April 3, 2020 - Dispatches from SIP - an evening's walk.

Such light. 

Now write.

April 2, 2020 - Thursday, Dipatches from the SIP: Paper Rock Scissors

Writing Prompt: Paper Rock Scissors

You  never know about chicken;  they hide, for one thing. Locking up my neighbor's chicken coop for the night while they are away, I count to be sure they are all inside - first there are 11 and then 13 and then maybe 12?  Should be an even dozen of the tawny, red-wattled hens. But they get all bamboozled up, Scissors, as I call one of them, over Rock and Paper behind Scissors and then when I look away, one flutters down from a higher perch and they are cooing and moving their necks and watching my finger as I try to count them and now Paper is over Scissors and Rock has moved behind Eight Ball. Finally, I see how they are all layered and in place and accounted for.  Whew. I check the wooden nest-boxes for eggs. I don't want to leave any behind overnight.

So I've been handling unwashed eggs, still warm from the  chicken, but salmonella seems like small potatoes now. I know how to deal with it - good strong handwashing, for one thing, antibiotics, for another, should other methods fail.   It's this new disease we don't know and the future we can't see that has us tied in knots.

And yet, when could we ever really see the future? No doubt, much of the world  will be the same or similar when we return to it - there will still be roads and cars, shops and sales, banks and schools. There will still be work. And gardens. Some things could be very different - more telecommuting might bring about less traffic, cleaner air.  We might return to the way olden days of delivery of groceries and eggs and goods, as a habit, if nothing else. But we have to get through this first, subdue and subjugate  this new disease that has put a huge dent in our fabric of living, twisted it, rent it, gnawed huge holes in it.

Rock, Paper, Scissors - what solutions will be used to quell Virus? Testing, physical barriers, social distancing - how many times will we go through this routine before a Vaccine puts a hex on this beast? We can't know this now - we'll have to experience it. And take notes.

April 1, 2020, Weds. No Foolishness Today. Dispatches from SIP, 2020

Yesterday, March 31, was Cesar Chavez Day in California, or in the local parlance of the Rincon Way Ranch, NWFH  ~ Not Working From Home Day -

So, of course, we tackled making face masks. Our pattern is rather clunky -- and then we found that working a sewing machine is too close to working  a computer; our eyes crossed and our backs gave out.  We'll try again. There is such a need for them. This is the Victory Garden Effort of our times. Do you have pattern to recommend? Please post in the comments!

Poppies along the levee at Hamilton Field

Today, April 1, doesn't feel like much of a joking, foolish kind of day, so I haven't bothered with trying out a prank. I don't think anyone I know has. Even if it might have leavened the mood, things feel far too serious for pranks and light-hearted Tom-foolery.

Instead, I took a socially-distanced walk with an old friend I only just recently re-met. Back in the days of Time Before Coronavirus II (TBCV) walking six-feet apart would have seemed almost Monty Python-esque, like some bizarre challenge:  how far can you walk, keeping six-feet apart and still keep a connection going? Turns out, it is quite possible, especially as the connections run deep and the concerns, fears and politics align so well between us.

We met back when our kids shared grades and schools in Petaluma, but we hadn't seen or talked to each other in many years. There was a move to the mid-West for her family and then a return to the Bay Area upon retirement, though not back to Petaluma. And though I knew we were within spitting distance of each other after our move down to Marin, it took a chance encounter on the Hamilton Levee in mid-March for us to fully reconnect. We are both huggers, and while physical contact was already completely verboten at that point, we snuck in one long hug that first meeting, among avid talk between us. We couldn't help ourselves. There was history in the hug and a gladness for renewed friendship.

Today we do keep our distance, offering a wave and a touch to the heart as our greeting and then walking a long 2-mile loop, catching up on each other's lives, our kids, our grandkids. Going over the new rules now - and how devastating it feels not to be in literal touch with the littlest ones. Even though we understand and acknowledge the need for distance, that's one of the hardest to endure.

Then I went home, without sharing coffee or tea or a tour of her  new-to-me house, and I kept working on making masks.  Here's the NYT article with instructions on making the pleated kind of mask. Think I'll try this one next. I have a friend in Utah who needs them, desperately. Well, I think we will all need them soon enough.


p.p.s. Doctors Plead for PPE
https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/19/us/hospitals-coronavirus-ppe-shortage.html

March 31, 2020 - Tuesday. Week Two: Dispatches from SIP. Shoppers report: Costco.

In this Age of Sequestering, we are trying to take turns going out for supplies. With three adults hunkering down at the house, it's not so bad. If each of us goes out once during the week,  most of our bases are covered with each person only having to venture into the contact-possible zones once.  Anyway, that's the plan.

It was my turn for the big run, so I went to Costco in Novato to stock up for a few weeks. Pretty organized, I thought; it felt fairly secure. The parking lots looked to be about a quarter full. If that. And sure, a goodly line to get in,  but everyone was patient, sticking to their square of sidewalk, with one full square between each of us. Therefore, the line was long in term of distance - along the whole huge warehouse, around the corner, past the auto shop and out almost to the back access road - but short in terms of the number of people waiting, maybe 30 to 40 folks standing about 8 feet apart. Plenty of people wearing masks.  I felt socially irresponsible, only carrying wipes soaked in rubbing alcohol in one hand which I planned to use to wipe the handle of my cart. However, Costco employees were sanitizing the cart handles as they brought them back from the parking lots.

I jammed the wet, alcohol-fragrant wipe in my pocket. I thanked the young man at the door who was letting us in, ten or fifteen at a time. This made the line jump up quickly ... and then stop for a time, like some sort of erratic conga line.

There was a sign on an easel just inside the door noting what was available and what wasn't. Toilet paper was back in stock, though only one package at a time per customer. No ibuprofen right now, which had been sitting on my list since I learned that was the preferred pain med for the 'Rona. We'll see if we ever get any, as it seems to be out of stock everywhere, online, offline, IRL.

With only 100 shoppers in the cavernous store, customers could easily have an entire wide aisle to themselves.  It got tight around the meats and produce and in the frozen foods, but employees with wide white wipes were disinfecting the door handles along one side, then the other. Meanwhile, I was dipping my fingers into the alcohol-soaked wipe dampening my jacket pocket. I made it a point to only pick up what I was going to put in my cart. Which meant I - and everyone, I noticed - stared at things a lot, cocking our heads and necks, squinting to read ingredients written sideways or in tiny print along the bottom.

Coffee (two bags of French Roast, yes!),  crackers, sugars, some tri-tip, peanut butter pretzels, frozen fish, Annie's Mac N'Cheese. A few things for our neighbors across the street who shouldn't be going out to stores. Some little potatoes, onions. Rice. But no hands soaps to speak of. Well, perhaps in a few weeks.

Once I got to the check out stations, there wasn't much of a wait to get out. I had to hold my receipt up to be marked as I left the store, but otherwise, I exited with most of what I came for, plus a few extras, which was always the way of that place. And as long as we have coffee, I'm not worried about toilet paper.

And so here, we are, the end of Week Two. We got through it - and we already know we're in it for a much longer haul, until the first week of May, for sure.  But personally, I'd rather go long than go short on this particular play.

March 28 2020 SIP Journal: "Try Eye Hugs" from Molly Wertz

'Round about the first week of SIP, perhaps even the first day, when we were all getting used to the funny rules of social distancing for virus protection, my friend Molly Wertz came by for a walk around the marsh trail just down the road from my house. I think we were mostly 6 feet apart, but these were early days and we had to practice. We talked of many things, of walruses and kings, of our children who had grown up around each other, and our grandchildren, who sometimes see each other; we mulled over  how to hold each other without touching, of elbow bumps, hip-bumps, footsie-bumps. Then she went out to Forestville and wrote this piece about eye hugs, which ran that weekend in the Press Democrat. Check it out; it's a lovely piece! To Stay Connected, Try Eye Hugs


  https://www.pressdemocrat.com/opinion/10837506-181/close-to-home-to-stay

Monday, March 30, 2020 - Community Howl, 8 p.m. - Dispatches from SIP -

Tonight, at 8 p.m. sharp,  the three us stepped outside the house and the howls, yips and yodels were already echoing against the hill on the far side of North San Pedro Road. We lifted our faces, framed our voices with our hands and joined in for two minutes of unabashed wolf-style howling. It was thrilling, uplifiting, a communal rebuke against the physical restraints we all must operate under these days if we are to slow the transmission of COVID-19.  A primal yowling, a release of anxiety.  We heard yippers, we  heard long involved rolling ar-hooooooos!  but all were expressions of gratitude and support for the nurses (some who live on our street) and doctors and sonographers and EMTs and the myriad of medical personnel risking their lives so that we can survive the pandemic. And isn't that the very definition of a soldier?

Our medical folks are on the front lines, exposed to this relentless enemy in countless, unending ways. They have been left unprotected and unsupported, dangling in the wind,  through the mismanagement of the pandemic crises from the very start by Drumpf and his Republican henchmen (you can read most of the sordid details here) -  most certainly many of our valiant Soldiers of Medicine will die in this fight. Yet they return to the fray, even if exhausted, sick, missing their families, leaving a sick loved one at home to fight the illness alone. Heroes, all.

And so we take the cue from Italy and Spain and France, where the sequestered citizens step outside at 8 p.m. every night and applaud their health care workers. It's the least we can do -- though of course, we've added some unique twists to the practice.  Howling like wolves - it seems appropriate in this land of Jack London and  The Call of the Wild, in this territory where coyotes are snooping around our spaces. Wonder what the coyotes  think of this Community Howl?  Have the Humans gone mad, lost their collective minds?

Or maybe, we are finally getting it, that the community that howls together, stays together, through thick and  thin, in sickness and in health..

March 29, 2020 - Sunday. The Four (Five?) Things That Fall from the Sky.

A mixed-bag Sunday - some clouds, some sun, some rain. Two newspapers grace the table, replete with articles about the rise of the virus, the state of the nation, the condition of the world.  But I am compelled to dig, to plant, to consider what sunlight, dirt, wind would mean to a lilac tree, to irises, to blue-flowered penstamen, to the small grasses I'd gaffled from our house on B Street just before we moved, pulling them from the soil, hey babes, you're coming with us.

It takes time and study to learn how the elements play out across a new lot, how the geometry and vectors of the house interfere with the four things that come down from the sky - sunlight, rain, fog, snow (not so much snow around here, I must admit). Oobleck is that  fifth option, submitted for our approval by Dr Suess. I try to read where the wind plays and dallies, where the sun might break through the future foliage of the mulberry tree, as gauged from the just leafing-out buds. These are landfill lots, thin topsoil sitting on yellow-brown clay and lots of infill-rocks. It takes a lot of amending to provide beds amenable to roots. If we had to survive on what we could grow out of our plot this year, it would not be pretty.

So I concentrate on flowers for now, deploying them like little thin miners to tunnel through mixture of rocks and the dense, gluey clay-stuff. This is not rich adobe clay, so dark, almost black, with nutrients. This clay is anemic, pale, almost yellowish-brown,  old dried up oobleck perhaps, a continuous layer that seals up against water and rots the roots. One must dig  through this layer, down into the old marsh below or build up, with raised beds or mounding habitats.

And so through the sweeping waves of sun and rain-drizzle and cloud-shadow, I dig and plant, convincing myself of a summer and a fall that will arrive. Yes, indeed, it will. But first we must get through all of this. And we can only do that together.

March 27, 2020 Friday - Dispatches from SIP- Poppies On The Hill

A walk to the top of a local hill - because we're not driving too far out of our area for our walkies - brought us brilliant orange poppies against a chilly blue spring sky.

We're lucky to have Governor Gavin Newsom going to bat for us citizens in the State of California.

We're facing a major change in the way we will conduct our lives going forward, both in the short and long term. But we can do it; it will happen.  It is happening

In fact, there is little choice here. We can deal with it well or badly, but we deal with it we must. Until we have the vaccines or other tools to control the virus, we will continue live our life in its shadow, adjusting protocols to minimize transmission.

When the big picture gets overwhelming, focus on the small. The poppies on the hill are doing that for us quite well today.

March 26, 2020 - Dispatches from SIP

Today the US became the country with the most cases of COVID-19 in the world, 85,000+. And we aren't even testing everyone.
So, yeah, guess this will easily be over  by Apr 12.
Not.


Today, we placed first
In COVID-19 cases
Nothing to celebrate

March 25, 2020 Dispatches from SIP - ZoomTime!

Seems like we are all Zoming now (video conferencing, that is)  - Zoom Yoga, Zoom Poetry Readings, Zoom Koffee Klatches, Zoom Activism,  Zoom Writing and Painting and Parenting and Family Gatherings -- it's all there, somewhere. I could probably be in two or three Zoom sessions a day, if I didn't insist on gardening. We might be maintaining social distance, as in the photo below of a once bustling and busy walking spot in Marin, but we are connecting more than ever. At least digitally.

My friends Micki and Julie have decided to use the term "physical distancing" rather than "social distancing" because their social calendars are all filled up, leaving just enough time between sessions for a snack break or a walk around the block. Or a tussle with the dog.  "Social distancing" sounds so bleak and depressing as if we've been ostracized in that medieval kind of way.  But really, it's the physical distance that's so necessary - that 6 precious feet of protection that the virus can't jump so well.  Isolation is so difficult, it feels like punishment because we crave social closeness, the hand clasp, the touch on the shoulder, the ability to see faces, especially, to look into people's eyes.  We glean a highly nuanced secondary communication from faces, absorbing information unconsciously and this makes video conferencing feel like a fuller communication.

Zooming onward, forward, together.

A friendly cormorant by the Civic Center Lagoon

A socially distant Marin Civic Center Lagoon

March 24,Dispatches from SIP, First Week: A Fugitive Spring:

In an odd fugitive spring, an odd, topsy-turvey kind of day with rain and sun in almost equal measure. 

It's been a full week of Shelter in Place. We have hunkered down. We have ordered groceries and supplies online. We've gone out to storea as infrequently as possible. We are stocking up on basics - flour, rice, sugar, coffee, beer.  We make dinner every night and eat it together, because, well, what else do we have to do? Who else do we have to see?

This was a day of two walks out on the marsh, one in the morning wet and windy, the other in the evening with high puffy clouds, deep bright slant of sun and only a touch of rain. We live out in an odd corner of the world, a kind of a backwater, a bit forgotten, without much foot traffic or visitors. We had only just moved here about six months ago, not long before the fires and outages that ravaged Northern California again.  Although I miss my old town of Petaluma dearly,  I now appreciate this sense of distance, tucked out at the end of East San Rafael. While we have plenty of neighbors and most are around for most of the day, we sure do keep our physical distance.

I think about the kids, no longer in daycare, no longer in school, no longer going through the dance of socialization, of friendship, of physical playtime together.  What is this like for a four-year-old, a five -year-old?

It reminds me of those summers when I was four and five and polio was alive in the world. There was a kind of terror that underlay almost any sickness. Especially in the summer. One girl in my kindergarten class wore braces as a result of polio; those of us sitting by her would loosen and tighten the little wing nuts by her knees that allowed her to sit or stand. Spasms would rocket through her legs sometimes and she'd claw at the braces, in tears. She was only five, too.

I remember the delirious freedom associated with the polio vaccine. It wasn't just the sugar cubes it was administered with. It was being able to swim again in the ponds and streams, because the bacterium was most often contracted in water.  My mother was in tears, bowing in gratitude for the scientists who had worked so hard to find this cure; we had escaped, we were protected, we would live.

It was reported today that it had taken 67 days to reach 100,000 cases of COVID-19 in the world - and only 4 days to go from 200,000 to 300,000 cases. Not all, of course, are deadly, and for sure not all have been counted. By tomorrow morning, March 25, we will have surpassed 400,000 cases*,  present in 175 out 195 countries. By April 1, I imagine we'll have racked up a million cases world wide.  And this President seems to think we should all get back to work in early April, because, you know, the economy sucks and business is flagging. Never mind that every advisor with a medical background or brains in their head has told him that relaxing our safeguards now would allow the virus to run wild and ransack the population. That in fact, our economy would suffer far more in the long run, taking even longer to recover.

All this President can think about is getting re-elected. The loss of civilian lives in this war against the virus is just collateral damage to him. If he pursues this plan of action, we will have an even longer and more protracted slow-down of the economy as communities sicken and collapse, as hospitals fail to keep up with the onslaught of the desperately sick.

 If he pursues this plan of action, I think it behooves the legislators in Washington to enact The 25th Amendment  and remove him from office for recklessly endangering the lives of the citizens of this country.  For willfully and recklessly endangering the lives of doctors and nurses fighting this pandemic when he refused to take this seriously when he was first informed about it in January. For  causing deaths of civilians by thoughtlessly promoting cures that don't work and dismissing practices that do in his woefully ignorant tweeting, his reckless, rambling press meetings full of misinformation and downright lies.

Personally, I wonder if he has lost his mind.

Meanwhile, we take our walks, we relish our meals, we crack bad jokes. Because we can. For now.

*UPDATE:  Global numbers for reported number of cases of COVID-19 surpassed 400,000 before midnight of March 24th. 
 

Disaptches from Sheltering in Place - Monday, March 23, 2020

Today was kind of a cranky day - thick moist clouds hovered low overhead, reinforcing a damp, cloistered mood. Comments that might have glanced off our thicker skins last week got under the surface today.  The sense that this will last longer than our longest vacation is beginning to sink into our skins; in fact, this whole exercise in physical and social restraint could last longer than some jobs I've had.

When things get thick, I go out an dig. A spade, a trowel, a fork, anything that will go into the skin of the earth and release its gold, its funk, its mysterious magic. I want to feel and smell the richness life still has to offer - thin white mycellium, thick dark roots, worms transforming pallid land-fill clay to dark, airy loam.

And today, to honor the spring that is marching forward right under our noses, the first rose.

Dispatches from the Time of CoronaVirus - Sunday, March 22nd

We had planned to go visit the Morgan Horse Stables out at the Point Reyes National Seashore Visitor Center with our little horse-focused granddaughter. I figured it was a good excursion that would keep us entertained and provide some fresh air and exercise, while allowing for plenty of room around us, so no one would trample on another's personal social-distance space.

But so many people had thronged out to the coast on Saturday, so sunny, so bright, that authorities  shut the whole PRNS down. The little towns out there, Inverness and Bodega and Bolinas and Pt Reyes Station, felt invaded and over-run, as if it were summer. But a summer with a lot of cooties. A lot of dangerous cooties.

But who can blame anyone? Cooped up for a week in a house or an apartment, with pathways carved into the rugs by pacing, the coast is an enticing backyard for the entire Bay Area. Now the road out to Limantour is blocked. It feels like another gate has been slammed shut and the fences are closing in.  

Here are two articles that reflect our state of affairs. This is not an exhaustive review, just a snapshot in The Time of Coronavirus.

Best of Virus, Worst of Virus 

Larry Brilliant

March 21, 2020 - Dipatches from SIP - Saturday

It is spring, but it doesn't feel like spring; it feels the soft ground, about to give way, on the crest of the cliff just before the drop. It's been most of a week, everyone staying close to home. We are all on edge and either testy or terrified, in about equal waves. There is no end of gut-twisting news in the media about this invisible yet very tangible enemy that ravages bodies and spirits and businesses and stock markets. And there's all the bluster from the top, trying to overlay their absolute and abject failure to take this seriously from the beginning and thus magnifying the danger to all.

As David Brooks writes in the New York Times: Screw This Virus

Meanwhile, we hang tight. Our granddaughter is here to spend a few nights, while her parents recover from a week of trying to WFH with a four-year-old running about. Daycare, of course, is closed.  So this weekend, we get the pleasure of granddaughter time and they will get a much needed, though socially-distanced, walk along the coast.

So of course, we made Unicorn Cookies - from scratch. Now we are almost out of flour -- and so are all the stores around here. And the yeast is gone. Sheesh,  everybody's baking!


This afternoon the sun slanted in from the west, backlighting the just-leafed out mulberry tree in our back yard, which had been dropping catkins all week. Sitting on the couch in the living room, just catching our breath, my daughter and I could just see through the big sliding glass door, faint clouds of pollen poofing out from the tree-branches, minute yellowish bursts, like mini-fireworks or elfin cannons of pollen. They weren't being released by the force of the wind knocking the branches about, because there wasn't much wind, and the poofs didn't come all at once, but a burst here, a burst there.  Perhaps little capsules were finally ready and warm enough to burst and eject the pollen into the balmy air. Along the top of the fence behind the tree, a mockingbird strutted its stuff, fanning its wings and ducking and dancing. Moments I might have missed, if I weren't sequestered in the house, staying home.

March 20, 2020 Friday - Dipatches from SIP

First Day of Spring, the Equinox.
This may be spring, but it doesn't feel quite like it. The hills are green, yes, and the pear tree has put out its first little leaf and bud. Pears will be in our future. That we can predict.

Nor does it feel equal or stable or balanced. I have a knitting project that I've started at least three times, and ripped out the beginning because it never looks right, its lopsided, its too big, too small. I think this is more about the knitter than the knitting.

The lack of medical supplies and personal protective equipment for medical staff, is to my mind, absolutely criminal. The Federal Government should release whatever stockpiles they have to support the front lines in this battle against the virus.

Can't even tell you how many appeals for face masks I've seen on NextDoor or from personal friends who work in hospitals or offices. It's overwhelming. Anyone who has them leftover from the fires are sending them to the nearest hospitals.

And now here's the idea of DIY sewing masks for our medical workers. Well, it's something I can do. It reminds me of folks in previous wars making bandages for the front line.  I think I've found a pattern that looks at least a little bit effective.  I've got the cotton and a machine. So off I go. I'll post my results as soon as I get something decent.

March 19, 2020 - Thursday- Dispatches from SIP

Today, Governor Newsom orders the entire State of California to Shelter In Place. The Federal Government  as run by this President, has dropped the ball and now the States have to pick it up. I am glad Governor Newsom is being fierce about all this. And no, I don't blame government in general, because good, responsible government wouldn't have ignored the warnings, played fast and loose with the citizens lives and let this pandemic get away with this.

And so here we are, sitting in limbo, unable to imagine quite what the future will look like.

Jimmy Cliff said it well: 

Sitting here in limbo
Waiting for the dice to roll
Sitting here in limbo
Got some time to search my soul

 

Full lyrics here 

and YouTube

I can not watch or listen to the news and stay sane, so I try to focus on the small things in front of me. Putting some poppies in the ground, listening to the mockingbirds warble their hearts out, fitting in a walk around the marsh trail again. I'm sure soon enough these things will irritate and grind on me, but for now they suffice. And reggae hits the spot, the right blend of sweet music and Resistance in a big way. Try it.

Learning the Zoom Program  today and feeling hopeful that as I contemplate #GarageLife I can invite some friends along with me.   Stir it up, indeed!

March 18, 2020 - Dispatches from SIP

Today I would have been prepping for a trip to the foothills of the Sierras, to a retreat to work on my two writing projects.  Snow and a warm cabin; this was the generous offer from friends that I had to turn down.  Instead, I am sticking close to home and sheltering in place.

Took a walk late in the afternoon as we often do on the marsh trail along the levee near our house,  sun muted from heavy clouds, rain seemingly just around the corner. Little egrets fished along the edges, poking long bills into small ponds, shaking long toes to lure fish closer to them.  Where we might have seen five or six people at other times jogging or walking their dogs along the levee, today we saw twenty-five or so, all of us keeping our distance. The nice thing? We all say hello or how are you, even as we consciously step away from each other. Perhaps because of these avoidance steps, the greetings might be a way to mitigate what would be seen as rudeness under other circumstances.

From the back yards of the nearby neighborhood houses, come the yells and loud laughter of children, running around, blowing off steam, tossing balls. No school, no after-school activity. Suddenly this place feels more inhabited, more full of life - even if from a six-foot distance.

Because I do want to work on these book projects, I have set up a work space in the garage, where I feel set off even in my isolation. It's a bit rough, but I think it will serve its purpose.

These are unsettled times, and it's difficult to think of near future, the purported end of The Isolations. But we will get there, by hook or by crook, with the help and support of friends and family. 

Notes on the Shelter in Place - Tuesday, March 17, Day One

March 17, 2020

Tuesday, ostensibly St Patrick's Day, was our first day in Marin County to Shelter in Place due to COVID-19. At high noon, nary a mouse stirred up and down Fourth St in San Rafael. I went downtown SR to finish up some business at Copperfield's Bookstore but it was closed. And Riley Street Art Store also closed. Not sure why I thought they might be open - but it's difficult to imagine this reality. Some of the restaurants were open but very few people were in them. Plenty of parking on Fourth Street. One car drove up the street, a stark contrast to the usual bumper-to-bumper creep-along traffic most days. Another person walked down the sidewalk on the other side.

A  youngish man, street-living, sat on the sidewalk, braced against yellow stucco walls of the building, scruffy-headed, matted beard, rope holding his jacket closed, rope holding his backpack and belongings together. A stained cap hid his eyes, his face cupped in his hands. It seemed like the image of utmost loneliness to me. No home or hut, no community to bear witness to his existence, to see him. The streets were left to him, perhaps some of his friends, and the police.
 

ABCDarian!

Wait, what is that word?
ABCDarian -say it out loud and the clues fall into place; it's a piece structured by having the first letter of a line follow the sequence of the alphabet, an acrostic in alpha order, if you will. So, the first word in each line of a poem or in the sentence of a story begins with letters in alphabetic order: A, B,C, D, etc.  See the rich, trope-filled poem below by Cathy Park Hong.

We had fun with this in Jumpstart a few meetings ago. (Probably only two weeks, but feels like half-a-lifetime since then). It does take some fussing with, perfect for filling up some time.  You can use short lines in a poem -- or use longer sentences in a prose piece, but either way, part of the fun of the writing and the reading of it is seeing how the alphabet dictates the path.  Give a whirl! And feel free to post your result in the comments. 


ABCDarian Western by Cathy Park Hong

Paris Review, Issue no. 191 (Winter 2009) - 

Ate stew, shot a man,

Bandy body spraddled, so full of lead 

Cabron can’t even walk uphill.

Derringer spit out of bullets

Empty as a gutted steer

Found a soiled dove

Got me some cash roll for a night.

Hacienda next dawn,

Indian scalps round my neck.

Jacal shack full of hunched men

Kicked that hut down,

Limped them with shots, 

Morning to scalp them, 

Noontime, sang. 

Offal yarned in my satchel saddle 

Prairie oyster in the other,

Quit the flats, into town

Raised on prunes and proverbs

Scorched a church,

Threw down a priest hiding

Under mesquite shrub and blatting woolies,

Vaquero packs me with iron,

Wastes me easy as if
 
X marked my vest plain as

Yucca country.

Zanjero digs a ditch.

We Will Remember in November

Death Panels, Brought to You By Republicans This Time.

I write this piece not to be divisive or cruel but to counter the current narrative that this Republican Administration is handling this pandemic so expertly. They are not.  By their own denial of science and fact, by their own desire to cut government to bare bones, they have created this mess.  They have an the utter lack of regard for the health of the citizens of this country.  The role of government is to protect citizens who pay taxes for social and health protections and who elect legislators to create laws and programs to implement these protections.  Now we're seeing how the Republican plans are playing out, with the lack of supplies, lack of services, lack of knowledge, lack of care. Trumps's famous words are "I'm not responsible!" Oh, but I beg to differ.  He's the head of the government. The buck stops with him.And his Repubican cronies are not helping him one little bit.

Remember back in the last decade, when Republicans accused ObamaCare of creating Death Panels, where doctors would be forced to decide who got treatment and therefore lived and who would receive no treatment and thus died? That, of course, never happened and never would have happened. ObamaCare gave older people a better crack at a healthier life.

But hey, look at what could so easily happen now. Due to the incompetence and ignorance of this Republican President and his Republican Administration (Toady Pence comes to mind), head doctors in hard-hit hospitals may well be to forced to make those who-lives, who-dies decisions after all.

This Trump White House severely cut funds to the CDC and dismissed the task force created specifically to respond to epidemics and pandemics, a task force set up by Obama  in 2010 after the H1N1 Epidemic. As a result of these Republican cuts, we are currently unable to respond to this pandemic in a timely and effective manner.  No wonder there was panic-buying; it's the only thing we were allowed to do. And we certainly do know how to do it, don't we?

Without adequate funding of our public health system from the CDC on down, without support for trained doctors and scientists, we can't protect our most vulnerable citizens - or any of our citizens. We didn't develop reliable tests quickly enough because we didn't have the personnel on deck to do it. We didn't test quick enough because the Rump Administration preferred to pretend the epidemic didn't exist. Don't get me started on the lack of supplies for doctors and nurses on the front lines, which to my mind is criminal.

Now the virus is out in the wild and what testing we can finally do might not be enough to slow its progress. If we can't flatten the curve of the growth of this virus with social distancing, too many people will get ill at once and our hospitals will be overwhelmed with sick and dying patients. Then doctors will be forced to make life and death decisions,  as they are already forced to do in Italy. And by all accounts, we are about 10 days behind Italy.

So, Republicans, you gifted us those Death Panels after all. You created this mess by your short-sighted refusal to adequately fund public health services that benefit everyone in the country, regardless of class or status or political party or persuasion.
Now you own the Death Panels - and the mess.
And we will remember this in November.

Holding Breath

These past few days, it feels like we've been holding our breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The center is directionless and will not hold; the confusion is mighty and amplifies our unease. Solid, moral leadership from the top about COVID-19 would have given us a base to work from, even if dire. Instead, we have this free-fall, this unidentified free-wheeling panic, with little way to determine what's true or exactly what to do.

We are waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Perhaps we are watching it tip over in slow-motion and tumble downward.

Meanwhile, we're washing hands, wiping counters down, offering elbow bumps and vulcan salutes. The impulse to touch upon greeting is so innate, it feels rude not to offer a hand or a hug. But it's the best way to break the bridges the virus uses for its invasion from one host to the other.

Keeping my hands from my face is a monumental task and requires as much concentration as mindfulness meditation. But the upshot is that for the first time in decades, I have fingernails.  Real tools! I can flick open tops of tubes; I can cut into the deep skin of oranges, inhaling the  sweet spray. 

We muster on, because, really, what else can we do? We hang tough, we keep super-clean, we maintain our distances, we watch the shoe falling in slow motion.

By the way, the oranges are delicious. And the Vitamin C is good for you.

Five Words: Persnickety Britches

This is a fun way to slip out from under the editor's watchful eye.  Use a method to select random words: if you are writing solo, you could find six words on page 6 of the sixth book in your stack, for instance. In our groups, everyone contributes a favorite or compelling word.  The challenge in each case is to use all of the welected words in a piece of any kind - a poem, a mini-story, something stirred up from memory.  Here's something I wrote that arose out of the five words from last Tuesday's Jumpstart in Petaluma class.

The words : britches, persnickty, authentic, tantalizing, meditative. 

The britches were tantalizing, no doubt about that, but waaaaaay off limits. Wearing them too early would imply that I was too big for them. As the littlest tyke in a long slew of siblings, I already knew that would not be a good thing.

But I yearned for them: hand-me-downs from my next oldest brother, they now hung in the closet we had once shared, left behind as he had been hurried into the waiting truck, tailpipe steaming in the pearly dawn, his clothes gathered in a rush by my oldest sister and heaped into the battered tan and brown tweed suitcase. She was not at all persnickety about what was chosen, how they were rolled, folded, squeezed. I watched, hunched on my lower bunk, quilt bunched around me. The suitcase had the authenticity of distance and the authority of loss - it gathered him up and took him away to his father's house for transgressions I couldn't yet fathom. Even now, decades later, sitting in meditation and recollection, I only feel the hole, the gap of space that he had once inhabited and which I then proceeded to fill, transgressions and all.

Jumpstart Writing Workshops ~ March

Join us for our writing fun and frolic!  Workshops meet this week at Copperfield's in Petaluma and in San Rafael -- see the deets below. 

In Jumpstart Writing, we write to several prompts to get the juices flowing and words going. This free-writing process jumps right over that cranky editor in your brain and lets you get straight down to putting words on the page. All you need is a pen or pencil and some paper. The best part? It's fun.  See this post on my blog to learn more about this process -- and check out some of the other posts for examples of what we do.

You can also investigate Marlene Cullen's blog, The Write Spot for tons of prompts, discussions of the free-writing process and links to writing resources.

Here are the logistical details -- feel free to share this email with friends who might be interested in jump-starting their writing, too.
Jumpstart Petaluma  - Copperfield's, 140 Kentucky Street, Petaluma

Monday evening, 6:30 - 8:30 pm ~ Susan Bono leads the way in March - March 2, 9, 16, 24.

Tuesday morning, 10 - noon ~ with Lakin Khan ~ March 3, 10, 17, 25, 31 

Jumpstart San Rafael - Copperfield's, 850 Fourth St, San Rafael

Wednesdays, 4:30 - 6:30 p.m.    March 11, 18, 25 with Lakin Khan

onward and upward, writing all the while,

Lakin Willard Khan. 

lakhan@sonic.net 

Rhymes With Bacon

Useful links:
 Copperfields Events Calendar

The Write Spot

 Copperfield's San Rafael 

 https://www.copperfields

Rhymes With Bacon  

JumpStart March - let's leap, let's go!

So, will March come in like a lion -- or a lamb?  This past week, I thought it would arrive tender like lamb, but boy howdy, sure did get blustery today!  Could it be roaring on March 1st?

On Weds, March 4th, I will be out of town at the AWP Conference in San Antonio, TX,  so no Jumpstart  Workshop in San Rafael that day. Alhough I will meet the Petaluma group that Tuesday morning, March 3rd - and then I'll go  vote! All the calendar and location deets are below -- or check Copperfield's  Calendar of Events here.

In Jumpstart Writing, we write to several prompts, get the juices flowing, and words going. This free-writing process jumps right over that cranky editor in your brain and lets you get right down to putting words on the page. All you need is a pen or pencil and some paper. The best part? It's fun.  See this post on my blog to learn more about this process -- and check out some of the other posts for examples of what we do.

You can also investigate Marlene Cullen's blog, The Write Spot for tons of prompts, discussions of the free-writing process and links to writing resources.

Here are the logistical details -- feel free to share this email with friends who might be interested in jump-starting their writing, too.
Jumpstart Petaluma  - Copperfield's, 140 Kentucky Street, Petaluma

Monday evening, 6:30 - 8:30 pm ~ Susan Bono leads the way in March - March 2, 9, 16, 24.

Tuesday morning, 10 - noon ~ with Lakin Khan ~ March 3, 10, 17, 25, 31 

Jumpstart San Rafael - Copperfield's, 850 Fourth St, San Rafael

Wednesdays, 4:30 - 6:30 p.m.   No meeting March 4th.  We'll continue with March 11, 18, 25 with Lakin Khan

onward and upward, writing all the while,

Lakin Willard Khan. 

lakhan@sonic.net 

Rhymes With Bacon

Useful links:
 Copperfields Events Calendar

The Write Spot

 Copperfield's San Rafael 

 https://www.copperfields

Rhymes With Bacon  

Jump Starting Writing - February!

Hello, Jumpstart Writers ... our final meeting of February in San Rafael is coming up this Wednesday, March 26th.  Looking forward to seeing folks and hearing about their writing projects!

A quick note about March: I will be out of town at AWP in San Antonio, TX beginning Weds, March 4th  ... so no Jumpstart  Workshop in San Rafael that day. (Though I will meet the Petaluma group that Tuesday morning, March 3rd -- but more about that next week!)

So I'll see folks in San Rafael on Weds, Feb 26th and Marlene Cullen will facilitate  Monday evening and Tuesday morning in Petaluma. See all the calendar and location deets below -- or check Copperfield's  Calendar of Events here.  And thanks to Marlene Cullen  for  her shout out on her blog The Write Spot -- and hello! to the folks visiting from there. 

In Jumpstart Writing, we write to several prompts, get the juices flowing, and words going. This free-writing process jumps right over that cranky editor in your brain and lets you get right down to putting words on paper. The best part? It's fun!

Green --peace?

Here's a JumpStart suggestion to try at home: go for a Color Walk! Think of a color (red, yellow, purple, grey) then walk for 15 minutes anywhere and note all the instances and objects you spot of that color. Then write for 15 minutes about the experience, follow your thoughts into fantasy or memory, develop into a poem or a paragraph. Or let it lie fallow until you need it again. Try it in different environments - marshland, hill hikes, around a suburban neighborhood, on city sidewalks or park. Note the new grass, a dog's green collar, peas in a bowl waiting to be steamed.  Feel free to post your own response in comments below.

Curious about just what Jumpstart Writing entails? See my this post on my blog to learn more about this process -- and maybe see this response to a prompt in class on using repetitions.

You can also investigate Marlene Cullen's blog, The Write Spot for more freewriting prompts.

Here are the details -- feel free to share this email with friends who might be interested.
Jumpstart Petaluma  - Copperfield's, 140 Kentucky Street, Petaluma

Monday evening, 6:30 - 8:30 pm ~ Marlene Cullen leads the way ~ Feb 24

Tuesday evening, 10 - noon ~ with Marlene Cullen ~ Feb 25

Jumpstart San Rafael - Copperfield's, 850 Fourth St, San Rafael

Wednesdays, 4:30 - 6:30 p.m.   Feb  26 with Lakin Khan

Here's a link to  Copperfields Events Calendar

onward and upward, writing all the while,

Lakin Willard Khan. 

lakhan@sonic.net 

Rhymes With Bacon\

Useful links:

The Write Spot https://www.thewritespot.us/jumpstart.php

 Copperfield's San Rafael 

 https://www.copperfields

Rhymes With Bacon   https://lakinkhan.blogspot.com/

It so happens...

We were practicing repetitions last fall, playing around with anaphora, the repetition of the same words at the start of lines, sentences or paragraphs and with epiphora, repetition at the end of lines, sentences or paragraphs.   I love how Andrienne Su uses anaphora in her poem, the repeating lines building up and resonating with each other, both disappearing and standing out.

Adrienne Su "An Hour Later, You Are Hungry Again" 
from The New Yorker, Nov 18, 2019, which uses "For the" as the repeated words at the start of each line. Do check it out!

And from one of our prompts to use a repeating phrase with each sentence, here's my attempt at using anaphora in a small story, "It So Happens".

It so happens that worms spend their life making compost out of garbage.
It so happens that my father is a fisherman.
It so happens that bait is often wriggly red wet worms.
It so happens that I need to to dispose of a body -- never mind whose.
It so happens that there is a pit nearby.

It so happens that my father is out of town.
It so happens that he came home today,
It so happens that he is upset to learn so many worms have disappeared.
It so happens that the worms miss my father.
It so happens that they also come home,  a long wriggly train of wet, well-fed, red worms.

It so happens that well-fed, sassy worms make my dad question things.
It so happens that it made him question me.
It so happens that I am not a good lier.
It so happens I spilled the beans and my sister's hamster's little body was exhumed - or at least most of what was left of it.

It so happens that it takes a long time for worms to dispose of bodies, even very little bodies.

February - and the sneezing is easy! I mean, the pollen is already rampant and on the loose. Acacias, I'm looking at you! Be that as it may, we'll hunker down and write, the Jumpstart Way. So come on by-- see all the where and when deets below.

In Jumpstart Writing, we write to several prompts to get the juices flowing and words going. This free-writing process jumps right over that cranky editor in your brain and lets you get right down to putting words on paper. The best part? It's fun!

Curious about just what Jumpstart Writing entails? See my this post on my blog to learn more about this process  You can also investigate Marlene Cullen's blog, The Write Spot.

Here are the logistical details -- feel free to share.
Jumpstart Petaluma  - Copperfield's, 140 Kentucky Street, Petaluma

Monday evening, 6:30 - 8:30 pm ~ Marlene Cullen leads the way ~ Feb 3, 10, 17, 24

Tuesday evening, 10 - noon ~ with Marlene Cullen ~ Feb 4, 11, 18, 25

Jumpstart San Rafael - Copperfield's, 850 Fourth St, San Rafael

Wednesdays, 4:30 - 6:30 p.m.   Feb 5, 12, 19, 26 .with Lakin Khan

Here's a link to  Copperfields Events Calendar

onward and upward, writing all the while,

Lakin Willard Khan.

A hike in five senses.

In Jumpstart Writing, we've been talking about using our five senses (sight, sound, smell, taste, touch) in our writing to make scenes and stories more vivid.  Here's a little exercise I did, trying to use all five senses. Maybe next time, I'll try for six senses?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A surprisingly mild day today, a throw-forward into spring.  After the strong and turbulent winds yesterday, which, according to the Chronicle, blew out windows in skyscrapers in SF and hit 90 mph somewhere in Marin, the day arrived quiet and meek and full of sun. We are slowly getting acclimated to San Rafael and Marin County, after our move down from Petaluma last August. Mostly  we do this mby getting out on hikes around and about, sometimes in new territory, sometime in familiar territory.

Today, we revisited the Pt Reyes Visitors Center on Bear Valley Road out in West Marin, hiking around the Morgan Horse farm, down around the creek  and out to Kule Loklo, the representational reconstruction of a Miwok Village. Maybe 3 miles altogether, under blue skies and a few chilly breezes.

We walked up to the Morgan Horse farm behind the Visitors Center, reading the exhibit placards and then along the fences, trying to entice the four horses to come over and say hi for neck scratches, but they were far too busy cropping the short, green grass. Well, one did suspecting we might have grass, I think. The neck was dusty, solid; the fur soft, but also wiry, resistant.

We moved on, air redolent with eucalyptus, which made me feel like I was recovering from a cold. The trail dipped down along the cool creek; we could hear its burbling and babbling way before we got to the wooden bridge, where the trail crossed over and went on up the hill to Sky Camp. That's a hike we'll take next time. For now, we want to get to know the lay of the land and develop our legs, grow our stamina. Plus, we didn't bring any sustenance aside from the tart tangerines we devoured down there at the bridge. We were deep down the canyon, cool and a bit dim, but the bubbly brook reflected bright blue sky. In the underbrush of the medicinally-fragrant bay trees, a wren-like bird rattled and bounced around. Larger than a Bewick's; not quite as skittish. Maybe a spotted towhee? Hmm, maybe not.

As we came back up the trail, the call of a red tail hawk echoed across the valley beyond the meadow; acorn woodpeckers cackled through the trees near the creek, a spotted towhee, (definitely). jumped through the limbs of a downed bay tree; tall scraggly firs were punched with long descending rows of very round holes, the work of acorn woodpeckers, creating their storage graineries for acorns.

We wandered along behind a row of tall thick shaggy eucalyptus trees, taking the marked turn to investigate the meadow with the Kule Loklo village. The structures were perfectly designed, part of the round house dug into the ground, drawing up the cool damp from the ground that will very soon be quite necessary. Some of the round house was roofed and walled with redwood bark; an open courtyard was walled by ring of rows of large rocks, creating a deep well with a wide floor, where 20 or 30 people could mill about, conducting discussions and activities, protected from the sun, but with a most fabulous view of the Bolinas Ridge across Olema Valley. It felt like it would be a good place to stay in the hot days. I plan to come back, for sure, for a pleasant walk amid the trees and views. I might bring a book or a sketchpad,  a picnic and water. I might  plan to stay a while.

Jumpstart San Rafael in February

We had a great first month of the year writing - and now we're already on to February!

I'll be managing the Jumpstart San Rafael group on Wednesdays and Marlene Cullen will be back to facilitate on Monday evenings and Tuesday mornings for February in Petaluma. See all the calendar and location deets below.

In Jumpstart Writing, we write to several prompts to get the juices flowing and words going. This free-writing process jumps right over that cranky editor in your brain and lets you get right down to putting words on paper. The best part? It's fun!

Curious about just what Jumpstart Writing entails? See my this post on my blog to learn more about this process  You can also investigate Marlene Cullen's blog, The Write Spot.

Here are the logistical details -- feel free to share.
Jumpstart Petaluma  - Copperfield's, 140 Kentucky Street, Petaluma

Monday evening, 6:30 - 8:30 pm ~ Marlene Cullen leads the way ~ Feb 3, 10, 17, 24

Tuesday evening, 10 - noon ~ with Marlene Cullen ~ Feb 4, 11, 18, 25

Jumpstart San Rafael - Copperfield's, 850 Fourth St, San Rafael

Wednesdays, 4:30 - 6:30 p.m.   Feb 5, 12, 19, 26 .with Lakin Khan

Here's a link to  Copperfields Events Calendar

onward and upward, writing all the while,

Lakin Willard Khan. 

lakhan@sonic.net 

Rhymes With Bacon

Other useful links:

The Write Spot https://www.thewritespot.us/jumpstart.php

 Copperfield's San Rafael 

 https://www.copperfields

Rhymes With Bacon   https://lakinkhan.blogspot.com/

Jumpstart Writing - come on down!

Hey,  come by Copperfield's for some fun writing! Jumpstart Writing workshops will be held in Petaluma and San Rafael to get your writing hopping. See below for days and times. We'll write to several prompts, get the juices flowing, and words going. This free-writing process jumps right over that cranky editor in your brain and lets you get right down to putting words on paper. No only that, it's fun!

The past few weeks, we've focused on the sense of sight, spending some time with ekphrastic writing (see previous post). We also wrote to the prompt Running Away. Kathy Guthomrsen, a writer in Petaluma,  posted her response "Running Away." on her blog KathG.Space, where you can also find  some of her many stories that include animals as main characters. Enjoy!

Jumpstart Petaluma  - Copperfield's, 140 Kentucky Street, Petaluma
~Monday evening, 6:30 - 8:30 pm ~ with Susan Bono ~  Jan 6 13, 20, 27
~Tuesday morning, 10 am  - noon ~ with Lakin Khan ~  Jan 7, 14, 21, 28

Jumpstart San Rafael - Copperfield's, 850 Fourth St, San Rafael
~ Wednesdays,  Jan 8,15, 22, 29 ~ 4:30 - 6:30 p.m. with Lakin Khan
See:  Copperfields Events Calendar

Curious about Jumpstart Writing?
See my previous post to learn more about the process -- or investigate Marlene Cullen's blog,  The Write Spot where she writes about this inspiring writing process, built around Natalie Goldberg's book Writing Down the Bones.

Onward, forward, writing-ward!

Jumpstart Workshop - ekphrastic !

In our recent Jumpstart workshops, we've been doing some ekphrastic writing, which is descriptive writing about or a  response to visual art. We've been having fun looking at paintings and photos, imaging stories and practicing our visual descriptions.

Here's my response to a postcard of Claude Monet's painting "Wheat Stacks at Dawn."

Frost is the frosting on these giant cupcakes of hay waiting in the pale pearly peachlight of dawn for the Giant of Alsace to stomp down the hill for his morning meal. At least so far, he's been happy with hay. What might happen if he decides to go all keto on us and demand ostrich-eggs over easy and a side of humans to start his day?   ~ Lakin

Another example is Anne Sexton's poem "Starry Night" one of many ekphrastic responses to the painting of the same name by Vincent Van Gogh. And  I'm sure we all remember Don McLean 's  song, "Starry Starry Night" --- another example of an artist in one medium responding to an artist from another.

Hope you find a chance to write ekphrastically, too, locating an image that sparks your imagination or elicits a response. Or take a chance with random postcards or images in a magazine or museum brochure. Or even better, treat yourself to a trip to an art museum and spend some time writing there. What could be better? 

Jumpstart Writing - a place to write with friends!

Jumpstart Writing continues  -

So come by Copperfield's in Petaluma on Monday evening  or  Tuesday morning and in San Rafael on Wednesday late afternoon to get your writing pump primed for the new year. We'll write to several prompts, get the juices flowing, and words going. This free-writing process jumps right over that cranky editor in your brain and lets you get right down to putting words on paper. It's fun!

Jumpstart Petaluma  - Copperfield's, 140 Kentucky Street, Petaluma
~Monday evening, 6:30 - 8:30 pm ~ with Susan Bono ~  Jan 6 13, 20, 27
~Tuesday morning, 10 am  - noon ~ with Lakin Khan ~  Jan 7, 14, 21, 28

Jumpstart San Rafael - Copperfield's, 850 Fourth St, San Rafael
~ Wednesdays,  Jan 8,15, 22, 294:30 - 6:30 p.m. with Lakin Khan
See:  Copperfields Events Calendar

Curious about Jumpstart Writing?
See my previous post to learn more about the process -- or investigate Marlene Cullen's blog,  The Write Spot where she writes about this inspiring writing process, built around Natalie Goldberg's book Writing Down the Bones.

Onward, forward, writing-ward!

New Year, New Flavors.

Today, in Jumpstart Writing at the Copperfield's in Petaluma, I asked folks to write about something "new." This, with a nod to Shel Silverstein,  is my attempt.

New? Yep! Brand new flavors today.
Porcupine Crunch, Avocado Slime.
Ice cream flavors bound to dismay.
Sea Slug Salty, Rusty Jail Time.

Gonna have a new start, new flavors for you.
Ten Year Old Bubblegum; Pine Tar Chew.
Turquoise Gravel, Elephant Poo.
That's the way this year becomes new.


and so on.....
Cheers!
Lakin
p.s. yeah, might have to address the off-kilter rhyme scheme during revision...

Jumping Up for Jumpstart in 2020

Jumpstart Writing resumes this coming week  -- come by Copperfield's in Petaluma on Monday evening  or  Tuesday morning and in San Rafael on Wednesday  to get your writing pump primed for the new year. We'll write to several prompts, get the juices flowing, and words going. This free-writing process jumps right over that cranky editor in your brain and lets you get right down to putting words on paper. It's fun!

Jumpstart Petaluma  - Copperfield's, 140 Kentucky Street, Petaluma
~Monday evening, 6:30 - 8:30 pm ~ with Susan Bono ~  Jan 6, 13, 20, 27
~Tuesday morning, 10 am  - noon ~ with Lakin Khan ~  Jan 7, 14, 21, 28

Jumpstart San Rafael - Copperfield's, 850 Fourth St, San Rafael
~ Wednesdays,  Jan 8,15, 22, 294:30 - 6:30 p.m. with Lakin Khan
See:  Copperfields Events Calendar

Curious about Jumpstart Writing?
See my previous post to learn more about the process -- or investigate Marlene Cullen's blog,  The Write Spot where she writes about this inspiring writing process, built around Natalie Goldberg's book Writing Down the Bones.

Onward, forward, writing-ward!

New Year's Day, with Birds

Today, January 1st, 2020,  we took the long walk way out  on the marsh. It was a mixed-reaction kind of day - weak sun to start, almost warm, then cloudy-covers snuck in over Mt Tamalpais and congealed the sky. A damp wind cut across the limp waters,  and nudged into the ends of our sleeves, pushed in between zippers. It lifted the brimmed hat off my head, kilting it into the sedgy muddy grasses.  Several times. The air was briny and brittle. It felt like a New Years Day - cold, yet fecund, with the sense of frozen possibilities ahead, just waiting to thaw out.

We recognized a pair of Northern Harriers,  old friends from previous walks, who swoop low across the watery grasses, quartering the wide, levy-bounded fields. At the far corner of our walk, where the trail loops around and we head back toward the start, a swath of white dots:  almost twenty snowy egrets congregating, poking and pecking and high-stepping through what can only be considered half water, half mud. Although we do see a lot of egrets around here, we tend to see them one by one, as solitary stalkers and so this grouping seems unusual and striking. And yet - we are past the darkest, longest night. It has to be that time: birds starting to pair up in preparation for nesting season. This looked like was one of those group-dates youngsters are fond off, where they can peer at each other, evaluate all the options, without the burden of a one-to-one date.

Along the way, we saw three willets walking through the weeds along the bank, their drab stripey-sides out, not their stunning black and white undergarments. The last time we were out here, we had seen a flock of these pale-gray undistinguished-looking water birds that startle, dazzle, confuse with a dramatic but hidden black-and-white wing tip pattern, revealed in flight or when they they lift their wings. I so wanted to see that transformation, but refrained from tossing a stick in the water just to see them fly up.

Finches and phoebes chipped and cheeped and whistled, sparrows darted in and out of blackberry thickets and coyote mint.  The wind kept darting about too. Our talk was of the sky and the brackish water and the way Mt Tam stood revealed and covered as clouds stumbled over her sloping flanks. We mulled over what this upcoming year might be like; the way forward feels both both clear-cut and occluded at the same time.  The future seems veiled and yet right in front of our eyes; what looks drab and unassuming at first, could hide dramatic black-and-white consequences in flight. 

 
The path back to the car runs along the tide-determined creek.  A Western grebe, all royalty and sleek diving, caught our attention - we were  transfixed by the small red eye, the inherent regal grace. Further on, a pair of hooded mergansers mesmerized us -- a golden feathery mohawk crowned the drabber bronze-hued duck, while her mate stunned us with geometric black and white zig-zag patterns at the each end of a chestnut-brown body, all reflected in the water in a kind of op-art extravaganza. We shared our binoculars with two moms and kids, all of us amazed. I mean, really, Lady Gaga would be proud of the feathery costume-drama.

There is great anxiety in not knowing exactly how the next year will play out, what the next five years will be like. In that way, these years feel much like the end of the 60s, when the turmoil over the Viet Nam War, the fight-marches for Civil Rights, the riots each summer the sense of unrest and uneasiness. Things felt like they hung in the balance and yet no one could predict how it was going to play out.  We couldn't anticipate anything then and we can't really now. We have to keeping moving on, fighting the good fight, flying up in the face of injustice when things are wrong.

Meanwhile, we move forward on our own small stages. We buy houses, we go to school, we retire, we continue working; we create fabulous food, we share with friends and family, we raise kids, we engage in the discussions that illuminate and empathize. Because no matter what is happening on the big stage, these busy, spinning little stages with their music and food and funny-bird dances carry us into the future, whatever it might look like.

Western Grebe
Willets

What is Jumpstart Writing?

Jumpstart Writing is a workshop designed to get your fingers moving and pen writing past that Old Doubting Critic and Planner lodged in your fore-brain, simply getting in the way. We just jump straight into writing, finding our way into new material, new stories, new poems. It is similar to freewriting, in that we write without stopping, following impulse and the random generator of an unleashed mind, no crossing out, no editing.  We use creative prompts, culled from a wide variety of sources, to get us going and keep writing onward. 

Prompts can be the first line of a poem, a random object, or the evocative smells of spices. We take exercises from Improv, writing books; we create scenarios with random connections or words.  Here are three suggestions that I have used this past month. Try one of them and see what you come up with. Just like free-writing, set a timer for 10 minutes,  20 minutes --- and GO!  Write fiction, write poetry, follow memories - or combine them for a multi-genre piece.

• The dog tipped over a wastebasket - what spills out? Set the scene: what kind of dog, whose is it? How did it get into the trash? what kind of trash?  Describe the spilled contents; what is revealed by what someone throws out?
• What is your (or your character's) favorite holiday song - and why? Describe the sounds, the emotions, the memories.
• Find a weird random object in the Junk Drawer and describe how it feels to the touch. Include it in a story  - or write about the memory it evokes? Could it become a metaphor in a poem? 

Remember, the results are a first, rough-draft response, similar to quick sketching in a drawing class. Not every response is going to be inspiring - but many of them are surprising, revealing material you didn't even know you were going to write about. And many of these responses can then be developed over time and a few more drafts into something more polished and crafted. But only if you want to!

Here's to finding some time to sit down and write --feel free to  use these prompts to get your fingers moving, your words flowing.

Write on,
Lakin