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Poetry Month: A Lady Gets Over It & Into It

whiskey in a tea cupWe’re deep into poetry month (ok, ok, we’re a week in), and I haven’t poeted yet.

What’s up with that?!

Honestly, what’s up with that is that a dear friend and creative mentor to the western hemisphere died. Just disappeared from the local art scene, and left a huge void. I think of him every time I write, and I miss him. He died while editing my first novel (about death and dying – no, I’m not kidding), and I’ve been a little hesitant.

If he were here, he’d roll his eyes and say, “Get over it lady,” I loved the way he used to say ‘lady‘, “and get writing!”

He interviewed me a couple of times on his radio show, and just the other day, a friend of mine who had tuned in to listen remembered my friend, and that particular interview, “My god he was turned on. Hell, you had the whole city horny.”

whiskey in her bonesYes, this is the feedback we need from our creative friends when trying to write smut. Success.

So in honour of my friend, who was ruthless in his art and living an authentic life, today I will dedicate myself to writing what needs to be written.

In honour of my friends who, like me get too caught up in the grind to sate their creative, sensual, lovely inner wild beast, I will write what needs to be written; without fear, shame, shyness or reserve.

I will also need bourbon to do this.

 

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Getting Your Groove Back; Creativity & Stress

flapper
Fabulousness is just a state of mind darlings. Go get some. ~Andshelaughs~

If I could stay home, switch between drinking coffee and champagne all day, and wear outrageous feathered get-ups, I certainly would.

But that’s not our little reality in this corner of the world. Nope. We exchange energy for money and money for a bunch of crap we really don’t need, like champagne and feathered get-ups.

I fancy myself as a Gertrude Stein type of artist, except heterosexual, much more vain and broke.

Having had the luxury of a few days off, my body and mind have had a chance to slow down. As I drove home last night during my final stint with ‘Mom’s Taxi Service’, song lyrics popped into my head. My own song lyrics – original ones.

If I could have, I would have gotten down on my knees, looked heavenward and thanked the powers that be.

You see, for the longest time there has been no poetry up there in my wee little brain. It’s been busy dealing with all of the practical things we need to do to survive, and emotional pooh-ha.

Song lyrics. Poetry. Character development and magic. Even after just a few decluttered days, my brain is creating again.

Away from the world where we are all cogs in the machine living paycheck to paycheck, my mind is flourishing. It’s stretched out on an imaginary beach soaking up the radiant light of life.

I don’t happen to believe that only a few of us are creative spirits. I do believe that creativity is the expression of the human spirit.  Bottling that effervescent part of ourselves up makes us crazy; depressed, craving something we can’t define, and feeling dead inside.

Wishing you the space and time to listen to the whispers of your creative self. Wishing you the self-confidence and courage to engage in the conversation.