The Laws of Physics

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The Laws of Physics

A thimble holds my knowledge of
Science
Physics baffles me, ties me up in knots
Not knowing an atom from Adam’s house cat

But I know the basics
Of power and might
Of David and Goliath
Of small things with enormous will
And
Endless possibilities

Strength, reconstituted
Condensed
Boiled down to the root of the matter
Exponential greatness
Found in the most unlikely places

Go found me
I can turn it on its head
Flip it around, upside down
Add and subtract from the core of what it is

I don’t need a PHD to know
The power
Of
Two
Small
Letters
And
One
Small
Word

Go.

Watch it go. Add a d, and see
Diety.
Double the o then see
Goodness and mercy
Get really crazy and beautiful things appear
Gorgeous, it all started with a g and an o.

Physics spins me in circles
But I know get up and go
Simply step and step again and there you
Go.

Go with me
To a playful place
One Dr. Seuss and others know
The places we’ll go, oh the places we’ll go
You and me and the letters”G-O”.

 

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Feel encouraged today. Place your name behind the word. One comment on the blog yesterday stirred my soul and I saw anew the power of encouragement in “GO”. Go in love, Go to serve, Go empowered by God’s mercy and grace. Go outside. Go tell it, go sing it, go make it, be it. Simply “GO”

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Joining Sandy at Sandra Heska King dot come for Still Saturdays

One Word 365 – Go

For a lover of words, choosing one word is a challenge. Well theoretically it is a challenge. But when the word chooses you, well that changes things. Switches it up a bit. If I recall correctly, which I am apt not to do, last year’s word, “Art”, chose me. Well loosely speaking.

There is a mutuality to choosing a word. One feels drawn to the word. The word seems to fit and you and the word enter into some sort of agreement to co-exist for 365 days. There is some “self-identifying” that goes into it. For me, I think I will be called to “go” more. There is a mystery, a calling and a trust. Go and I. Locked arms for the year.

Metaphorically speaking. As far as I know, “Go” has no limbs.

Choosing “a word” for the year is being done by many bloggers and writers. The idea is catching on. As best I can tell. I only know that I kind of like the idea. It seems to give me a focal point. A way to focus my life, my writing. It grounds my writing in some way without being legalistic and boxed in. A gentle guide, perhaps. Providing a benchmark. A roadmap. A guidepost.

(Alece Ronzino, @aleceronzino on twitter, and fellow-blogger at Grit and Glory dot com is the brainchild). I thought you should know.

It is a bit counter-intuitive to sum up a year at the beginning of the year. But I like the concept and something, in retrospect, about last year’s word “Art’ did define my year in many ways.

One Word 365 has an expansive website which I found interesting to explore. You may want to visit it too. And be inspired to identify your own word.

So for now I am at peace with where I will go with “Go” in 2014. I feel the impetus of a verb behind me, propelling gently my writing life. Last year’s noun suited last year. And helped me focus on the art of living and creating. 2013 offered many opportunities and my writing got up and went places. Exciting places, far away places, intriguing places.

So maybe “Go” makes sense and in fact is not as simple or odd as it may appear. “Go” whispers the beginnings of “God”. It hints and reminds me of the Divine. Turns me and points me like a spiritual compass before I even actually move.

And my #oneword365 is active and passive. I find peace in that too. I can intentionally begin my days with “Go”. Focused on movement of the heart or body.  And though I may not leave to travel to far flung places,  traveling only on the page with my writing, I am still active and moving.

“Go” reminds me that I should stay less often. If you have read here for even a little while you may recall that I create wide margins, habitually, regularly, by design. I am comforted by wide margins.

But I may need to say yes to going more often. Exploring. Seeking. Challenging myself. Meeting new people, places, and things in the going. My life feels pulled ever so gently into more “yeses” to going. To risking. To bravery and boldness in many aspects of my art and my just living.

Thank you for going with me. For walking along here through my poetry and prose. For listening to my noticing, my pondering, and for simply reading my words. It is an honor to “go” through life with others in this community.

To look for God and all his glory in the cracks and crevices, the folds of the day, the nuances of life and in the everyday daily. Together.

I am dreaming of going a few very special places this year. Lean in close and I will share one dream….that of joining a  meet-up in New York in April with my friends at Tweetspeak Poetry. And I am anticipating some surprises along the way. There are always plenty of them, aren’t there.

But mostly I am at peace just getting going daily. Loving well. Living well. Writing. Always writing. There is a book or two inside me that is just asking to be written. I hope I show up at my desk and actually go about writing a book in 2014. To that end, I am beginning a workshop on Monday with Jane Friedman. I wanted to add like ten exclamation points to the end of that sentence, but I thought it would be well, over-kill. Nine maybe, not ten.

You may notice things a little quieter here, or a little louder. I may be holed up in my Tweetspeak Poetry Workshop, busily trying to improve my art. Or I may be running back here to share with you. Either way, I hope to be challenged and changed.

Happy 2014 friends. I may not thank you enough. But I am grateful to have you here.

You may consider joining me on instagram, twitter @graceappears or “like” my facebook page. All that would be lovely if you’d like to come “go” with me there.

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Slaying Dragons

Slaying Dragons

Sometimes we, the royal one, and I
We need paradigm shifts.

Crave, no hunger for, new normals
Feel the burning desire, the fire in the belly
For radical, get with the program plans
Or better yet, write new ones.
That color wild and bold and tempestuously
Outside the lines
White-out replacing old with new
Marking gloriously fresh borders
In pen, not pencil.

And with
Ear to the ground, we hear
Pounding
Hooves and heartbeats,
Like wild bulls, joining wild horses
In a throwing-the-dust-up maddly in the air,
Frenzied
Stampede.

And depart for a good long while
The dog-in, dog-out
Cat-in, cat-out days
To raise
The roof
And the wrist, the ventrical vessel for the overflow of
The fiercely beating
Heart

Pick up dragging feet, or dragging pen
And maybe even an imaginary sword
With the sharpest blade words, not metal
Can make

Foot in stirrup, mounted on horseback
Maybe even two feet
Planted firmly there

And for once and for all

Slay the dang dragons

Who will find themselves pitifully piled up
In the corner, shaking with fear
And trembling
Cowering at the sight

Of one bold and brave
Writer, warrior, woman
Friend.

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Dedicated with love and admiration to the following three women in my world: Amanda Hill, Maggie Wynne, and L.L. Barkat. Slay on.

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The Noticer

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The Noticer

It was in the fall that I noticed. Again. But it was different this time. The yard had been raked in a suburban monochromatic sweeping. Overly antiseptic. The way the neighbors might  approve. But in a way that appears boring. Void of creativity. The kind spilled out from heaven. Released, unfurled by the hand of Artist God.

And it was then that I noticed. The brushing aside. Made manifest in my yard. A physical representation in the form of dead leaves. Brittle. That heart of God on my yard. The mosaic, the fallen tapestry of gold, sienna, burnt orange pieces had been raked up. Msn moved the art of God. There on the canvas of my autumn day, a mosaic laid in love was moved in uncaring haste. To sanitize. To bring man-made order.

The leaves had fallen just so, placed, by a holy hand. The Creator had, was it by design, offered a masterpiece of autumnal muted hues, surrounding me with glory come down. And we, in an effort to re-create our own standard of beauty, had brushed it aside. It was then that I noticed. What a mistake the rearranging might have been. I saw, what it feels like to be invisible.

To be brushed aside.

And I am touched by holy noticing, once again.

Thankful for the nuances of ordinary life. The subtlety of beauty. And the generosity of the Giver. And the gentle reminder, to notice.

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Joining Jen at SDG

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