Fieldnotes, March 9, 2015

in the distance, calling

First, I have, maybe, “what’s been going around.” Up and down all night long, and not,
for a cup of tea. So, a quiet day at home, with allergy teared eyes, and a pressure in my abdomen that “feels” like the shape of an shortened, upturned “u”. Which is to say, a smaller version of a smile? It feels like this, as a shape, but it doesn’t feel good, like a smile
usually would.

Be that as it may; let ‘er rip-
that’s how I am this morning/and now, at 1:30pm.
warm coffee.
heater to my right side. stomach rumbling. intestines churning.

on my iPad-my sample (why wait? start reading your new book now! amazon)
of Claudine Rankin’s, “Citizen”. (if you don’t know this book, you should)
on Spotify-Sheila Chandra, who is no longer singing because her voice has been taken away from her. Retrospective>ONE
***The Heart Attack Sutra by Karl Brunnholz, “…if we look into impermanence in a deeper way, we end up with emptiness.”
***The Entering, by, me. Editing. Intentionalizing (don’t think this is a word).
I let my husband read it. His reading , talking about it, using the characters names out loud; has made it all feel more real than just 50,000 characters in a word document.
It’s not over, or finished, and far from complete.
It’s just the beginning;
and again,
and again.
****Bhanu Kapil-I read her blog( ),
almost daily. She inspires me, confuses me, constantly. Pushes me into experimenting/taking apart/creating an entire new lexicon. How to use words.
Writing somatically. Viscerally. I often don’t know what she is saying, intellectually and at the same time, I know, in my gut, what she is conveying. So, I keep returning. And, through her, I’ve discovered many writers. She has a set of 12 questions from one of her earlier titles, “The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers.” I carry them around with me, in the back of my too many journals. I’ll post them here, I don’t think she’ll mind. She’s teaches writing at Naropa up in Boulder.

I don’t think I’ll ever use the word, nadir, ever. …The worst moment, of least hope.
I don’t think it suits me or any story I would tell, but, then again, I could be mistaken.

I’ve been reading about public shaming and social media.
I’ve been listening to Brene Brown talk about vulnerability and courage.

Genesis, in the beginning. I can see using this word.
Being sick makes me vulnerable. I can’t hide from myself.

First, the 12 Questions (you try?)

1. Where are you and whom do you love?
2. Where did you come from/how did you arrive?
3. How will you begin?
4. How will you live now?
5. What is the shape of your body?
6. Who was responsible for the suffering of your mother?
7. What do you remember about the earth?
8. What are the consequences of silence?
9. Tell me what you know about dismemberment?
10. Describe a morning you woke without fear.
11. How will you/have you prepare(d) for your death?
12. And what would you say if you could?

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