Back to Inspiration

Hello everyone! I've been silent for a while again, but it's not surprising with all the events of the past two months. I'm going through a very motivated phase at the moment and writing more than usual - working on two short stories, writing more poems, and getting feedback on my 'best 16 poems' with a view towards getting a pamphlet out eventually. My mothers' writing group continues to go strong and we will soon start gathering material for our own collection.

Fuel for writerly inspiration came from attending a poetry event at popular coffee shop The Red Roaster on Friday night, where my friend and excellent poet Bernadette Cremin was reading from her new book "Miming Silence", along with poet George Szirtes. I helped Bernie put together the shortened pamphlet form of the book for her recent Ireland tour, so had had a sneak preview of some of the poems. As every time I witness her perform, I was captivated by her voice, her unique choice of words, and the way she is, well, just so 'at one' with her poems, it's as if she lives them out on the stage for us. Bern is one of the few poets I know whose work is just as good performed as live. George Szirtes' poetry struck me as very deep and existential, exquisitely beautiful in the style of a classic painting, and requiring multiple readings to penetrate, but I enjoyed the glimpse into a different world and will certainly check out his work on the page.

It all inspired me to go to more poetry events again: my goal will be one a month; and to start performing in the open mike slots again, frightening as it can be. I have sent my best 16 poems to a poet friend for some critiques and am hoping to be able to eventually interest one of the smaller, independent publishers who welcome new writers. But first I have to get out there and be heard again - my poet friend Lou-Ice was 'scouted' on Friday night when she performed in the open mike slot, so who knows!

In October I moved into a houseshare with some friendly folk but have decided to go for my dream of the community that I shared with you all before. I've realised that living with people who are on a similar path and who can support each other to live at our highest potential, is more important than living with other parents. In fact, I've found that living with other parents and children can be, well, a little complicated! As I've often discussed on here, parenting styles differ so much, and when different families are under the same roof it can be a challenge. So, currently I am meeting with people who are interested in forming a yogic, ecological community with me, and am hoping (with a good dose of surrender) to manifest this in late December or early January. It seems a pity to uproot J again when he took about a month to get settled into our new place, but I know he will benefit so much from being around people who are all dedicated to a spiritual path and to being conscious and compassionate to each other,and hearing lots of yoga mantra's into the bargain!

J turned two on the 1st of October, which felt like a big milestone for me too. It was a bittersweet day as it was also the day he and I officially moved out (although my relationship with his dad ended in August). Still, the change has all been positive, and J has adapted so well. He is using 4 and 5 word sentences now, and I can hardly believe the insights and combinations he comes up with. He tells me about people being 'upset' and 'trying' to do things, which is amazing at the age of only 25 months (I reckon!). It's wonderful being able to get an insight into the workings of his minds through his increased capacity to express himself. After settling in well at his nursery initially, he has been getting more and more upset recently, and really not wanting me to leave him - which in turn, of course, makes me feel upset. So I'm looking at other options. The nursery he attends is lovely and I don't think there's anything wrong with it; but I think J just is at the stage of development (and in his particular personality) where he needs one consistent person to bond to, as has been shown by the way he's been following one nursery staff member around and crying when she leaves. I hate to think of him being sad, especially because he is such a happy boy in most of his life.

Speaking of which, I need to go and fetch him from nursery now. I still don't have broadband at home so my opportunities to blog are limited, so be patient with me! Once I've got feedback on a new poem I plan to post it on here very soon...

'The FIre Dancers' Poem, and an Update

This poem emerged out of a homework exercise for my mothers' writing group, which was to write from all five senses about a scene or place you haven't been to before. I cheated a little, because I wrote about a festival I attended last year too, and about fire dancing, which I've often seen - but I certainly got in contact with my senses in a way I hadn't before. Here it is:

The Fire Dancers

©Morgan Nichols

Their ropey muscles entwine with man’s oldest force of nature:

Dancing their fear out

Under the empty smell of stars

We, watching, taste the burning oil on the air,

Hear the crack and whir as chains spin,

Their hard metal a safe distance from my

Boy’s soft yielding skin.

The wine fills my pores as my eyes trace the

Fire dancers’ fluid motions,

Hear the swell and hush of voices

And the expectant

Silence

Punctuated by a baby’s cry.

Feedback welcome! And now for a little update. J is doing well in nursery so far - his settling in sessions and the first two proper sessions have been absolutely fine, with no tears at all. And apparently he didn't even ask for me until the end of the session at the last one! I'm still looking for another job, and went for an interview on Thursday that seemed to go well, for a company whose ethos I really resonate with...so fingers crossed...I should hear soon. I'm also waiting to hear if I've got an interview for two other jobs, and I'm able to do some work-from-home freelancing for the company I currently work for, to tide me over. So I have hope that things will work out.

My living arrangement plans have changed a few times since I last wrote. The community plan didn't come through for various reasons, but mainly because I decided I didn't want to be the only person with a small child in a house full of childless people. Much as they might love children, everyone wants a little peace at the end of the day (or in the middle of the night, or on a Saturday morning) and I would feel too self-conscious and apologetic if my son was the only cause of disturbance.

I then decided to look for a place on my own, but looking at studio's, more in my budget, was rather disturbing, and one-bedroom flats far too expensive when you factor in agency fees and deposits. So...now I will be staying at friends' houses for two weeks until I move in somewhere in the middle of October. This might be a houseshare with a single father, an acquaintance I've known since I moved to Brighton who is also into yoga and meditation; his daughter, and two others, which feels like something that could work. Plus the house has a garden, always a bonus!But my final decision will wait until I see the house - it's about to be painted and have some repair jobs done on it first.

I was astonished to see that I now have 108 complete typed pages of my novel, when I was splicing bits together last night! Somehow I hadn't realised it was that much. I'm going to get my good friend and fellow writer Lou-Ice to have a look at some of it soon (no, I won't lumber her with the whole thing!) and tell me what she thinks. I finally feel ready to let my 'baby' see the light of day.

I've been reading two fantastic books, 'Broken Open' by Elizabeth Lesser, co-creator of the famous Omega Institute, and 'The Value in the Valley' by Iyanla Vanzant. Both are 'strong women' books about how to tough out difficult times in your life and find the lessons therein. They are powering me up as I continue to face uncertainty and challenges with a steadfastness and patience that I never knew I had. Either motherhood has increased my stamina or my long-term practice of yoga and meditation is bearing fruit in a faith that I actually feel grateful to be able to manifest; grateful for this opportunity of broken dreams and new beginnings to access my warrior heart. Bring it on!

A Time for Every Season

I'm often amazed by the effect of uplifting company on my mood. Yesterday I was feeling a bit down and bored with the whole Stay-at-Home Mom routine. Morning time felt like wading through quicksand as I tried to eat my breakfast, read to J, and deal with his frustration when he couldn't get Eeyore to fit on top of the microwave.

Meeting up with a good friend and fellow mother later that afternoon, in the lovely Royal Pavilion Gardens, I caught some unexpected sunshine - both in the sky and in my mood. The key, for me, is honesty. I've met with fellow mom friends where that plain-speaking connection was absent, and gone away feeling even more alone. Susan Maushart's book The Mask of Motherhood discusses the phenomenon of mothers pretending everything is OK to each other, and therefore robbing themselves of the true support they could offer each other.

I'm not having any truck with that anymore. The ambivalence of motherhood, as well as tips and tricks on how to handle toddler tantrums, are the bread and butter of my conversations with my peers. Being a stay-at-home mom but feeling guilty for wishing you could get away sometimes. Or being a work-ouside-the-home mom and feeling guilty for being away so much.


One of the less-talked about things my friend and I discussed was the successive 'stages' of motherhood. How, now that we've got past the first year (and I'm nearly done with the second), it's hard to look back to that symbiotic, all-consuming early motherhood stage. Like once you are a teenager, you dissociate yourself from the things of childhood, not wanting to be reminded of that painful dependence.


Similarly, I find I'm gravitating more towards mothers of older children, those my son's age or older. Those who can show me the progression a little further down the line, and who are not still completely wrapped up in the newborn stage, where you live, eat, breathe and sleep baby. I'm also starting to do things such as plan poetry gigs, like my upcoming ones with my Writing Sisters Collective at Brighton Poetry Society on the 27th July, and the Out of The Ordinary Festival in September. You can listen to some of my performance poetry on my My Space page.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with the 'submersion' stage, and it's entirely appropriate at that stage. I was like that too. But now I'm starting to spread my wings and take moves towards re-establishing my own life. Today I visited the Brighton Buddhist Centre, had a chat about their programme of study and meditation and sat in their shrine room in much-needed silence; sat on the seafront and meditated looking at the sea; read a short story; went to the library; and now I'm procrastinating before getting down to some work on my short stories! All of these things rejuvenate me and bring me back to a sense of who I am, in parallel to J's increasing independence.



(Image courtesy of Brighton Buddhist Centre website)

Dreams...and New Poems

Do you ever wake up with a thread of a thought on your mind, and then lose it as soon as you get out of bed? Or do you have dreams that stick with you throughout the day, even though they seem so removed from your everyday life? These 'first thoughts', or dream thoughts, can prove very fruitful in the creative process.

The theme of my Mothers' Writing Group homework from last week, was 'Following the Golden String'. I got the idea from Jacaranda Press, and basically it involves writing down your first thought(s) on waking, then later in the day sitting down and doing some free writing, stream of consciousness style, emerging out of that word or phrase.

Frequently my first thought on waking is merely an incoherent 'Aargh', as I wonder how I can possibly get some more sleep, and my toddler, J, is climbing all over me. So after a few days of being unable to recall a first thought, I decided to write about a strange dream I had instead. Often I remember my dreams quite vividly, and in the past have kept dream journals.

So here is my dream poem, followed by another poem I write quite 'on the spot', while sitting in the beautiful Woodvale Cemetery, where I often do my writing.

America: A Dream

When I got off the plane,

I didn’t recognise the place.

But I knew, somehow, it was

America. Land of vast plains

I could travel with an eye,

Of motels & striplights & cowboy rodeo –

Things I don’t know, but could imagine,

Mainly from books.

They say America’s the land of the greedy

But I’m thinking about Ralph Waldo Emerson

And Walt Whitman and TS Eliot’s

‘The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock’

And I think what they all had in common

Was emptiness,

The emptiness and openness of the land.

I walk, and my steps are as big as this place,

As big as the moon,

And it’s limitless what I can do.

©Morgan Nichols, July 2009.

Crow

Crow struts,

Sleek-winged

Like a chief inspector

Eyes appraise me

White butterfly darts across

- he’s gone

©Morgan Nichols, July 2009.

Seagulls and Other Things

This was written at Queens Park recently.

Seagulls and Other Things

Seagulls crouch in puddles of white and grey,
dotting the green and sometimes
stealing children's food -

but now they are like statues,
not vultures,
one preening with his scalloped yellow beak
another with a grey beak,

balancing on one webbed foot

this is where he belongs,
no question

He eyes me but I have no food.
In the distance the screech and whir
of the children's playground
and the descending circles of muck
on the pond.

the seagull walks off,
unimpressed, and I remember coming
here when Jude was too young to run
and experienced the green and the seagull
and the pond through his passive senses only

and how my loneliness has dimmed since then
now that he accompanies me
in speech as well as body,

and seems to say he loves me
when he looks up at me,
breast in mouth,
and says 'baby'.