Kim's Korner: A Place for Words

Thursday, March 11, 2010

I Don't Remember Being Forgetful

Let me just first say that my memory isn't that bad. In fact I have an excellent track record of memorizing lines for plays, poetry, and countless talks, speeches and other messages. However, if you ever visit my family down in South Carolina, within 15 minutes you will begin to hear stories about my childhood and one of them will no doubt be about my forgetfulness.

There was the time when I was 7 or 8 years old that my mother sent me to the front yard to empty the waste basket into the large metal outdoor trash can. For those too young to remember (there's that memory again) they look like this.

So, out I went to empty the trash and apparently while on my way back to the house I came across one of the neighborhood dogs wandering through our front yard. Dogs wandered in those days (can you imagine that, or do you need another photo).

Now it seems perfectly reasonable to me that a 8 year old boy would stop and play with a readily available dog. The story, as my mother tells it - endlessly - is that i came back inside (after a prolonged time) happy and clueless of the fact that I had left the waste basket in the front yard. Therefore, I am forever deemed "forgetful."

To me it is a simple case of priorities. Which is more important: an empty waste basket, or a wandering dog?

That's my story and I'm sticking to it - like white on rice.

Labels: blogging, family, life on life's terms, stories, writing

Tuesday, March 09, 2010

Rushing from Past to Eternity

Meet Tom Rush

From the cramped space of my college dorm room and the defined limits of my young adult life, the voice of Tom Rush, gentle and filled with melancholy, touches my mind, my soul and reminds me that there are those who capture life in ballads and tunes hauntingly impassioned.

Tom Rush has both lyrics and music that are of a time gone by. Heck, even for the years of his popularity, he was singing stories and a style from the days of cowboy ballads and hobo songs.

Look him up. Take a trip on some of his lyrics, or just sit back and have your heart rocked lovingly by Maggie from "Ladies Love Outlaws."

Labels: emotion, meanderings, music, songs, stories, word play

Thursday, March 04, 2010

Another - Kids say the funniest things – Story 002

I have already said, my youngest step daughter (now 22, and a senior at ECU) is the family ‘funny saying generator.’ It seems to be her role to interpret life situations in, well comical if not correct ways.

The traffic was very heavy and hearing her mother complain about it, this wiley 7 year old said, “Remember mom. It’s rough hour.” It was, but made more enjoyable by her comment.

Another one for the memory books…

Labels: family, stories, word play

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

Kids say the funniest things – Story 001

My youngest step daughter is the family ‘funny saying generator.’ It seems to be her role to interpret life situations in, well - comical if not correct ways.

There was the time, at 7 years old, when she was riding with her mother past the local cemetery and said very matter of fact. “Look mommy. There’s the brave yard.”

Makes sense to me.

Labels: family, stories, word play

Tuesday, March 02, 2010

Always A Story

I viewed “The Legend of 1900” this week. I enjoyed the film - a fanciful story of a child that grows up on a commercial steam liner in the 1900's develops a mastery of piano and yet never sets foot on land.

There were several memorable moments and charming characters.

One quote that sticks with me is this: “You're never really done for, as long as you've got a good story and someone to tell it to.”

Isn’t that the truth. It's soon time for a story...

Labels: emotion, sea, stories

Sunday, February 28, 2010

An Open Letter to Hallmark

Dear Hallmark:

Thank you for your wide and creative selection of cards. As a man, it is most helpful that you provide me with cards that speak of love, commitment, passion and adoration between a husband and wife. At each season and holiday, when I reach to purchase a card – I am glad you have thought through these details for me.

I would like to make one request, however. Can you please not design these cards to appeal to me just in order to sell them? Yes, I like brown, tan and other earth tone colors. I am a bit uncomfortable holding flowery, glitter laden and sparkling cards that sing love songs. And yet, even at the risk of making me uncomfortable can you NOT design any cards that will result in my wife saying – “How nice. You picked this one because you like the colors – didn’t you?” I promise I will buy whatever you sell, just help me out will you?

Sincerely,

Theguythatlikesearthtones…

Labels: gender stuff, life on life's terms, stories, writing

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Writing Prompt - Dolphin Musing

Dolphin Musing

Using a writers prompt, I penned these words and posted them elsewhere previously. May they bring you some of the peace that they brought me this day.

"Write a one-page description of what it would be like to swim with dolphins."

It seems like more than a few years ago. I stood on the bridge spanning the inlet at St. Augustine, Fl. Statuary of regal lions poised themselves as sentries guarding access, an access now in no need of guards, concrete or otherwise, a mere gateway from one tourist infested section of the town to another.

That evening, late, I stood on the crest of the low bridge and gazed blankly into the grey swirl of sea below. Small caps of sea foam occasionally formed and then faded, improbable punctuations, a writer's words quickly deleted returning the emptiness to the page. I had been unable to write for weeks. My mind blank, no, so filled with images and sensations falling over each other in chaos that no assembly of words could seem to contain my thoughts. So there the formless confusion of my mind was met by its reflection there in the dark sea.

The first one almost escaped my attention. A thin slice of light grey broke the ocean plain, a small twist of foam, and it was gone. I strained to see. I heard the song. At first I thought it was the wind carrying children's voices, softly to my ears. Then I saw them, dolphins. They swam below me, hiding just beneath the sea's veil, shadows, wisps of silver form. I leaned over the railing, dangerously far. They circled below me, entwining among themselves. There where three of them, two adults and a small one. They seemed unaware of anything but their own dance. What grace and poise they created with movements so fluid and quick; touches so gentle and tender.

I fell. Somehow my foothold failed and although I grabbed hold of the rail, my body already hung over the side and my one handed grip wasn't enough. I tumbled the few feet and into the surf. I felt the sting of the water's chill. It had barely warmed from these early spring days. Something brushed my side and I felt myself being pushed toward the surface. I lifted my head to the night air, rubbed the salt water from my eyes, and as I began to tread water, was astonished to see the smallest of the trio of dolphins floating just inches from my face. It rolled onto one side, exposing one eye to the surface and lifting a fin as if to wave. I laughed. I heard them sing again. A gentle high note that seemed to hang in the air and settle in my soul, even more, it settled my soul.

The two adults were on each side of me now, and as I shifted my weight and began floating on my back, I could feel them moving around me. Soon, there dance included me. I joined them. I swam gently, rolling my body with the shift of the currents, allowing my hands to touch them and then the sea. I closed my eyes and listened to their song and swam with them.

Perhaps it was the caress of the sea, or the magic of the moment, or maybe just the release of my daily constraints, but, my head spun in delight and I felt a drug-like euphoria rise within my being. I was at once lost in bliss and fully present with myself.

Later, they bid me farewell and I felt a bit of sadness as they vanished into the darkness of the night and the vastness of the sea. I know that I found something that night. For even now, years later, I can close my eyes, breathe in the smell of the sea, and hear their song, the song I learned the night I swam with the dolphins.

Labels: meanderings, prose, stories, word play, writing

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Amusing Myself - Critical Conversing

Amusing Myself

Me: You are dancing again.

Muse: Yes.

Me: Have you missed it?

Muse: The dancing?

Me: Yes, the dancing.

Muse: Yes, but I have missed other things more.

Me: Really? What?

Muse: I have missed the attentive look on your face as you treasure me.

Me: Treasure you? That is a bit assumptive of you.

Muse: Perhaps, but I see it tonight in your eyes.

Me: You annoy me sometimes with you self assurance.

Muse: I'm not so assured, so confident about most things. But, I know you.

Me: Indeed you do.

Muse: Dance with me.

Me: I already am.

Muse: Do you love me?

Me: Always.

Muse: I'm glad.

Me: So am I, eventhough it keeps me forever troubled.

Muse: Troubled?

Me: Perhaps unsettled would be a better word.

Muse: If you were not unsettled by me, you would be worthless, you know.

Me: Yes, and sometimes I get tired of the desire, the longing, the...

Muse: Amusement?

Me: You make me smile.

Muse: I make you laugh.

Me: And dance.

Muse: I dance for you.

Me: Thank you.

Muse: You make me laugh.

Me: I know. I know. Shut up and dance.

Labels: meanderings, prose, sacred moments, spirituality, stories, word play, writing

Friday, February 19, 2010

Writing Prompt - Spider's Web

Write for ten minutes, beginning with the following sentence: “I’d often thought I’d like to watch a spider spin his web from start to finish; now I had little choice.”

I’d often thought I’d like to watch a spider spin his web from start to finish; now I had little choice. I could feel the throbbing in my leg, and as I shifted my weight was reminded of the restraints that held me here, bound in this bed, tilted on my left side, staring out of the window. The spider had arrived a few moments ago and begun his web.

“Why me,” the thought came to me again as my mind drifted back to the events of last week.

“Kim, come here,” Erin’s voice called from the base of the old oak tree.

Erin and I were best friends. We had been since elementary school, and here we were, now in our twenties wandering the old wooded lots behind what remained of Beachwood Elementary.

“I still can’t believe they are going to tear down the school, Erin. I mean Beachwood has always been there,” I commented as I arrived beside her at the foot of the old oak tree.

“I can’t believe it is still here,” Erin remarked.

“I know. Look up there,” I pointed to the gnarled branched above our heads.

The planks of wood still spanned the distance between the branches. I remembered the many times we came running through these woods and scampered up the tree to our “fort.” There we had talked about all of life’s great topics: girls, boys, teachers, parents, and high school.

Erin put her hands on one of the short boards that still remained nailed to the tree, making a ladder up to the fort. She took hold of the board and pulled. It held. Erin looked over her shoulder at me and smiled.

“Come on,” she teased, and began scampering up the side of the tree.

“No way!,” I exclaimed and continued, “I am twice your size. We aren't kids anymore, Pixie!”

I always called her Pixie when I wanted to point out that I was about twice her size. Erin was always a small, thin girl. Today was no different, although, she had shaped up nicely over the years. It is amazing what breasts and a firm butt can do to transform a twig of a girl into a beautiful woman. She laughed from her lofty position in the branches overhead.

--ten minutes up--

Labels: blogging, prose, stories, word play, writing

Thursday, February 18, 2010

In The Sand*

In the sand

Our foot prints

Hearts

Shells

Kisses

Lines left by the tide

Castles

Dog paws

Cans

Bodies

Tears

Clothes

Dreams

Names

Our Life time

In the sand

*I grew up at the beach. I spent a great deal of time day and night, wandering the shores, feeling and exploring the sands of that shore and all that could be lived and love. There isn't much I haven't done on those shores. There is a lot of life lived, left and found there...

Labels: beach, meanderings, poetry, sacred moments, stories, word play, writing

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Quit or Endure?

So, how do you know if it’s time to quit?

I started a Novice Yoga class five weeks ago. I have made it to three classes. I missed the last two for work reasons, and this week isn’t looking too good. The truth is I don’t really want to go. Here’s my problem – I don’t know if I should quit.

I know there are times when it is “good for me” to push through resistances to activities that are good for me. I often have exercised when I didn’t feel like it. I have eaten fresh foods when I wanted less healthy options. Yoga is good for me. I feel good after each class. I can’t say that I enjoy Yoga. I don’t really look forward to going and I’m not motivated to practice between sessions or improve my postures – other than when I am actually in the class. Yet, the once weekly class can’t do anything but help me with flexibility and strength – both things I need.

Am I being a wimp? Am I fighting progress? I don’t really know. Is it time to “man-up” and go or quit?

Labels: emotion, exercise, life on life's terms, stories, work out

Friday, January 29, 2010

Dancing Death

The painter stands apart from the painting

The poet lays aside the parchment

The sculptor steps back from the statue

Each, in turns applies craft upon an object

Releasing it, complete and whole

They remain.

Where then, do we find the line separating the dancer from the dance?

Body, spirit and movement are at once creator and creation

The dance exists only with and only in a moment of movement

And in its incessant demand to be, the dance will – always does –

Consume the dancer leaving

Him draped across the floor

Her broken over the chair

Leaving them worn thin in each other’s arms

Only able to gasp a memory of remembering

The dance, only shadows of their life

Gone

Is the dance

As the dance continues upon

Another

one, two, three…

Labels: meanderings, music, poetry, sacred moments, stories