Monday, February 25, 2013

WRITING MY SONG


 
A few weeks ago I drove my familiar route from Traverse City to downstate Michigan.  The roads were clear and the woods were filled with unspoiled white on white drifts.  Just as I approached the up north town of Kalkaska the wispy morning fog rose above the frosted pine needles and caught the rising sun, clarifying the muted crystals in an avalanche of diamonds so breathtakingly beautiful I pulled to the side of the highway to just observe.  And on the radio, the Cambridge Singers sang “All Things Bright and Beautiful,” from WIAA, the classical station out of Interlochen.     All points converged in a writing star as I grabbed the spiral notebook I keep in the pocket of the car door to scribble the memory. 

Later I read, “How to Regain Your Soul” by a favorite poet, William Stafford, as the points of his own writing star converged:

 “…the white butterflies dance
by the thousands in the still sunshine.  Suddenly anything
could happen to you.  Your soul pulls toward the canyon
and then shines back through the white wings to be you again.”

As a child I scrawled blissful stories of princesses in apple trees.  As a teenager it was imperative I tell my diary, Mindy, about all my loves lost and loves gained.  In college I lost much of my spontaneity as I agonized over what the professor wanted.  As a young teacher I uncomfortably taught the importance of the paragraph with three supporting sentences.

The tragedy of my life taught me to write again.  When my high school sweetheart, soulmate and dear husband died, I raged and ranted and cried and stomped and the paper found me.  Much of my journal from that time stays hidden.  But that first summer I was invited to the Oakland Writing Projecthttp://oaklandwritingproject.ning.com/  where we shared, conference style, our personal writing.  I unburied my writing song.

Anne Tyler said in an essay she wrote for The Writer and Her Work, edited by Janet Sternburg: “Even when I feel I have no ideas at all, and can’t possibly start the next chapter, I have a sense of something still bottled in me, trying to get out.” (12)  Writing is like that.  The arrangement of the words matters.  The images before me merge.  My song, the way I write, gives to me mystery, mission, message and meaning.  It is how I sing with the stars.
 
For Laura Roop

 

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