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LATE-BREAKING NEWS: Lifting the Veil, Artists in Support of The Tahirih Justice Center

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The Tahirih Justice Center stands alone as the only national, multi-city organization providing a broad range of direct legal services, policy advocacy, and training and education to protect immigrant women and girls fleeing violence. Come out and support some of New York’s most powerful artists as they perform to raise money for a worth cause. $10 suggested donation all going to the center. Thanks to Terri Muuss for sharing this with us. Lifting the Veil Facebook Page is HERE.

August 7 at 4 p.m. – 8 p.m. EDT at BrickHouse Bewery & Restaurant 67 W. Main Street, Patchogue, New York 11772.  

*****

a man, a woman, a stick

(1921)

the stick stood in the corner of the kitchen
a constant threat; stoking, as it was meant to,
chronic intimidation

he had a man’s right to deliver his blows
to vent his anger and his self-contempt
to cause suffering for the insufferable

someone had to make it up to him,
his loss-of-face to race, creed and poverty

for her part, eve’s daughter was ripe,
shamed by her intrinsic sinfulness,
worn by her constant pregnancies

her femininity: tired and task-bound,
guilt flowing freely, as all-consuming as lava

[relief, only in death]

and the seventh child was born to die
and the man was demanding his bread

she wrapped the girl in swaddling cloth,
placed her gently by the stove, and
while the newborn made busy with dying,
the woman prepared him his meal

© 2015, Jamie Dedes

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CELEBRATING AMERICAN SHE-POETS (#22): Jane Hirshfield, a human poet

Jane Hirshfeld (b. 1953), poet, essayist, translator
Jane Hirshfield (b. 1953), poet, essayist, translator

I always feel a slight dismay if I’m called a “Zen” poet. I am not. I am a human poet, that’s all.” Poet Jane Hirshfield on the Mystery of Existence, Spirituality & Health Magazine, Mar./Apr. 2013

When I think of Jane Hirshfield, I think first of her kindness to my friend, Bay Area poet, Ann Emerson (poet #9 in this series), who died a few years back and who received compassionate and generous guidance from Jane at a conference some years ago. It meant a lot to Ann and was a high-point in her six-year journey through cancer with poetry. Once having read Jane Hirshfield’s work, you can’t conceive of her as being anything but kind. The empathy expressed in her poetry is vast.

I admit to being one of those who also thinks of her as a Buddhist poet. Her poetry is Zen-like in its attentiveness, its inward-looking meditative quality, a quality of the ineffable given expression. Jane Hirshfield is a Zen practitioner, lived for several years at Tassajara and is ordained in Soto Zen.

Immersion in the life of the world, a willingness to be inhabited by and to speak for others, including those beyond the realm of the human, these are the practices not just of the bodhisattva but of the writer.” Jane Hirshfield in Nine Gates: Entering the Mind of Poetry

Another New York girl who eventually migrated to the San Francisco Bay Area, Jane Hirshfield was famously graduated from Princeton University’s first class to include women. She is the author of eight collections including The Lives of the Heart (Harper Collins, 1997), which won the Bay Area Book Reviewers Award and Given Sugar, Given Salt: Poems.

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TREE

It is foolish
to let a young redwood
grow next to a house.

Even in this
one lifetime,
you will have to choose.

That great calm being,
this clutter of soup pots and books —

Already the first branch-tips brush at the window.
Softly, calmly, immensity taps at your life.

– ©Jane Hirshfield (from Given Sugar, Given Salt, Poems)

Originality requires the aptitude for exile.” The Question of Originality in Nine Gates

Her two collections of essays (must reads, no pedantry here) are Nine Gates: Entering the Mind of Poetry (Harper Perennial, 1998) and Ten Windows: How Great Poems Transform the World (Knopf, 2015). She also translated a collection of poems by Japanese women with Mariko Aratani: The ink dark moon : love poems by Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu, women of the ancient Court of Japan (Vintage Classics). Her study The Heart of Haiku is available in Kindle Edition.

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Reading Jane Hishfield’s work is both a joy and education for your writerly self and a balm for your spirit. If by some incalculable misfortune you haven’t met her yet, seize this day.

© 2016, words, Jamie Dedes; photograph by A. Phillips and generously released into the public domain

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“The Mighty” (That would be you and me!) … and your Wednesday Writing Prompt

I am disabled. Hear me roar!

I am disabled but not unable.  Thanks to medical technology, fabulous and caring physicians, family support, social support (both online and off) and computer technology, I continue with my chosen career, my chosen causes and a life that is as full and engaging as anyone could hope.

Now, I’ve discovered The Mighty (details in the video below) thanks to my Bardo Group Beguines colleague, Lana Phillips. What a great find!

A wonderful idea, essentially an online support group for people who are dealing with chronic and catastrophic illness and sharing information and resources. The people who visit The Mighty site and/or write for it, share their stories (including stories of parenting). They are women and men who are ill or disabled themselves or who are caring for others who are ill or disabled … or, perhaps both.

We are so fortune in these days that there are support groups available. My own mother lived with cancer over and over again. First breast cancer, which kept reoccurring. Then thyroid, kidney and other cancers. Ultimately she died at 76 of breast and colon cancer.  In her day, there were no support groups,  no one in her life who could understand the complications: psychological, financial or physical. There was no adult who could observe, understand and intervene. She also suffered from mental illness and was in an almost constant state of stress and trauma.

Unlike my mom, I have the benefit of a support group at the Medical Center for people with interstitial lung diseases who are in pre-transplant (me), transplant and post transplant programs. I also belong to an off-line support group of people with “life-threatening” (read ultimately fatal) illnesses, which is run by the local Buddhist meditation center. Some are – like me – lucky enough to go on for years. I was diagnosed in 1999 with Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis, which is fatal within five years of diagnosis and for which there is no cure.  I’m still here because the diagnosis was wrong. There was no way to know that until time passed and reactions to medical treatments could be observed and evaluated. These proved that the condition is actually Hypersensitivity Pneumonitis. So, as you see, I’m still hanging out. Some of the members of our Buddhist group are not. Over the last seven years we’ve lost nineteen friends. That’s the tough part.

The upside is that our offline support groups provide us safe haven to share information, to be open about our fears and frustrations, and to share our joys. So too The Mighty, where there are a rather remarkable number of conditions addressed from a personal perspective and in a manner that is informed, compassionate and uplifting. Bravo!

WRITING PROMPT

Write a poem, short story or feature article about dealing with chronic catastrophic illness or disability. Directly or indirectly, illness and disability touch all our lives. It’s just part of this package called Life!  If you write an article, you might consider submitting it to The Mighty. Submission guidelines are HERE.

© 2016, words and photograph, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved.

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ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF PABLO NERUDA’S BIRTH: Everything Exists in a Word

Pablo Neruda (1904-1973), Parral, Chile
Pablo Neruda (1904-1973), b. Parral, Chile

“You can say anything you want, yes sir, but it’s the words that sing, they soar and they descend ….. I bow to them . . . I cling to them, I run them down, I bite into them . . I love words so much … The ones I wait for greedily … they glitter like colored stones, they leap like silver fish… They are foam, thread, metal, dew … I stalk certain words… They are so beautiful that I want to fit them all into my poem… I catch them in mid-flight, as they buzz past, I trap them, clean them, peel them, I set myself in front of the dish, they have a crystalline texture to me, vibrant, ivory, vegetable, oily, like fruit, like algae, like agates, like olives… And I stir them, I shake them, I drink them, I gulp them down, I mash them, I garnish them …. I leave them in my poem like stalactites, like slivers of polished wood, like coals, like pickings from a shipwreck, gifts from the waves … Everything exists in the word.” Pablo Neruda in his Memoirs

Photo credit ~ U.S. Public Domain, 1966, Neruda recording his poetry