On the Cusp of Sunday

Sweet scent of sunlight
dances tango on my hip,
dapples spun by curdled clouds
tattoo my croning feet.

Behind a flimsy veil
Cassandra sings eternity.
I turn my back
glide deeper into dance.




Fractal created in Fractal Explorer, Digital Photo embedded

Imagine This

I'm a participant in a local writers' circle which defies academia. Without a strong political structure, words continue to emerge. Without a strong critique structure, technique improves by leaps and bounds.

One member, a psychologist, refers to the body as 'Group' which carries the connotation of a therapeutic wellness bid. And it's true. We know each other in ways others do not. Sharing life experiences, current happenings and having seen four of the members undergo near death dramas, we are aware of the urgency of life and full of the generousness of spirit that empowers writing in a safe zone.

The number of books published since we began meeting is approaching twice the number of members. Several folks are not interested in publishing, sometimes folks are not even interested in writing but the sparks that occur during our fortnightly meeting lend encouragement and ideas around. I cannot recall a meeting which failed to produce a small tear and/or a robust belly laugh.

Newcomers come and go. Some find we are too unstructured to suit them; we have no president, we take no minutes. We have no dues. No obligations. We write as writing moves us. And move us it does.

Do you belong to a writing circle?


Butterfly Reflection created in Fractal Explorer by Sue Turner

Masquerade

under a dark moon
the whole hides
beyond hyperbole

provoked by lunacy
what rings truer
than truth

is no more than
wild lies opened
in the night of moon
with danger as real as dew



Digital Photo, August 2006, Lake Pend O'Reille, Sue Turner

MuseOnlineConference and Nanowrimo

Summer comes to a screeching halt. Indian Summer days may come, but my summer stops the first time my feet beg for socks and shoes.

Cranky stellar jays squabble over the cooling fruit on the pear tree, my mind goes blank and my body begins hibernation preparation but...wait!

There's much to do.

MuseOnlineConference starts October 9 and goes through October 13. How novel is this? Right from home, write from home. Great workshops and interactive chats are scheduled. In order to attend most of the sessions, I x'ed my calendar DONE to hone in on this workshop and begin filling a notebook with thoughts, starts and probably a few stops as well.

November 1 is the start date for NaNoWriMo. More thinking and Internet-ing brought me to the point of looking-forward instead of foot-dragging. Another notebook started!

In the meantime my normally scheduled Post Falls Writers, Spokane Authors, yoga class and Curves will fall into the 'optional' category.

People who complain of not having enough to do amaze me. What I'd give for a few extra hours of their offtime to use for my uptime.



I can't get my arms around it, Fractal from Apophysis by SueTurner.