I have been taking this exquisite, excruciating, extraordinary online course, called Into the Dark Night. I was lucky enough to win a spot in the class and I am taking the gift for all it is worth, getting up early to devote several minutes to the material each morning, while also participating in 40-day art journaling workshop through my writing community. The act of fully devoting myself to both endeavors has required nearly all of my emotional and creative energy over the past two weeks, and will continue to for the next month.
I feel a little bit as if I am living in an alternate universe, escaping off to my sacred space as often as I can, pouring my thoughts and dreams and declarations into my art journal in the form of colors and images and fragmented words. Life itself feels a little fragmented theses day. There is that one piece, what used to be the whole piece, where I play with my son and make dinner and have conversations. Then there is the other piece, the inward piece, where I am falling down the rabbit hole and finally facing all the demons and angels that lurk in my wonderland. Meanwhile, my dreams, always vivid, are becoming increasingly clear and meaningful. Somedays I am not sure which is more real, the dreaming or the waking.
And then, there is this space. And what could I possibly have to say here? In the midst of all this unspeakable magic, how could words suffice? The only language I know that can even begin to translate the soul's mysteries is poetry. So this whole month, which just so happens to be National Poetry Month, I am succumbing to my loss for words and letting poetry do the talking, when I talk at all. Nothing but poetry or poetry-related posts for all of April. I've got an amazing poetic interview and giveaway coming up in this month for the Women on Writing series, and would love to host some of your poetry here if you'd like a place to share it. Just email me at alissambc at gmail dot com. I'll be sharing some of my own poetry, too. I can't promise it will be especially good, but it will be True, which is the next best thing.
On that note, I'll leave you with a link to one of my very favorite poems, which is both good and true: Amy Lowell's Decade.
Here's to savoring the days made for poetry.