#SOL24-20 Create

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

It is morning and I am seated by the window, writing into the day. I remember small moments of yesterday, follow a random thought into something new, and toy with poetry. He is seated at the piano, nearby, in the front room, creating soft melodies. He delves into songs he once knew well, finding these in weathered music books, concentrates on matching his hand placement to the notes, and begins practicing. 

I love to write while he plays piano. There is something so soothing about the melodies he chooses, which are never intrusive to my thoughts, and simply alongside, freeing me. 

I took over this chair by the window when I retired from teaching in June 2020, in the midst of the pandemic. Writing, writing, writing. Puzzling over poetry prompts, remembering something from childhood and trying to tease it out, trying to write a story from start to finish. Playing with words. I am convinced that writing has saved me from the most anxious parts of myself. I am reminded of the indigenous parable of ‘the wolf you feed’  where there is a battle of good and evil within oneself. (I like this synopsis by the artist Aida Muluneh.) For me, the battle is between being calm, present, and clear-thinking, versus anxious, worried, and terrified about the world. My morning writing sets me up for a better day, one less ridden with anxiety. 

Tony, on the other hand, wakes up “doing.” He wakes up early, and gets going. He is always thinking about what needs fixing, what food we need to fetch at the grocery, who will be dropping by, and where we need to be at what time. First thing in the morning, he heads outside, to tinker in the garage or the yard. He might be up on a ladder, clearing the gutters of leaves and debris before the next storm, or digging up weeds along the front walk. He is a busy guy, and he keeps this house functioning, I am certain of it. I am so grateful for him. He finds what needs doing and he goes after it. 

He and I both noticed, with the exception of sitting and toying with the keys alongside our granddaughters, he was never playing the piano. 

He is also frustrated and anxious about this world and the direction it seems to be heading. We live in the Washington, D.C. suburbs, and we really have to work to NOT be immersed in all the ugly all the time. I think one big part of Tony’s getting caught up in small tasks is because he is stewing about the latest horrible news or worrying about a family member. Our efforts to make the world a better place seem so small and fruitless, and the problems so vast and daunting. 

He loves to play the piano, and he was putting it last on his list. 

So we set this fun new year’s intention: let’s both succumb to morning creative practice. A new routine was initiated: I write and he plays piano, and we strive for at least twenty minutes a morning, together but separate. On days when we are at home and we don’t have to babysit or rush out to an appointment, let’s put ‘play’ first, ahead of reading those headlines, ahead of all our to-do’s and worries. Some three months into the new year, our resolve to sit and play in our own fun creative way, is still going strong. We are often engaged in our pastimes for longer than the planned twenty minutes.

There seems to still be plenty of time to get to all our tasks.

It is amazing to me, to have time to play like this; I know it is a very precious gift of retirement. To spend time in such softness never felt possible during our careers, when morning meant the early morning alarm going off, rushing to get ready, to get the children ready, to get out, go, go, go. If I could turn back time, I’d do it differently, and make creative play a priority. Taking time to create is good for the mind, soul, and heart. 

Writing has become a daily prayer for me – how I seek solace, how I lament, how I amend my ways, and how I find hope. I think Tony’s piano playing is a similar release.

—

Keeping on this theme, I wrote a poem, thanks to inspiration by Shelley Martin-Young on today’s OpenWrite poetry at Ethical ELA

Release

with each year of living
comes pain of witnessing

the young husband 
who disappears 
declaring the marriage over

the teenager
found on the floor in the basement 
drowning in addiction and depression

the mom 
who starves herself as she
descends into suicidal darkness

the father 
who admits 
his life has been one big lie

the legacy of straw households 
wobbly built on secrets 
and judgment 
and hurt

days of helplessness
trying to breathe
needing hope

put pen to paper and let 
myself spiral 
just for a moment
let go

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