any homework if it meant the other person could work through their stresses. It doesn't bother me. I love to help people and I love to be that go-to advice giver. But meditation is required. To become more aware, I need to focus on my path and what that actually means for me -- it's been a journey to get to this radical self-love state of being. But there's more path to walk, especially in terms of my psychic abilities. I scare myself sometimes, but I trust my intuition. It has <i><b>never </b></i>failed me. The cards respect me, I think. But, in order to progress, metaphysics has to preside over my trivial matters like "finding love," or doubting if I understand or if a theory is worth the energy it will take to test it and figure out if it's something that works for me. Or perhaps this might also hint that I stop being fearful of delving into research of eastern ways of thinking -- like I said before, I do not wish to appropriate or steal sacred practices from other cultures that are not sharing. Like I said earlier, I am being called. I keep stumbling upon information when I'm not even looking. Do the cards say it's time to step forward? If so, then I will -- just to see how this goes.K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-10306265774003503752013-02-17T22:28:00.004-05:002013-02-17T22:28:45.703-05:00Divination in Excess<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YTrPMFVrnGQ/USGXZSBpQyI/AAAAAAAABGs/H7xE2RjTLec/s1600/the_tarot_by_onyxiia_dragon-d3b8qt9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YTrPMFVrnGQ/USGXZSBpQyI/AAAAAAAABGs/H7xE2RjTLec/s400/the_tarot_by_onyxiia_dragon-d3b8qt9.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">|Credit: <a href="http://onyxiia-dragon.deviantart.com/art/The-Tarot-200282301">[x]</a>|</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Well, maybe excess is a bit of a strong word, but I wanted to share what went on this weekend! I decided to <a href="http://kmalleena.tumblr.com/divination">open divination readings</a> on my Tumblr just to practice the art of it. I have to force myself to make time for it because college keeps me busy, as you may have noticed from my blurbs this week. <br /><br />This was the first of Saturday Divination for me, and I took a few too many requests -- honestly the choice was between homework and divination. So the choice wasn't actually much of a choice, hehe. But I finished typing it all out just before The Walking Dead started at 9pm. I didn't do a single shred of homework, and again I am behind. That is entirely my fault, however. <br /><br />I think the practice is worth it. I love any form I can learn and practice, and besides that -- I'm the kind of person who likes to help. I also love when people respond with feedback as to the level of accuracy. That's the best part of it all. To know that someone, somewhere was helped.<br />
<br />But this week, not only is O.S.P.A. doing a workshop on Divination Tools, but I am also presenting on the Tarot on Thursday for a poetry art and writing project. Oh and not to mention, Rhapsodomancy practice for the blogs that will be due for poetry... this ought to be fun. I like how life opens up with opportunities right after the choice is made to immerse in divination -- that's pretty awesome.<br />
<br />But I'm done rambling for now. I'll write again soon! Thank you for dealing with my awful schedule this semester!K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-78508698521379150852013-02-14T23:58:00.004-05:002013-02-14T23:58:45.699-05:00Homework and HilaritySo tonight is/was Valentine's day. <br /><br />And for some, that means a night of romance. But apparently for my roomie and her boyfriend, this means hysterical jokes and laughing all night. It is now that I begin my homework due tomorrow. Again the blog suffers. But I will try to write a meaningful post sometime soon!K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-12923762824904964242013-02-13T01:12:00.002-05:002013-02-13T01:12:47.743-05:00Another Blurb About Time Well WastedHello all! <br /><br />Today's update? Still not done with homework and it's 1am! Oh such is the life of a college student. I'm also writing like mad for the upcoming Creative Writing contest and also to submit to our campus literary journal, the Great Lake Review. I got an email the other day that also said SUNY Geneseo's literary journal, the Gandy Dancer is accepting SUNY-wide submission. I'm definitely going to try for that one too.<br />
<br />For outside of class writing -- now I'm working on revisions to poetry and a nonfiction pieces, as well as writing new poetry whenever I have a spare moment. Not only that, but "A Harrowing Path" is still in the works, however slowly. I've got all these great ideas going on for it, but lack sufficient time to type the written work up. For class though, my short story "Son of Dragons" is up for workshop soon...hopefully that goes over well. I'll also workshop "Where Lightning Rends Waves" next while I'm writing my third story, which I have no idea about a title yet. That's a constant-in-progress thing.<br />
<br />
Anyway. I had better get back to homework. Soon I shall blog something worthwhile.K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-15365525146128050262013-02-12T01:50:00.001-05:002013-02-12T01:50:41.752-05:00And School Calls Again!Hello all! I just wanted to blurb and say that <a href="http://www.ospa.tumblr.com/">O.S.P.A.</a> went so well today ~ It was the first meet of the semester. Only I'm just now sitting down to finish homework due tomorrow. I'll make up for all these short, spastic blurbs with something hopefully awesome as soon as physically and mentally possible!K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-37514665156774107502013-02-10T18:51:00.003-05:002013-02-10T18:51:38.537-05:00Coffee Makes Everything Better<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r0vQS7CEAP0/URgySjrzL1I/AAAAAAAABCo/Xp9GDGLYXSk/s1600/I+NEED+COFFEE.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="328" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r0vQS7CEAP0/URgySjrzL1I/AAAAAAAABCo/Xp9GDGLYXSk/s400/I+NEED+COFFEE.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(Hello everyone! This is the Fiction II class 'Artist Date' for this week! Enjoy the nonfiction!)</i></span><br /><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
You know how sometimes you find
yourself on a date with a really awkward person? Kinds that are very
hard to understand or seem to be speaking in a strange, nonsensical
mode of English? Well, that would be me on my artist date with myself
– on a morning without coffee. Today I saw the world through
under-caffeinated eyes. I don't even understand why this idea even
popped into my head – it is ludicrous, at best. I woke up as the
morning was shifting to afternoon and decided not to make myself a
cup of coffee – I wanted to see how this would affect my worldview
in all seriousness.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I sat until about half past three
trying to focus on homework. I had no problems, to be honest. I got a
small amount of work done for this class and for another. I would've
liked to have written more poetry, but I noticed right away that my
brain was not cooperating creatively. It was all fuzz and grey. I
decided the best way to finish this awful artist date was to go to
Lake Effect Café to remedy the lack-of-caffeine problem, and to see
what the outside world would look like on a random Sunday. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Well, I
was lucky that traffic was not a problem, because under the
circumstances, I was disillusioned. Usually I look up in wonder at
the sky and the trees – but not today. I was cold, and the world
was not as interesting as the prospect of a coffee and a good book. I
think the day itself alludes to the fact that I indeed have a much
larger problem. I've been chattering about how coffee makes
everything better – because it does – but ignoring that I'm a
sorry addict to the beverage.</div>
<br />K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-5108057123891036502013-02-10T01:48:00.002-05:002013-02-10T01:51:45.287-05:00Graze.com Healthy Snacky Stuff<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zHsJxSBt1GE/URc6oLT81KI/AAAAAAAAA-4/_aELSav-qGQ/s1600/graze+image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="338" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zHsJxSBt1GE/URc6oLT81KI/AAAAAAAAA-4/_aELSav-qGQ/s400/graze+image.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
So hey! I got my <a href="https://www.graze.com/us/products">graze.com</a> box in the mail the other day. And I have to say. It really is fabulous. I was supposed to write about this much sooner, but I wanted to try all the food first. <br />
<br />
The idea behind graze.com is that you'd order these boxes <i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(which, I might add, are only $5 for an actually awesome amount of healthy food)</span></i> and you'd have four presumably "unhealthy" snacks replaced with healthy food. I prefer healthy food now-a-days anyway, so this is just an inexpensive way for me to afford to actually have snacks. Because at the store such a thing would be about $5 for a single snack, as you know.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pYaLZ4HuHBU/URc77gHvNEI/AAAAAAAAA_E/CsRwjykiCew/s1600/WP_000515.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pYaLZ4HuHBU/URc77gHvNEI/AAAAAAAAA_E/CsRwjykiCew/s200/WP_000515.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hvF-2BLvpfE/URc77hE8aDI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/xi372ODs5Xg/s1600/WP_000516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hvF-2BLvpfE/URc77hE8aDI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/xi372ODs5Xg/s200/WP_000516.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zCzb7Pt8Ico/URc79Mv43iI/AAAAAAAAA_c/l9IN_WKd7qY/s1600/WP_000558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zCzb7Pt8Ico/URc79Mv43iI/AAAAAAAAA_c/l9IN_WKd7qY/s200/WP_000558.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JjwV63d7bBc/URc78Bj6v_I/AAAAAAAAA_M/6WK-imDYReU/s1600/WP_000518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JjwV63d7bBc/URc78Bj6v_I/AAAAAAAAA_M/6WK-imDYReU/s200/WP_000518.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3kL5vrbtK-g/URc78ZMzk7I/AAAAAAAAA_Y/envX8aBdoFc/s1600/WP_000519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3kL5vrbtK-g/URc78ZMzk7I/AAAAAAAAA_Y/envX8aBdoFc/s200/WP_000519.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xMAMQOJuKf8/URc78hUgOMI/AAAAAAAAA_U/qqq_Bu2RhXg/s1600/WP_000520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xMAMQOJuKf8/URc78hUgOMI/AAAAAAAAA_U/qqq_Bu2RhXg/s200/WP_000520.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tiw0Zejvb9Q/URc77uHtBqI/AAAAAAAAA_I/UCRv_CqHXSE/s1600/WP_000517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tiw0Zejvb9Q/URc77uHtBqI/AAAAAAAAA_I/UCRv_CqHXSE/s200/WP_000517.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I think the idea is perfect, and it kind of is a big help. I don't usually have a lot of food on hand, due to money issues and issues getting off campus what with my hectic schedule. But once a week, this comes right in the mail, and that's four days that I can have a snack at work or what not. Perfect. <br /><br />When they send snacks, it's all kind of a luck of the draw. You can rate what kind of snacks you prefer on the site once you sign up with a code. The first and fifth box is free, but you'll have to find a code first. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><i>(And you'll need to search around on Tumblr if you need a code, because my four were all used up by now.)</i></b></span> There is this chocolate covered honeycomb thing I really want to try, but I don't get to pick exactly what goes in. I like the randomness of it -- it's novel. <br /><br />So this week, I had <a href="http://www.graze.com/us/products/692/florentine">Florentine</a>, <a href="http://www.graze.com/us/products/794/nacho-libre">Nacho Libre</a>, <a href="http://www.graze.com/us/products/747/tutti-frutti">Tutti Frutti</a>, and <a href="http://www.graze.com/us/products/721/mississippi-bbq-pistachios">Mississippi BBQ Pistachios</a>. <br />
<br />- Florentine was my favorite. It consists of aforementioned dark chocolate, cranberries and pumpkin seeds. It's pretty much perfect and the combination all works well together.<br />
<br />- Nacho Libre is considered among the 'light' version of the already healthy stuff they send. I really loved the salsa almonds. It's just spicy enough.<br />
<br />
- I am not so much a fan of pistachios because of how you have to open them and all... but this recipe was worth it. Not too salty.<br />
<br />
- I liked the Tutti Frutti, especially the pineapple. I think the blueberry infused cranberries were unique! I am neutral about it though.<br />
<br />
These are best enjoyed with tea, I have to say. Although coffee...coffee and health food... seems like a legitimate combination.<br />
<br />But anyway, I don't review stuff much. I just wanted to get the word out about this! Hopefully some of you can join! (:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><!--3-->K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-41211990944954739972013-02-08T16:57:00.001-05:002013-02-08T16:57:38.306-05:00Little Pagan Things<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RPgs6jNuZwc/URVc3vvGv6I/AAAAAAAAA-Y/YcQEV_tgmTY/s1600/The_breathing_of_God____by_Inebriantia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RPgs6jNuZwc/URVc3vvGv6I/AAAAAAAAA-Y/YcQEV_tgmTY/s400/The_breathing_of_God____by_Inebriantia.jpg" width="305" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">|Credit: <a href="http://inebriantia.deviantart.com/art/The-breathing-of-God-12107174">[x]</a>|</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I love to read about other people's <a href="http://theinformedpagan.wordpress.com/2011/12/02/weekly-tip-upg/">UPGs</a> on tumblr, because by the way I view things, all stories are interesting and there is always something to be learned from shared experiences. But somehow I get a little apprehensive about my UPG. And I don't write out huge posts in regards to that usually. But I read an <a href="http://lokavinr.tumblr.com/post/42597426316/i-dont-honor-loki-but">amazing post</a> today. And I figured it wouldn't hurt to share.<br />
<br />
I don't worship gods exactly the same as other people do -- because when I started out I was looking for a different way to understand things. I didn't know, back in my time spent studying fluffy Wicca books, exactly what it was I wanted to understand. I set out offerings, researched and spoke/prayed to deities, but never felt any kind of personal connection. I went years this way. It wasn't until my freshman year of college that I connected with a deity -- and it was in a way that I didn't expect in the least.<br /><br />It was the end of my first semester and a friend of mine was having trouble coping with stress. I was picking up on her panic attacks as I sat with her and tried to help her out. Panic in general is the complete opposite of me -- I had never had one in my entire life. I was at a lack of words to help -- couldn't find the words to say. I felt helpless like I couldn't be the friend I always said I was. Later on, when I was alone and able to meditate and try to calm myself down, I met Thor. In a time where strength was something I really needed, a deity showed up during meditation. He always has words of encouragement to say; he seems to be more of a champion for the humans -- in our conversations, which are admittedly very short -- he notes that I am capable of great strength, just not in the ways he is. That is enough. He shows up when I'm feeling particularly useless, even to this day. Every time it thunders, I always look up and say "Hello, Thor." <br />
<br />
Time skip forward to this time last year. I decided I seriously wanted to work in poetry and figure out a way to integrate that into some form of living. Before I decided I would be a college Professor, I meditated frequently on it, and felt kind of lost -- at first I thought my writing was sub-par and wasn't sure on which direction to go in order to improve. At the time I was also researching for a paper that grouped all Germanic deities into one -- saying that Wodan and Odin are the same deity, but in different languages. In meditation, I met Wodan. I was told that in order to write better, I had to research better. I had to read texts in ways that allowed each culture their differences. It was strange and for a while hard to wrap my head around. But the aspect I met was concerned about academics and writing -- especially the poetry. He critiques as I imagine they critique in grad school -- in the "These are the negatives. Fix them" sort of way. Not in the "You did this well, but..." sort of way. I get a nod if I do something right. I get an earful if I don't. <br />
<br />
Time skip forward to last semester, mid to late November. In conversations with one of my dear friends, I noted how I never really had a personal connection to a goddess. I had been trying to contact one who would give me a bit of guidance in terms of love and relationships -- and I learned based on how my relationships work with other deities that I would have to let them find me worthy -- and I had been unsuccessful up until a certain point. No Goddesses came to me in dream or meditation -- but for a workshop where a professor came in and introduced O.S.P.A. to shamanic journeys, I met Sunne in the upper world. She's the Anglo-Saxon Goddess of the Sun. In a way, she is the sun itself. She didn't explain much, but showed me that time changes things -- time gives us the ability to grow. Her job, she said, was to make sure that I grew. She would watch over me like she does the plants. I don't see her often, but I feel her presence inside my head sometimes as I wake up in the morning -- especially in the moments before the alarm clock goes off.<br /><br />Finally, a skip forward to late January. I had been trying to work on my psychic gifts and learn new ways that magic worked, but seeing as I work mostly in clairaudience, I was having a tough time finding ways to verify my experiences or to "check" if I was working in the right direction. Opposite now I had to work -- I had to do this on my own without being overly analytical and academic. I had to try something before I felt I had found enough research. I had to trust in what I had the ability to do without a source telling me I had the ability. Over a card game, I heard Loki. He was the first that showed up in a way where I had to force myself to use clairaudience to communicate. He simply would not walk in during meditation -- and thus I haven't 'seen' him. Only heard him. That night, I listened past what I believed I had the ability to listen -- and had a long conversation, if you could call it a conversation, with Loki. In the end, what I got from it was this -- there are times when it's alright to be structured and academic, but in certain things life needs to be chaotic. I was promised that until I could accept that and integrate those energies in my own life by my own hand, he'd have to stick around. And I don't mind personally. I feel like this connection has helped me astronomically with psychic gifts, all the way from clairaudience right down to divination. <br /><br />I offer words of thanks to all my deities. I wear a Mjollnir daily as a way to thank Thor. I've known and have had a connection with him the longest. I write poetry for Wodan and work as hard as I can to keep learning, and that gets me a nod on occasion from this aspect of him. For Sunne, I keep finding ways to integrate change into my life and I represent her on my altar with a female sun pendant. For Loki, I vowed to listen closely and have since been working on ridding myself of the self-doubt monster that blocks intuitive psychic things. If he shows up, he always gets acknowledged; he sounds so much different than other spirits which I can isolate and ignore if I so choose. <br /><br />So that's my UPG in a nutshell. All of the above can be elaborated on -- but I feel like that would be a tl;dr moment for most.K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3710726928164912509.post-5925865272753833092013-02-08T02:30:00.003-05:002013-02-08T02:30:43.319-05:00Books Keep Secrets, Too<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-osnUbehvTec/URSCm9uvk_I/AAAAAAAAA94/RFL2I0rZf2A/s1600/367_by_somebody__else-d5ff7s9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-osnUbehvTec/URSCm9uvk_I/AAAAAAAAA94/RFL2I0rZf2A/s400/367_by_somebody__else-d5ff7s9.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">|Credit: <a href="http://somebody--else.deviantart.com/art/367-328235049">[x]</a>|</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Here's a points-out-the-obvious-a-lot statement: Books are fantastic. But I found a way recently, with some random twist of fate and an awesome <a href="http://douglasiana.tumblr.com/">tumblr blogger</a>, for books to be even more fantastic than they already were. <br />
<br />
I learned what <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bibliomancy">bibliomancy</a> is! It is another form of intuitive divination -- and while no divination is entirely "simple" in and of itself, this one comes just as easily to me as any other form I've tried. <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(Well. I'm still learning the Runes and am still a bit apprehensive of my ability to read them. I feel resistance; a sort of "Go back to the books, grasshopper," kind of feeling.) </i></span><br />
So first thing's first. As with any divination, part of what I have to do is to clear my brain out; that means my self-doubt, my list of to-dos, my random thought processes, or notions of how repetitive college life can be. This, I think, is essential for how I've experienced bibliomancy -- it's a quick reading. <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(Although just like any other form, it could be complex and take a while to interpret.)</i></span> I feel like I have to KNOW when to open the book and where to start reading. And I do. But not if my mind's a jumbled mess. <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(Okay. Maybe it is more often then not, but I SWEAR. I SWEAR I can clear it out at least momentarily.) </i><span style="font-size: small;">Next<span style="font-size: small;"> step is for me t<span style="font-size: small;">o </span></span></span></span>focus on the querent's energy <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(I can write more on that, but it would be in and of itself another blog post)</i></span> and their question if they had one, and then open the book. There's the whole "what if I'm crazy!? What if I'm wrong!?" thing that might pop through my head, but I'm working on not letting that get in the way. Just open the book and read -- that's all I tell myself. I cannot divulge a lot of information on readings I've done for others, but I can offer a sample one that I worked for myself:<br />
<br />
The question was "Will I be in a romantic relationship sometime soon?" <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(Please, go ahead and judge >_> It was a rather dumb question to ask, but I'm a Pisces. We get this way sometimes.) </i></span><br />
<br />
I read from my small, gold-leaf pocket version of "The Hobbit" by J.R.R. Tolkien and got this passage: <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>“The Elven King looked at Bilbo with new wonder. “Bilbo Baggins!” he said. “You are more worthy to wear the armor of elf-princes than many who have looked more comely in it. But I wonder if Thorin Oakenshield will see it so. I have more knowledge of dwarves in general than you have perhaps. I advise you to remain with us, and here you shall be honored and thrice welcome.”
— J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Many things can be interpreted from this reading, but the conclusion I came to was this: Be amongst those who would honor you, even if it's not a romantic relationship as you hope. Your friends are much better company than you think! Time spent with them is more fulfilling than worrying about having a relationship
soon with a person or possible people who don't appreciate you or see you as you are meant to be seen.<br /><br />Much of it is going to be intuitive and the rest is going to be your ability to use the psychic gifts you already do possess. Some of the intuitive part may also come from English-Major-esque things like reading between the lines as is done endlessly in such classes -- and also some of it is throwing the "let's take it all literally" right out the window. Here, I am represented by Bilbo Baggins. The Elven King is the Spirit or Higher Self, ect. Thorin Oakenshield is the people who would be shallow, wrongly judge me or not appreciate me as I should, and the other elves? Well, those would be my friends in this situation. <br /><br />So in my eyes, the reading was incredibly accurate. It suited well, didn't confuse me. I didn't second-guess myself. This was all done in the span of about six minutes with a clear head. <br /><br />One thing I learned about Bibliomancy is that traditionally, the Bible or other "holy" texts were used. But like a good tarot deck, the tumblr blogger I told you about earlier mentioned that it works better if you know the text that you plan to use well. What I have on hand that fits both criteria are as follows: "The Hobbit" by Tolkien, "The Prose Edda" and "The Poetic Edda." There's another cool vocabulary term for the day, which I am totally going to look into -- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhapsodomancy">Rhapsodomancy</a> -- or divination by poetry -- it's kind of an offshoot of bibliomancy now-a-days. Books keep secrets, too. But the right kinds of readers can pull even the best kept secrets off of the pages. I hope one day that my own books will be used for such ends.<br /><b> </b></div>
K.M. Alleenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613834858483100053noreply@blogger.com0