I still like watching my plants.  Of course, right now it is in the middle of winter so I am only looking at my indoor plants although sometimes the primrose under the tree bloom.  They like the cold.

Each day I go around my house and give all of them a quick glance.  My snake plant which is very slow growing I love.  It is over two feet high and I am admiring its tall leaves which are fringed yellow.  It is our latest acquisition.

My office has several plants over the book case facing the window:  several different type of cactus and succulents.

A week ago I noticed new growth out of the jade plant there.  It was a small discovery but it gave me joy.  Each day I look at it and see if I could note the change in size.  It seems to be growing very quickly.

To me it is all a mystery.  Why some grow or not or even die.  And I like the unknown and mysteries.  I do my best to place the plant in the right light and remember to properly water it when it needs it but still it is all a mystery to me.

The plants are like my little kids.  You never know exactly how they are going to turn out.  You just do your best tending and taking care of them.  And then rest and accept the results.  And do what you can, when you can.  And rest again.

I try not to take anything for granted, even the shower I take.  For fifteen years the house I lived in had no shower.  I still remember that back then the big thing about staying in a motel was it would have a shower.

It is so easy to take your most basic freedoms for granted until you are in a situation when you lose them.  It happens in jails (which I never was in) or in hospitals.

I still remember although it was almost forty years ago I needed permission for almost everything.  To make a telephone call, to take a shower to take a walk, almost everything.

So I cherish my simple freedoms a little more although there are times I forget this.  Everything is by grace.  I keep coming back to this.  Everything is by grace.

It was a sunset I almost did not catch.  Bountifully gloriously streaked red covered a major part of the sky–the view I caught from my office window.  I was awed by the sky’s beauty over the tree tops and my breath was temporarily taken away.

I excitedly called my wife away from her computer to view the sight.  She ran for her camera and sought to capture the beauty of the sunset on the camera she was just learning to use, taking picture after picture.

A mere five minutes later the sky became gray.  I almost missed this display of God’s finest tapestry.  Such beauty!  How many other sunsets have I missed because my attention was elsewhere.

Each sunset, each dawn is different each day as if The Lord splashes his colors using different paints each time never to be seen again.  We should be so careless and free with our talents.

He, of course, is infinite.  And only sometimes do we even get even an inkling of his expanse.  Our world too quickly constricts.  And then we have to wait for His next moment always there.  Let’s consider it serendipity.  He is never far away.

Writing is not an end point but a journey.  You never really arrive.  Writing is a process.  Someone called my short article on journal keeping (which can be found on http://www.siggyscafe.com) a ‘blurb’.

That might be but it took me a lifetime to write.  Several decades of journal keeping.  My wife also did a masterful job of editing it.

I am well aware I will never write the great American novel.  I simply am not motivated that way.  I simply want to write something and get out as quickly as possible.  I am conscious of that.  I strive for simplicity and clarity.  I accepted that a long time ago.

The longer pieces I have written in my lifetime were very difficult for me to do.  I have written only a few short, short stories.  I find it interesting that a fellow writer who has the opposite problem — keeping the word count down — recommended that on some longer pieces she wanted to hear more detail.

Maybe I need to take her advice.  It certainly would stretch me.  There really is no point in which you have arrived as a writer although you might consider publication of a book one.

At every point you write, you whole past is impacting your writing.  Writing is always a process and journey.  Otherwise you are constantly repeat (constantly repeat (or) are constantly repeating) yourself.

A sense of wonder has to fuel your writing.  You have to allow yourself to be surprised by the unexpected and unknown.  And then be driven to write about your discoveries.

Writing about what you see and seeking to bridge the unknown and mystery is what fuels your writing.  Trying to fathom what you do not understand and stretching yourself in the process forces growth.

Underlying all this is your sense of wonder.  It comes and goes for most people.  And you can’t be overly concerned if life appears static and dull.  It will change again when you least expect it to.

You have to pay attention within and without.  And have the patience to note the simple things occurring around you.  Life is composed of many simple things.  And miracles always occur around you.

You just have to pay attention.  Your sense of wonder kindles your imagination and fuels your writing.  It gives it power.

Simplicity and clarity and honesty go hand and hand in writing.  And it always has to be personal–something your reader can grab, identify with–the more honest the better.

Realize your personality always comes through your writing.  You can’t really hide who you are.  It is really impossible to write anything without revealing you anyway.

I made a decision a long time ago.  I had to strive for simplicity and clarity and honesty if I were to be any good as a writer.

You can not write with clarity if you are not open.  And then again striving for simplicity and clarity forces you to remain as open as you can.

Readers usually appreciate honesty.  And simplicity and clarity and honesty go hand and hand so always strive for those qualities.

Writing is a renewable resource but first you have to tend to yourself.  Let’s compare writing to a forest.  If you cut down all the trees and do not replant, the forest is gone.

If you want to write, you have to do simple things like taking proper care of yourself.  Yes, even things like eating and sleeping right.  You can get away with it for awhile but not forever.

You have to order your life a certain way.  I can’t tell you how.  You have to figure out what works for you.  You will never run out of ideas and the words to express them.

Of course, you have to regularly sit down and write.  There is no way to get around that.  Otherwise the window of opportunity is gone.  And you can never go back but forward.

You also have to mull things over and permit yourself to do nothing occasionally or something totally unrelated to your writing.

Some of this requires empty spaces.  Your brain is always working even when you are not aware of it.  If you don’t do this, your words will peter out eventually.

Writing is only the tip of the iceberg.  You simply pick it up at some point and record that which is yours.  You live to write not write to live.  If you treat yourself right, you will never run out of ideas.

When I Read A Poem…

Author: siggy

When I read a poem of mine in public, I have the audience for the first ten seconds.  If I don’t capture their attention right away, I lose them so the beginnings of my poems have to be interesting and are important.  I do not read a poem in public if there is any part of it I am not satisfied with.  I can’t read the poem confidently and with the right inflections and feelings if I have any doubts concerning the poem.  I have to believe in the whole package, that the poem was put together well.  So with any piece of writing:  you can’t have any major doubts of it, if you want to submit it for publication.  It has to be as good as you can get it.

Sometimes I do not see the birds.  I wonder where they went, whether I am just missing them.  A steady stream of titmouse, downy woodpecker and flocks of slate covered junco come to my feed I put out for them.

Presently there is not one bird out there.  The dogs were out and just charged in.  Now I am waiting for my visitors.  I do not remember exactly where I read it in the Bible but it says if God can feed the sparrow how can we possibly doubt God won’t take care of us.

I think it uses the word lowly to describe the sparrow.  I put out birdseed on the ground and keep three feeders full.  The birds do not, I am sure, spend one second worrying where their next meal comes from.  Even in winter.

If God takes can take care of the lowly sparrow how can we possibly doubt He will not take care of us?  Of (???) ye humans of bad faith!

I Am Not Afraid Of Death

Author: siggy

I am not afraid of death.  Not as much any more.  I have to live my life.  No one know when that appointed hour will come for sure.  What is worse is not living your life to the fullest.  That is worse than death.

The prospect of my demise became closer.  I had to look at it and face my fears.  There is always the fear of suffering and becoming helpless.  All I could do was grab the control that was in my reach and leave the rest to the Almighty.

Maybe it would be more accurate to say that I feared the grim reaper less.  I wanted my wife to be in the best situation financially as she could be:  wills in place, etc.  She also trusts the Lord.

That really is your only source of comfort:  God is in control and you can rely on Him.  When you realize that, death is less threatening and you can put down your guard.  Every one faces death.  You are not alone.

You can’t follow trends concerning the subject matter you write about.  You can’t possibly remain genuine.  You have to write about what is deepest in your soul, that which is begging to get out.

There was a popular book out a while ago, “Do What You Love The Money Will Follow.”  Maybe someone should write a book titled, “Write About What You Love Money Will Follow.”  There are no guarantees you will become rich but someone out there will want to read it and buy your book.

I like the famous quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson in his essay of Self-Reliance:  ‘There is a time in every man’s education when he arrives at the conviction: that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better for worse as his portion;…’  You have to mine the field that is only given to you.  We are all wired differently and have different concerns.  That is all you can explore as a writer.  The better you do it and the more genuine, the more people will want to read it.  No one said you will necessarily become rich in the process but at least some people will care about what you write for it was you, you expressed.

When I worked on a poem, it was the most important thing in the whole world.  Until recently, practically all my poems were generated from my journals.  When I wanted to convert an entry to a poem, the time I spent working on it was the most important thing in the whole world.  I would lose myself in the poem.

Time would disappear.  I would first want to get it (the particular experience I wanted to capture) all down.  That was the function of my journal.

I was not afraid initially of being redundant.  I knew I could go back and eliminate the repetition.  Then I would go back, condense it, shape it, get it to the point I could not do any more with it.

Then I would read it to my wife and listen to her reaction and any suggestions she may have.  And go back to it.  This may happen the next day or whenever I had time although I did not want to lose interest in the poem.

I would again look at, refine it and polish it, see what I could eliminate, what got in the way, see if any phrase needed rearranging, if the timing was wrong.  I did not want to tamper too much with the original.  I would work with the poem until I could not do any more with it again.  I would have my wife hear it again.

I was very attuned to how it sounded out loud.  Did it need emphasizing here or there, did I like the way a word or phrase or line sounded to my ear.  At some point I considered the poem finished.  A lot of this was done by instinct.  Some poems I am never happy with.  And others I simply discard or look at some other time in the future.

Down the road I may venture to read it in public.  That takes a lot of courage.  Many do not make it that far.  Few get to the keyboard.  I have to feel the entry has possibilities.  That is somewhat the process of my poems.