Poems and Ponderings

I love writing poetry and as with my art I have my personal favorite style. When I came across this post I thought I share it here: Jane Hirshfield is the author of seven books of poetry, including most recently Come, Thief , and the classic collection of essays, Nine Gates: Entering the Mind of Poetry . Who better to ask: Why write poetry? Here are her in-depth, thought provoking answers to this two-part question: Jennifer Haupt: Why do you write poems, and why would anyone want to write a poem? Jane Hirshfield: One reason to write a poem is to flush from the deep thickets of the self some thought, feeling, comprehension, question, music, you didn’t know was in you, or in the world. Other forms of writing—scientific papers, political analysis, most journalism—attempt to capture and comprehend something known. Poetry is a release of something previously unknown into the visible. You write to invite that, to make of yourself a gathering of the unexpected and, with luck, o...

Please continue reading, further down I have added my own thoughts in bold and cursive. ... From La Loba , Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With The Wolves. Pp.26-28 ....'the one that has many names. One who knows, it is the source of the feminine. The intuition, clairvoyance, who which listens carefully and has the true heart. She is the creator of the cycles,  is the life force' (Estes, 1994). And La Loba sang louder than the ground shakes digging up a bone. And then La Loba whispered all that is lost can be found, all that is dead can be resurrected. So my first task was to learn to understand within me that I should let to live and what I should let to die.  And in the process I should walk through the inner and outer worlds collecting my bones. And when my skeleton was complete, La Loba would sing about it and bring back the creature, my soul indestructible. Many nights passed until I find all my bones. Many expeditions to the underworld. Many ...

For years I bemoaned the fact that I was not given the gift of a daughter. Don't get me wrong, I love both my sons and would not trade them for anything in the world! But I guess like every man wishes for a son I wished for a daughter. Someone I could pass my knowledge, everything I inherited from my mom, the good and the not so good... I love cooking, baking, decorating, frills and laces, the colour pink, dancing in the rain, listening to the thunderstorm, be mad and silly and everything that makes a woman... yet it was not to be. Today, whilst cleaning my studio,  I had  an epiphany, a light bulb went on... During my years of teaching I had so many daughters, sisters, mothers attending my classes. I had my sons girlfriends, and other beautiful young girls who grew up to be such beautiful young women, and all of them hold very special places in my heart! Every one was so very special and the one or other might even continue spreading a little part of me! What more can ...

I can't believe it has been over a year since my last  post. Truth to be told I did not even write much... Sometimes I would take my book and pen and sat there and started scribbling and merely ended up with some diary style writing, not what I wanted. But what did I want to write about? I don't know... there are many stories I felt needed to be told and yet, who cares? Does anyone care if the stories were written, I don't think so... So back again, why write? For the past few years my little black book was my confidant, my best friend,  my soul speaking, my safety net, my tears, my tantrums, my thoughts and prayers and sometimes the only way to keep on going....! So now after every tear had been shed, every prayer had been prayed there is this emptiness, nothing more needed to be said, it is all there in my little black books; so you see writing was therapy for me.  I needed to write in order to heal and bring perspective back into my life..  And still...

Eyes glued to the screen my heart just missed a beat or two only to start pumping again like mad, I realize I have stopped breathing, my stomach is in a knot and I feel goosebumps all over my body. Slowly I take a deep breath,  and another one but now I feel  tears welling up in my eyes, this is my boy, my big boy is looking for a home because his adopted mother for 8 years is leaving country trying to make a living abroad. Never in my life did I think I would find my big boy,  my very first Ridgeback here on the Rhodesian Ridgeback Rescue Site... For the past few weeks I had been looking to adopt a Ridgeback, in my heart I knew it was going to be someone very special, one that would make my heart beat  faster the moment I would find him,  it had to be male because I had a female Labrador already and we both felt there was someone missing, after my two  beloved Ridgebacks had passed away within 18 months... And here I see him and his companion...

Sometimes, just sometimes no matter how strong you are, if you are a man, woman or child you just want to be held knowing that when you let go you will be safe Sometimes, just sometimes you need to let go to find yourself your strength your will to life Come, let me hold you Let go and feel safe c J. Schulte-Zurhausen

My child I gave life to you; I held you in my arms, a prescious gift indeed. Everything I wanted to give to you, I wanted to do right to you! And then life happened, life with it's twists and turns... Unpredictable life, lesson's to be learned, re-acting to situations as they were thrown at me. I did not choose these lessons my child, but I always tried to do my best as I knew how. My best might not have been enough for you, but you will, may be, do everything better with your child... until life throws it's lessons at you... So when you when you think of your mother today, remember: She ALWAYS tried her best! Happy Mother's Day to all mothers! c    J Schulte-Zurhausen 13.May 2012