I didn’t always agree with Roger Ebert’s movie reviews, but damn, do I agree with this. What a writer, what a kind, thoughtful and giving man he was. And what an incredible impact he had on so many.
Now … did’ja know that writing for 15 minutes a day increases the writer’s well being? Let’s make ourselves a little happier with a throw-down today, shall we?
(oh, you just knew i’d say that, didn’t you?)
I had a different throw-down prompt scheduled for this week, but then my friend Ruth* sent me an email with this poem included saying “I thought your writer babes might appreciate this poem.”
Yeah, I thought they might too. (the scheduled throw-down can wait …)
Love this. Hope you will too.
*Ruth Flohr facilitated the Women Who Run With Words writing group that I belonged to back in Berkeley, CA many moons ago. When I started talking about moving back east, I told her I didn’t know how I was going to make it without the group. Then Ruth said the four words that changed the direction of my life and work: You’ll start your own.
So, if you’re here and you like what I’m doing, you have the fab Ruth Flohr to thank …
(now go write …) xo
If this is your first time checking out Throw-down Thursday, you can read about what it is, and why we do it … here, or you can just dive in w/out any specific guidelines. (there aren’t that many anyway…)
Check out the visual below, see what it brings up, then throw-down some words in the comments, in your journal, on your blog, on the FB page. Write from personal experience, create a bit of fiction … whatever comes up.
Enjoy meeting yourself on the page.
Dr. Joyce Brothers, psychologist and “TV personality” died last week. She was so embedded into US popular culture that strangers felt like they knew her. So when the news broke about her death, my Twitter feed and FB lit up with lots of “#RIPdrJoyceBrothers” messages.
The woman was a pioneer, an inspiration, and something of an institution. For years, you couldn’t turn on the TV without seeing her on the news or talk shows sharing info about previously taboo subjects with authority and a matter-of-fact ease. Then she started showing up doing silly, campy stuff on game shows, The Love Boat, and movies like The Naked Gun. (and even though she wasn’t actually in the skit, i still crack up thinking of gilda radner’s roseanne roseannadanna skit that included her.)
Dr. Joyce was also a friend of my family’s from the time I was a kid. After being a little in awe of her at the beginning (she was dr. joyce brothers, after all), in time, she became simply Joyce. Both reserved and funny, she was sometimes shy, and sometimes a powerhouse in a teensy body. She was also a whirling dervish of an entrepreneur who taught me some important things about blazing your own trail and crafting a non-traditional career and life.
SOME STUFF I LEARNED FROM DR. JOYCE BROTHERS
SAY YES. I saw Joyce at a family party right around the time that I was starting to envision my someday-business, and I asked how she managed to craft such a unique career. (this was way before folks were talking about creative, multiple-stream-business, ”renaissance businesses” or multipotentialite lives…)
She told me that she didn’t consciously set out to craft anything. It happened almost by accident. She said “yes” to college, “yes” to studying psychology, “yes” to marriage and family, but beyond that, she said she just grabbed opportunities that came her way and stayed open to possibilities. When something seemed interesting or fun, she’d say “yes” again.
(you can read about some of her big ‘yeses’ – like auditioning for the $64,000 question … and beyond – here in the new york times obit …)
SHARE WHAT MATTERS, BUT DON’T TAKE YOURSELF TOO SERIOUSLY. Though Joyce was whip smart (she got a doctorate when not a lot of women were getting their undergraduate degrees, much less graduate ones), she fell into her career of TV psychologist (cause, well, see above.) and though she was first and foremost a psychologist, she found that she really enjoyed the lighter stuff like the talk shows and the silly guest spots on movies and TV shows, and she saw that it helped keep her and her work out there. She was also secure enough to let herself be spoofed in the process.
YOU CAN’T BE EVERYTHING TO EVERYONE, SO PICK YOUR THING(S). Joyce was an innovator with her television psychology spots and radio programs (you must remember, this was WAY before dr. ruth, dr. phil and all the oprah-promoted coaches and live-your-best-life gurus …), but some psychologists didn’t like what she was doing; they thought she diminished the profession by going on television – even when she was talking about psychological matters – and she got a fair bit of flack for it. At the same time, some who did appreciate her advice column, radio program(s) and television appearances thought she was cheapening herself with the guest spots in movies, game shows and sitcoms.
But guess what? She didn’t care. She knew who she was. She was helping people with her columns and television appearances, and she also had a blast doing guest spots on TV and in the movies.
She had a family, good friends and incredible experiences. She blazed her own trail. And she paved the way for many of us crafting our own creative, change-the-world businesses today.
Now, I’m not sure that Joyce would have said these things were tenants to live by or anything like that … but they came through as I observed her in action over the years. She made it clear that you could have a family and work. You could do your thing – shine it bright and clear and stay open to the opportunities that cross your path – and do the work without worrying what everyone else thinks. Just get out and do your thing.
(really, go do it. i think joyce would approve …)
Today is National Sea Monkey Day. No kidding.
Let’s see you write about that. (or whatever comes up …)
(are you new to throw-down thursday? go here to get the scoops on how we play.)
It’s almost 9:30pm here in Israel where I’m visiting Doclicious’s fam. It’s been an interesting trip, with lots of learning, and some sitting in the sun. There’s not a lot of time to share the learning as I work to navigate this part-Hebrew/part-English keypad on Doclicious’s sister’s computer … but I thought this shot – taken in an Israeli market the day before yesterday – might be a fun jump start for today’s throw-down.
(and yeah, those strawberries were amazing.)
Hey peeps … sorry I’m late today. Had an almost-all-day meeting, then hit traffic coming back, blahblahblah. (y’know. life juggling.)
Anyway … if this is your first time visiting Throw-down Thursday, you can read about what it is, and why we do it, or you can just dive in w/out needing specific guidelines. (because there aren’t many anyway.) Check out the prompt below, then throw-down some words in the comments, in your journal, on your blog, on the FB page. Write from personal experience, create a bit of fiction … whatever comes up. Doesn’t really matter. Cause the more you write, the more you see.
Wrapping up National Poetry Month with another fabulous poem from Rumi …
One night a man was crying “Allah, Allah!”
His lips grew sweet with the praising,
until a cynic said:
“So … I have heard you calling out, but have you ever gotten any response?”
The man had no answer for that.
He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.
He dreamed he saw Khidr, the guide of souls in a thick, green foliage.
“Why did you stop praising?”
“Because I’ve never heard anything back.”
“This longing you express is the return message.”
The grief you cry out from
draws you toward union.
Your pure sadness that wants help
is the secret cup.
Listen to the moan of a dog for its master.
That whining is the connection.
There are love dogs no one knows the names of.
Give your life to be one of them.
What are your Love Dogs?
National Poetry Month is drawing to a close (sigh) … but I hope you’ve enjoyed splashing around in the poetry waters with me.
How ’bout splashing in this one today? One of my favorites by Persian poet/mystic Hafiz …
…
It’s Poem in Your Pocket Day. A wonderful addition to National Poetry Month – another fun way to integrate poetry into your life. There are so many ways to celebrate – print a copy of your favorite poem and carry it in your pocket throughout the day. Share it with friends, or read it to yourself. Maybe make a few copies and hand them out, or leave them in public places. (check out all the other ways to play on the poetry.org website.)
I’m sharing a few of my own, starting with the first poem that really grabbed me as a kid: the delicious Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle Received from a Friend Called Felicity, and a choice selection by Rumi, and the former Rhode Island Poet Laurate Lisa Starr.
Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle
Received from a Friend Called Felicity
By John Tobias
During that summer
When unicorns were still possible;
When the purpose of knees
Was to be skinned;
When shiny horse chestnuts
(Hollowed out
Fitted with straws
Crammed with tobacco
Stolen from butts
In family ashtrays)
Were puffed in green lizard silence
While straddling thick branches
Far above and away
From the softening effects
Of civilization;
During that summer–
Which may never have been at all;
But which has become more real
Than the one that was–
Watermelons ruled.
Thick, pink, imperial slices
Melting frigidly on sun-parched tongues
Dribbling from chins;
Leaving the best part,
The black bullet seeds,
To be spit out in rapid fire
Against the wall
Against the wind
Against each other;
And when the ammunition was spent,
There was always another bite:
It was a summer of limitless bites,
Of hungers quickly felt
And quickly forgotten
With the next careless gorging.
The bites are fewer now.
Each one is savored lingeringly,
Swallowed reluctantly.
But in a jar put up by Felicity,
The summer which maybe never was
Has been captured and preserved.
And when we unscrew the lid
And slice off a piece
And let it linger on our tongue:
Unicorns become possible again.
And then there is this, by Rumi (which many may recognize from an oft quoted line within it …):
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
And finally, this one, by the wonderful poet Lisa Starr – a friend of a friend who I got to meet a few years back at the wonderful Dodge Poetry Festival – called Because.
Lately she’s been falling in love everywhere—
at the market, in the pharmacy, always in the cafeteria
sliding her tray over the metal rails,
last week with the hands of the attendant at a gas station.
It’s not right, she knows, but still, she can’t help it.
Sometimes it happens all day long.
Yesterday at the campus it was everything again—
The way the postmaster, on lunch break, went whistling past,
or how the frisbee players sing the quad.
The way some students stay after class, that usually gets her.
Cashiers, people who sing at stop lights—all fair game.
Cab drivers—forget it.
With ice cream scoopers, with their little paper hats,
it is often love at first sight,
and she will never forget the boy at the sandwich shop—
the way he said “miss, would you like anything to drink?”
to the 80-year-old woman in front of her,
then when it was her turn said “Ma’am” instead.
Later today, blessed by all this loving
she will make some tea and play a violin concerto
for her dog who is deaf.
She will play the music as loud as it will go
because she can, and because somehow, he’ll hear it
and he will stand on the porch of the fine yellow house,
glowing.
She will be all choked up
because the lawn chairs
have never been this white before
and because, tired ears flapping
in a soft Autumn breeze,
the old dog will bark back his joy.
Now … how ’bout you throw-down a few lines about what these may bring up … or about your favorite poem. Or whatever you like.
