As a child, I loved to write. The pencil was an extension of my hand and mind. I found that all the stories in my head could be released onto beautiful blank white paper. This revelation was exciting to me. I couldn’t wait to jot down my stories. It took me some time to realize that not everyone in the world finds writing fun and adventurous. It wasn’t until I became a teacher that I learned that there are children who have trouble getting their stories down on paper.
Category: memory
Mapping the Imagination
Much of my preparation for writing takes place in action. I walk in the various woods nearby my house, and as I walk, words come into my head and form a description of what I’m seeing. Each step takes on a cadence, and the words sort themselves out into a rhythm.
The Serene Art of Forest Bathing
The muted, burnished colors reflected in the mountain pools were so incredibly soothing. They blended together in wavy lines. The trees, the leaves, the water became one, and I wanted to plunge in and cover myself in autumnal splendor. It is in these moments that the real and the imagined join forces and cast a magical energy.
Daily Dose of Joy
 I put down my briefcase, sat carefully down on a small chair, and introduced myself to a table of three-year-old girls. I started my teaching career working with three-year-olds. I remember days of play, imagination, and song so fondly.
Art as Gratitude
I hadn’t thought of art as a vehicle for gratitude, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was exactly that – art is a prayer sent out to all calling for peace, beauty, love, all the colors of the rainbow, the rain coming softly down washing everything clean. This weekend, I looked back at some of the photos I’ve taken and suddenly saw prayers of gratitude embedded in their images.
Portrait of the Artist as an Old Woman
Recently, a good friend told me about Nell Painter’s book, Old in Art School. I knew immediately that I had to push it up to first on my summer reading list. I am indulging in Nell’s journey from Princeton history academic to an BFA at Rutgers’ Mason Gross School of Visual Arts to an MFA from the prestigious Rhode Island School of design. Much of Nell’s book is familiar because she is a Jersey girl and I also attended Rutgers as both an undergraduate and graduate. The essential questions of what is art and who is an artist repeat as a refrain in this memoir. I took a long slow read, trying my best to experience what Nell had lived.
Summertime Whimsy
It’s summertime. The world goes spinning on, off kilter. Over my decades on this planet, it seems that the world has always spun off kilter. There is good and evil in this world and both push and pull. I believe good will win out in the end. I believe in art, education, nature, and the human spirit. I know these things make life hopeful. And though, there are many things I can be anxious about right now, I choose joy and laughter. Summer is here. I want to face it like I did when I was a young girl, with hope and wild abandon.
The Art of Poetry: Eating Our Words
I'm not sure what I like to do more: write poetry or make delicious things to eat. I do know that children love to prepare food because of sensory stimulation it entails. Making food from scratch is a creative process, much like writing. You imagine, plan, and then set to work creating something special. Whether the final product is a poem or a delectable dish, the process is the same, and the end results are satisfying.
Stormy Weather: Celebrating Poetry Month
I loved stringing words together. I loved the way they formed in my mouth and rushed out into the air. Poetry was magical, and I felt I had some of that magic in me. Now, as a poet and teacher, I enjoy bringing that love of the spoken word to children. This month, Deborah, my friend and dear librarian at the school where I teach, invited me to be the guest poet during her library times with 1st through 4th graders.
Healing Through Poetry: A Daughter’s Journey
My father died two weeks ago. He was 99 years old. He had a good and long life. He gave me poetry, a puppy, love of literature, love of travel, love of food and cooking, and love of learning.Â