The Point is to Walk It

Last night I dreamed about walking. Perhaps because I am in Lisboa and walking a great deal, reading maps and finding and losing myself in where I am going. Finding that the places you planned to go are not nearly the gift of the places  you often end up by misake. Or perhaps the mistake is a plan you simply cannot see being written.

Recently,  a new poet friend, Oscar Bermeo said, in regards to the road and Machado's poem about the same, "The point is to walk it."

PROVERBIOS Y CANTARES - XXIX

Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino y nada más;
Caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.
Al andar se hace el camino,
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante no hay camino
sino estelas en la mar.

Wanderer, your footsteps
the road, and nothing more;
wanderer, we have no road,
we make the road by walking.
As you walk you make the road,
and to look back
is to see that never
can we pass this way again.
Wanderer, there is no road,
only traces in the sea.
 -Antonio Machado
 

Last night I dreamed of walking. Today, I wrapped my lunch in a map of the city and set out to find what I cannot yet imagine.

Seven Gables and 22 Artists

How many times has someone mentioned, you should see this (fill in the blank) exhibit, film, theatre production...and you don't. They make a point to tell you how incredible the experience was, and you still don't see it. If you are like me these opportunities missed happen all the time. Because we are all so terribly important and very busy, right? From now on, I'm skinning that excuse. Live. What is anyone ever waiting for? Life to show up at your front door? Tyler Durden, one of my favorite literary characters, said, " I want you to hit me as hard as you can." Art should do that. And the best work does, it gets in your face making demands and asking questions running the spectrum of terrible to beautiful. Today was on that spectrum.


This week, the beloved and talented Michael Houser, mentioned The House of Seven  Gables exhibit at The Visual Arts Center in Normal, Illinois on the ISU campus. And thankfully, I packed up with a pal and went. You can too, until April 7th. Here's me saying to you, check it out. You can spend an hour or three.

The exhibit includes mix media pieces, assemblage, film, and canvas. The work speaks to space or the lack thereof, how space is denied, in particular family spaces, distorted realities, and claustrophobia. And a few nooses. That's really not a description, you have to experience it. Warning: don't go behind the black curtain if you are faint of heart, or fear shag carpet. That was my second favorite feature. My favorite was an assembled book by artist Dario Robleto. The description of his work alone was worth the trip.

I researched his work once I got home. If you are anywhere and can see what he does, do so. His visions come to life are a wonderment. Here is a link to an interview with him at  Guernica online. My heart was set on Hawthorne today, and I came home with Robleto. You won't be sorry to see The Witch Stick by Brian Kapernekas, either.

You may not find favor in the pieces that I did, but something will speak to you. In The House of Seven Gables, Hawthorne wrote, "Life is made of marble and mud." What glorious and mysterious works we make of it with our hands.

Going to the "Weird" City

One of the most beautiful words a writer gets to hear is "yes". Sometimes, we have long dry spells waiting for the oasis of acceptance. This is the season of both acceptance and rejection letters as so many of us check our inboxes for responses from conferences, residencies, fellowships, and of course the ever rolling train of submissions.

I was thrilled to recently find my name on the list of 2013 CantoMundo Fellows. I cannot wait to be in the excellent company of so many incredibly talented and accomplished poets this June in Austin, Texas.

When I was a little girl being called "weird" used to make me cry. To be completely honest, it stings a bit even now. (Mean people, go on notice, you know who  you are!) So I think it is apt that CantoMundo is held in a city whose slogan "Keep Austin Weird," fits perfectly with yours truly. Score one for weird little sisters everywhere. May we forever dress funny, talk funny, run like girls, perfect the art of hypnotizing goats, make cardboard shoes for everyone we love, be unafraid to wear the aforementioned cardboard shoes in public places with your siblings who have refused to wear their own (even though they fit them), write poetry on our bedroom walls when we run out of paper but not inspiration, bring home strays, read the dictionary because words make us happy, accept no substitute for the authentically strange and mysterious, and never, ever, bow to the pressure of the often suggested, "Can't you just be like everyone else?" Answer: No. Hell, no. Keeping it weird, like a Boss!