An Unburied Breath

An unburied breath
can remember its own name
even in the witching hour.
Dreams of my youth startle me
by how bright and close they seem.

Photo by Egor Vikhrev on Unsplash

Song Choice: Breath of Life by Florence and the Machine

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem is linked to Poets and Storytellers United's Friday Writings, Modern Marvels. The modern invention I'm most grateful for is my new C-PAP machine. Best sleep I've had in ages!

Aiming Towards the Sun

 Aiming towards the sun,

the hawk shows dedication.

Cultivating grace

in those who witness her flight.

She shows the path to follow.

Photo by Rachel McDermott on Unsplash

Song Choice: Learning to Fly by Tom Petty

Liner Notes for This Groove: This tanka was written in honor of a fellow student of Japanese tea ceremony. She recently got her tea name. What that means is that she has practiced tea for a long enough time at a high enough skill level that she earned a name that shows she is part of the Urasenke tea school lineage. My tea teacher told me that in older times tanka poetry was sometimes composed in honor of students who achieve a high level of proficiency. I decided to try my hand at it. She seemed quite pleasantly surprised at how well it turned out (she had no idea I wrote poetry at all).

I am years (and years) away from earning my tea name, but I do hope that if I do earn one, it will be as lovely a celebration as we had for her.

Blue Sky Dreams

All my blue sky dreams
surviving despite the rain
startle me. To think
I almost let them wither
fearing an endless winter.

Photo by Ritam Baishya on Unsplash

Song Choice: Can You Feel a Brand New Day from the Wiz

Liner Notes for This Groove: This song is linked to Poets and Storytellers United's Friday Writings prompt. LOL, I did not in fact follow my own prompt (this song is one of my favorites), but I did feel like celebrating hitting a milestone for a work in progress I had to be goaded into starting. Thank you Magaly, for kicking my butt to the 40,000 word mark. 😜

The Sound of Rain

The sound of the rain
feels like a blanket of words
I thought I forgot
under over-strained sunshine.
Lost stories come home sometimes.

Photo by reza shayestehpour on Unsplash

Song Choice: Here Comes The Rain Again by Eurythmics

Liner Notes for this Groove: This tanka is linked to the Friday Writings post at Poets and Storytellers United.

Spring Hymn

What could not survive
winter lies cracked and broken.
Don’t be gentle, wind,
bear away what will not bloom
so that hope can plant its seeds.

Photo by Saad Chaudhry on Unsplash

Song Choice: Spring 1 composed by Max Richter

Liner Notes for This Groove: This tanka is linked to Poets and Storytellers United's Friday Writings Prompt. I did mean to write about cake, but the wind was so wild and lovely today, I just had to get my thoughts down about it.

Warmth Exists

Ceaseless wind scours
my lips raw on this winter day.
The sun does its best
to remind me warmth exists
if my will is to seek it.

Photo by Andy Holmes on Unsplash

Song Choice: Pinch Me by Bare Naked Ladies

Liner Notes for This Groove: This poem is linked to Poets and Storytellers United's Friday Writings post.

Sakura

What magic to be
included in the dancing
of a sakura,
from when it spun from its tree
to the moment it lay still.

Photo by Anders Jildén on Unsplash

Song Choice: Mother Earth and Father Time from Charlotte's Web

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the prompt given at Poets and Storytellers United's Weekly Scribblings prompt, Liminal Space.

Absence

A seed dropped by chance
inside a high-walled garden
became a tree
with impossibly deep roots
whose absence left a crater.

Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

Song Choice: The Last Goodbye by Billy Boyd

This poem was created for the Weekly Scribblings prompt at Poets and Storytellers United, Trees.

There Still Will Be Pie

No need to pretend
that all of this is normal.
Tradition is not
needed to enjoy the taste
of each other’s company

Photo by Alex Loup on Unsplash

Liner Notes for this Groove:

Thanksgiving was never a big deal for me growing up. Oh sure, my mom sometimes tried her hand at American favorites like turkey (the horror… the horror…) but it wasn’t exactly her forte. I never felt bad about the lack of typical Thanksgiving fare, even when we had enough newly arrived family members to gather with on the last Thursday in November.

This is not the case with my husband’s side of the family. Their spread is the stuff of legends. Most of the members of his family are amazing cooks (including him). I didn’t even think I liked turkey until I got married. There were never even any of the heated political discussions I heard happened around other tables. I do recall one slightly conservative (for this family) brother in law getting gently roasted by his wife and then teenage daughter, but that’s about it.

This is the Thanksgiving celebration my kids grew up with. I wondered how much of the typical spread I needed to provide in order for it to feel special. So I was a little surprised when my Darling Youngest came to me with a gleam in their eye about purposely making it weird.

Nothing is normal about this Thanksgiving, so let’s lean into it. We’re not going to try to top Aunt Michele’s stuffing (whew… because that would be a tall order). We’re going to lean into the weird that is 2020 and make food that feels like a celebration to us, whether it’s traditional or not. Darling Youngest and my husband have been bonding over finding recipes to try (looks like bone marrow will be on the table).

We’re still figuring out a main course, but I know there will be one traditional thing on the table, sweet potato pie. I’ve never made one before, but a Facebook friend was kid enough to pass along their tried and true recipe. I can’t wait to enjoy that.  

Song Choice: Staying Alive by the Bee Gees

This post was created for Poets and Storytellers United's Weekly Scribblings prompt, Celebration.

Liminal Tea

I did not have a bowl of tea under the cherry blossoms on my birthday month in the way I had hoped. This spring’s strangeness outlasted both my birthday and those blooms, going past the scent of summer honeysuckle, and likely to linger after the veins of the last red leaf of autumn are crusted with frost. 

But the peace I find in my practice is also long lasting. Though the fall threatens more strange fruit and bitter harvests, though winter is a specter I can’t yet imagine, my battered mind finds a moment of respite in a space apart, created where the scent of matcha rises when water first meets it, and cradled in the sound of the whisk dancing in the bowl. And even if I cannot pass a bowl of tea to another’s appreciative hand, that rest found between the liminal spaces of foam and pouring water can travel freely for miles, any time to anyone who sets aside a corner of their heart for tea. 

I’ve learned to adapt,
mixing matcha for one. But
I can still share tea
steeped in my heart, an ocean
away, yet linked by spirit.

This was taken on the New Year's tea celebration my tea school holds every year.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

Song Choice: While My Guitar Gently Weeps performed by Prince, Tom Petty, Steve Winwood, Jeff Lynne and Others

Liner Notes for This Groove: This piece was created for the prompt given at Poets and Storytellers United's Weekly Scribblings #35, The Joy of Rest. It was also inspired by a request from my tea teacher. This September Urasenke North America is holding a chado relay, where they invite members from the different tea schools in North America to share images and words about their practice during these socially distanced times. I am a member of Urasenke Philadelphia and it will be our turn to share from the 7th to the 9th. 

Something Better

It's hard not to look at the stupidity all around and not feel angry. I am no saint. Anger tore a gash in my side and settled in my stomach. But although it tries to burble up my throat when I speak, it doesn't have my mind, nor will it ever take my heart.

I have enough rage
to burn, but it won't help us.
Love's the only way
to smash a cycle of hurt
so something better can grow.

Song Choice: For What It's Worth by Buffalo Springfield

This poem was created for Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads' prompt, Wordy Friday with Wild Woman: Staying Strong in a World of Climate Crisis.

Love by Robert Indiana

Evolution of a Chajin: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 44

Water touches tea

releasing its sweet fragrance.

Today I receive

instead of serve. I find joy

in others’ first tastes of art.

This poem is linked to Poets United's Pantry of Poetry and Prose

Liner Notes For This Groove: I remember when I first started tea lessons. There were so many terms to learn, so many small details of movement and positioning to keep straight. I may have responded in Spanish a few times when I was supposed to answer in Japanese. I may have mangled my Japanese so I told my guests to finish cleaning up for me. But the older more experienced students were there to give me tips on how to remember things, tricks for polishing my techniques, and just be generally helpful.

So recently I had a lesson where I was the most senior student. I did advance clean up to make the lessons flow more smoothly, just the way I remember some of the older students did for me. I lent out some of my tea things so the newer students could practice with them.

Now I’ve been studying long enough to know I’ve made decent progress in my personal practice. But being able to help really made me feel like I was part of the tea school in a way I hadn’t experienced before. I was part of the process of helping others learn, and that felt really cool. Sen Rikyu (the founder of the Urasenke Tea School) wrote many famous poems regarding the art of tea. In his 98^th poem he wrote, “Mastery in chanoyu is a matter of empathy, versatility, and experience. When these three are present and in balance, the person is capable of true understanding.”  I make no claims to mastery but I’m happy in knowing I’ve made enough advances in all three to feel a new sense of place in a larger tradition.

Yummy tea treats. One of the new students was helpful
in finding the best angle to take the picture.

So dear Groovers, what traditions are close to your heart? Talk to me about them in the comments section and do drop a link to your cyberhome if you want to take the conversation to a deeper place.

Song Choice: Be True to Your School by The Beach Boys

At Home in the Dark: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 37

Dear daylight blushes

at night’s dark revels. I see

truer by moonlight

where there are no barriers

and the masks are dropped away.

Commissioned Piece (Untitled)
by Mc Monster 
Used with permission

This piece was created for Imaginary Gardens with Real Toad's Art Flash prompt.

Liner Notes for this Groove: While I’m partial to warmer weather, I’m someone who finds the beauty in every season. Fall has its way of thrilling me, especially in October as we get closer to Halloween. It’s nice when my oddness feels fairly normal as people start to get in the spirit of the season.

My inner introvert agrees with the sentiment voiced by Alan Clark, “There are few nicer things than sitting up in bed, drinking strong tea, and reading”. The colder weather does lend itself to that. This darker time of the year usually has me becoming more introspective as well. I often find I get a little more creative as a result. I’m not sure what weird notions will sprout from my head as I stare into the dark, but I am planning on being quite ruthless about safeguarding my time to create.

Are you feeling the shift of seasons where you are Groovers? What’s your favorite thing about the time of year you currently find yourself in. Talk to me about it in the comments or feel free to drop a link to take the conversation deeper into your cyber home.

Song Choice: This is Halloween covered by Marilyn Manson

Maladroit: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 36

Sunlight's surprising
to green that's only known shade.
New growth is awkward
until gawky stems find strength
inside their curious selves.

This poem was created for Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads' Weekend Mini-Challenge: Maladroit. 

Liner Notes for this Groove:  One of the realizations I made after BookCon was I could be doing something more to promote my book, The Trouble with Wanting and Other Not-Quite Faerie Tales. Besides the fact that talking myself up feels about as pleasant as a sandpaper massage, there’s another barrier—I’m a survivor of an MLM. 

I don’t want to go into which MLM it was, but direct sales make me feel as cheesy as a car salesman. I worry I’ll sound like this. But the good news is I’m not operating as part of a company with dubious business ethics. As awkward as I feel about selling, I have a little more faith in what I have to offer this time around. I’ve not only gotten some really positive comments about the book, I've already had several requests for autographed copies, one from as far away as Finland. (Thanks Khaya!) 

So after imbibing a steadying cup of tea (because as Cassandra Clare said in City of Bones, "Tea. I find that both settles the stomach and concentrates the mind. Wonderful drink, tea.") I've decided a couple of things. First, I've signed up to vend at a Nerdtino, a Latinx themed comic book and geek convention on November 2nd. Second, I'll be offering autographed copies directly for sale from this site. Use the Contact Me section on the side or write to me at kestrel dot trueseeker @ gmail dot com 

Both of these things are new and somewhat unsettling for me, but you've got to get through some awkwardness to get some growth.

Photo by Alexandra Gorn on Unsplash

So dear Groovers, can recall any times you've gotten out of your comfort zone and it ended up being a good thing? Share your story (and boost my spirits a little) by telling me about it in the comments section. As always, if you want to continue the conversation at your cyberhome, feel free to include a link as well. 

Song Choice: Lose Yourself by Eminem

It's OK to Not Like Things: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 33

You don’t prove power

by hitting the defenseless.

Strong people punch up

and don’t hide in fake kindness

to justify their cruelty.

This poem is linked to Poets United's Poetry Pantry 492.

Liner Notes for this Groove:

“Sir, I did not count your glasses of wine, why should you number up my cups of tea?”

― Samuel Johnson, The Life of Samuel Johnson, Vol 2

There’s no question we are living in some serious rough times. A lot of us often rely on admittedly goofy things to cope like indulging in silly interactive memes because holy fuck, people who look like me are getting caged and shot.

So I found it more than a little distasteful to see someone who has set themselves up as something of an advisor or a guide of people to purposely use belittling language to describe others who engage in the sort of thing I described. There was the tiniest bit of back pedaling when confronted with the fact their words were insensitive, but ultimately they reaffirmed their phrasing, hoping its aggressiveness would get through to people.

Yeah, I guess that’s one way to go with it.

But how about this…how about not going out of your way to shame people for harmless things they do to deal with the daily suckage that spews at them constantly? How about seeing that any form of lighthearted human connection, that involves nothing mean-spirited or blood pressuring raising, is a good thing, even if it isn’t your thing?

I think the world could use more of those moments of brief connection. Admittedly, there’s a decent chance it won’t be all that deep but a.) maybe the equivalent of a sugary bon-bon of interaction is all we need or can handle in a particular moment and b.) very deep and true friendships have had their start in silliness. All I know is that when I’ve been the goofball comedy relief a friend has needed, we both came out feeling better for the experience.

So dear Groovers, do you indulge in goofy little things to get a smile going on those tough days? Tell me all about it in the comments section and do be sure to drop a link to your cyberhome if you want to keep the conversation going there too.

These little crows have the right idea.
Bloom by Magic Love Crow
Follow her blog for more whimsically fun art.

Song Choice: Smile from My Little Pony, in English and Spanish because I can.

Fare Thee Well: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 31

Photo by Anders Jildén on Unsplash

Wind scatters petals
sighing perfumed memories
as they fly away.
Still, I am grateful for spring
and the sight of the full bloom.

This poem is linked to the Tuesday Platform over at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads.

Liner Notes for this Groove: Someone who has been a dear friend to my husband and me since college is going to be moving away this week. Logically we know this is the best thing for him and his family. The cost of living will be much less, there are older relatives there who need care, and littles who will be adored by said relatives. But even though we live in a golden age of communication, we're still really going to miss the whole family.  

We got to spend some time with them before they headed out on Sunday. First we did Chinese buffet and as Ella Leya said in The Orphan Sky, “The conversation ran as fluidly as the tea out of the samovar’s crooked nose.” Then we hung out in our mutual friends' arcade and played like we were still all college kids (until the aforementioned little ones were ready to drop). It was one of the best ways to say goodbye that I could have imagined. 

Here's to Woody and his family...safe travels, best of luck. House Driks will miss you.

Song Choice: Saying Goodbye from Muppets Take Manhattan

Excavated Magic: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 28

I could not begin
to feel my buried magic
until I saw it
as beautiful as a star,
at home in her precious dark.

This poem is linked to Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads' Tuesday Platform.

Liner Notes for this Groove: When I was a kid, I didn’t see myself too often in art, and not at all in the fantastical imagery I loved so much. There’s a lot that’s wrong with this era we live in, no question. But some of the little joys are seeing a.) the rise of indie artists and b.) that more and more of them feature women of color.

This isn’t something I like discussing too much at all, but I will say that when I was young, I was often reminded features like mine were not the ideal. So when I see pretty art celebrating looks like mine, I kind of have to buy it. Part of me feels a little vain for indulging in it, but the part of me that’s still an awkward 9-year-old girl is over the moon. Natasha Porter once said, “If life is a cup of tea, gratitude is the honey that makes it sweet.” I’m very grateful for these bits of beauty in a world that really needs it.

Art work by Don Martin.
You can purchase more of his fantastical art in his Etsy and Red Bubble shop.
Follow him on Facebook or Instagram.

Song Choice: Soy Yo by Bomba Estéreo 

Just the Basics: Blogging Around with Rommy, Week 24

My family is as drawn to the ink-blue bays of Maine as surely as the mosquitoes are drawn to drinking our blood. But any space not reserved for bug-spray is at a premium. We are four travelers with interests that accumulate stuff—stuff to entertain ourselves and stuff to share with the near-family that meets us there.

My husband’s hoard glitters with dice scattered over decks stacked with monsters and mountains, resting on a foundation of books that have helped him build adventures with stranger things. My son dithers in deciding which author will be his tour guide during the moments not filled by games and exploring the shore. My daughter is ever prepared for microdisasters. Her bags hold the bug spray and band aids. She is keeper of the snacks, plotter of bathroom breaks, and monarch of the mundane but easily forgotten things.

I of course have my realm of tea.  Noel Coward’s fearful question “Wouldn't it be dreadful to live in a country where they didn't have tea?” hovers over when I pack. It would be dreary to go two weeks without my favorites, and I cannot disappoint my near-niece and god-daughter and leave their preferred blends behind either. Fortunately for me, my words travel well, even to places with lackluster wi-fi. And that ink-blue bay works wonders for my inspiration.

Two weeks of life crammed

pell-mell onto a car roof.

I unpack it all,

brewing my words and good tea

steeped in the sight of the sea.

I always look forward to the view from the cabin every summer. Is there anything
you are looking forward to this summer dear Groovers? Let's talk in the comments. 

Song Choice: In the Sea by America from the movie The Last Unicorn

This poem is linked to Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads' Tuesday Platform.

Air and Fire's Girl: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 22

Air’s girl dances fast,

fire waltzing to a song

she knows in her heart.

Flame and wind will always be

hers, even when she stands still.

Song Choice: Slow Hand by the Pointer Sisters

This post is linked with Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads' Tuesday Platform.

Liner Notes for this Groove: If I may be permitted to get a little woo…I am one of the airiest earth signs known to humankind. According to western astrology, although my sun was chilling in Taurus on my birthday, a butt load of my planets were hanging around in signs that are associated with the element of air (and I have a couple of things dancing around in fire too). Someone who is an expert on such matters told me that when they first met me, they thought I was a Gemini—until they heard me wax poetic over tea (then I outted myself with my Taurean tendencies).

Whether you place any stock in such matters or not, this much is clear—I have a tendency to want to do things fast. That’s not always such a terrible thing (I’m going to be delighted about that time I got the winning goal in sportsball forever), but in tea ceremony…yeah, it’s not really encouraged, no matter how well you know the moves.

I mean, you could. It just probably won't be right.

Funnily enough I found the answer back in air…in my breath that is. On my teacher’s suggestion I started pacing my movements to flow in synchrony with my breath, so each movement took on a rhythm that was fully mine. Not only that, it was a way for my personal style (LOL, my inner fire for my love of tea) to come through and be seen so much more clearly by guests.

In The Book of Tea Kakuzo Okakura wrote “Teaism is a cult founded on the adoration of the beautiful among the sordid facts of everyday existence…It is essentially a worship of the Imperfect, as it is a tender attempt to accomplish something possible in this impossible thing we know as life.” I am rather imperfect at being an earth sign, but in my practice of tea I can honor my inner air with my breath and my inner fire with my passion for the art form. My earthy self can take plenty of joy at eating the tea sweets, while my watery side delights in simply drinking the tea.

So dear Groovers, what to you is worth slowing down for? Or what's new with you this week? Let's talk about it, and as always, if you'd like to continue the conversation on your cyberhome, include the web address in the comments. 

One Seed, Ten Thousand Seeds: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 18

The shade of a blessed tree watches over the seedlings that came from one righteous act. One of six thousand good deeds seems so small against the six million lost in lightning and storms, in the showers that choked. But to see the seedlings growing strong and true to their roots, in this place where my grafted limbs have been trained to do justice to the sublime green—this sends a fresh seed into my heart for me to treasure when I am weary in the fight for the soil I’ve been planted in.

A modest hero

defined by quiet resolve

and strange defiance

inspires my jaded heart

to go and resist again.

Song Choice: The Change by Garth Brooks

Liner Notes for This Groove: I was so very honored to be part of a special friendship tea ritual Urasenke Philadelphia held in honor of the son of Chiune Sugihara (a Japanese diplomat who saved 6,000+ Jews during WWII) and the son of one of the people he saved, Rabbi Shimon Goldman. I’ve often had reason to agree with the quote “Where there is tea, there is hope” by Arthur Wing Pinero. But I felt especially hopeful serving tea that afternoon.

This was the set up we used for the ceremony. I know it isn't very visible but the script on the tea container translates to "One Seed, Ten Thousand Seeds." Tea tools are chosen very carefully to suit the occasion. I think that this was the perfect tea container for that day.

This poem is linked to Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads' Tuesday Platform.

How's your week been dear Groovers? Anything making you feel a little hopeful? Catch me up with your world in the comments section. And feel free to work in a link in your comments if you want to take the discussion onto your cyberhome.