My Writing life

Yes, it's true.  I agree with Emily.  I do dwell in possibility.  I love the process, the work, and the possibility that something amazing is around the corner.  Some truly wonderful things have happened to me over the last few years.  Back to the days that I first showed Judy Johns my work, and I joined Word Weavers.  The first time I met a Pulitzer Prize winning poet in person.  Wow, I felt like I was sitting near greatness!  Then there was the first contest win, and eventually my first publication.  A few years later, I won the contest which gave my first chapbook collection a home.  I poured my heart and soul into my writing.  No one could tell me what to say.  It was the one thing I had true control of.  And it saved me in so many ways, gave me a voice when I thought I had none.

One of my poems "Whale Watching" was made into a Broadside and inserted into each Winter issue of a poetry journal in Oregon.  My work was published in 20 poetry journals and magazines.

My writing slowed down for awhile.  Survival mode and three jobs made it difficult to be inspired.  I felt like I was dry and barren.  I wasn't.  I was healing from many years of abuse.  My children and I , we were healing.

Today I am returning to my inspired self again.  The words of poems I love so much are swimming through my brain.  I can see them when I close my eyes to sleep.  I bought some new (and used) poetry books. Rumi, Mary Oliver, and Federico Garcia Lorca.  I read and read them.  I am crazy in love with Lorca! Wow, what an inspiration.   I am writing like I once did, early mornings, and sometimes late into the night.  I feel like me again.  It's coming back together, this life which I once thought I had lost.  I am writing and submitting, and contacting my writer friends again.  I'm back.

There was a question in a magazine.  It said something like:  Are you just biding time, or are you doing what you feel you are meant to do?   Yes, I absolutely am.

Just plain people

Yesterday, we made a project of cleaning up the downstairs family room.  Along with that came the finding of many beloved items and some of my mother's family history papers.  My maternal grandmother was a Dastrup.  A family I have long admired for their many members and accomplishments.  Dakota has been reading in a large book titled "Dastrup Family," detailing pedigree charts and photos.  In this book, however, I found something I really love.  It is written in a small personal bio of a man named Lawrence Alvin Dastrup. He lived long ago and I do not know him, but found myself touched by this obviously humble man's words.

"Also, what I like to call a hobby, or at least I have a decided interest in it, is people; just plain everyday people.  I have decided that it isn't what people pretend to be, or put out to the world to be, that counts; it's what they really are down inside, that really counts, in this life and in the great hereafter.  I have always admired the sincere, honest, unpretentious type of person, and have loathed the pretender and insincere human animal.  Honesty in financial matters, sincerity, humility toward my fellow man, and doing unto others as I would wish them to do unto me, have always been high ideals to attain in my life.

Though I have had no unusual or faith promoting experiences I can recall, I have realized all through my life that there was a Supreme Being, who is our Heavenly Father, and who guides and directs all people in their journey through life, from the time of birth to the time of death, and whom we all can seek, through prayer, for comfort and guidance in times of crisis, despair, and in everyday living.  To me, faith promoting experiences do not have to come in the unusual or unrealistic way; to see the sun come up in the morning, to see winter change to Spring, to Summer, to Fall, and to Winter again; to see new life come upon the earth; to see how devoted our people can be in time of need or disaster; to see the simple things of life which we take for granted, such as to see a child grow and develop into manhood; these are the faith promoting things to me, which make me have faith in my religion and in my Heavenly Father.  What more does a man have to have to be a believer and to have faith in the Word of God and in the good books?"

He was not a writer, but I think maybe he should have been.

King Meadows Ranch

On May 24th, we headed South to my Mom's hometown in Sevier County.  My relatives (the Dastrups) make up a large part of this little area.  I remember going there for Family reunions, as a child.  My Mom was very close to her cousin DeReese, and we would visit him and his family as often as we could.  He passed away years ago. This time, we had been invited to stay with another cousin of my mom's that I do not know very well.  My boys long for a connection with family, and so do I.  And so . . . we went.  Up into Sigurd canyon and into the beautiful hills, where the gate to his property was opened for us. Wow!

Needless to say, the house and property was absolutely amazing.  However, it could not compare to the warm welcome we received from Mack and Norma.  They made us feel so special, and wanted us to stay as long as we wanted.  Sunday, we had a quiet evening, enjoying the beautiful views from their balcony, and telling family stories.  What an interesting life they both have lived.  Uncle Mack reminded me so much of his brothers and has a great sense of humor.  He told us about his mission to Finland, his years in Counter Intelligence in Europe during the Korean war, and serving in the presidency of the Manti temple, and later being a "Sealer" there.

Please don't get the idea that my 85 year old relative is ready for a chair and TV.  No no no!  Monday morning, he couldn't wait to get his ATV's out and ride all over the property with us.

My favorite pic!  What a great time!

"Benny's Cabin" is on his property.  The old home of an old time Boot legger.

Here are some other lovely shots of his many acres of land.  I took my life into my own hands, riding with my boys down trails and across meadows.  Ha ha.

We also went to the Richfield Cemetery, where Paul worked to edge and improve our Dastrup family graves.  I was able to put flowers on my beloved Grandma's grave, and also my Great grandparents and Aunts and Uncles.  So nice!

We are so grateful for this wonderful weekend.  We will miss Mack and Norma, and can't wait to go back and see them again.  I love my family!

Traveling to the past tomorrow

We are headed to Sigurd tomorrow. My mother grew up there, and I haven't been back in years. This will be an adventure for us, and possibly a bond with a relative, and a walk into the past. We will see. Happy Memorial Day.

Katie

Soooo... I watched a sad movie with my family tonight.  The only important thing to say here is that it was about two women who had been friends all of their lives.  Of course, one of them becomes terminally ill, and the other comes to help her.  You get the idea.

And then ... I shed a lot of tears and ran into the other room to call MY best friend.  Okay, to sob to her about how much I love her, and how much I treasure her friendship!  Before I could get this all said, she informed me that last week was "Amazing Earthfest" in Kanab.  This is a very large and fun festival of music, art, and tours of parks and monuments. All to celebrate the beauty and natural wonder of the area.  Anyway, there was a Poetry reading event.  Katie took one of my poems, "Visiting Ghosts and Ground," and read it there.  She said she almost made it through without her voice breaking up with emotion.  I am so honored that she chose to share one of my poems, and proud of her for getting up there and reading it.

Soooo... this is me after the movie.  Sob. After the cry on the phone with Katie. Sob.  I am ever so grateful for my best friend, and all the memories we have shared since we were four years old.   We've been like sisters all of our lives.  Love you, Katie.

Little Days

Bouncing

The ceiling’s getting closer to me,

he yelled.

Springs creaking

almost as loud as his breath.

Mom!

Watch me.                                                 

Small hairs glued to his red face,

and the rest standing straight up

with blanket electricity.

Bouncing higher,

feet first,

sideways,

and bum down.

The pillows drip

to the floor.

He falls dead on his back

on the bed,

exhausted,

heavily breathing,

with hands over heart.

I rush to his side

as he closes one peeking eye

and giggles.

Stacy W. Dixon

Years ago, Carson came running down the hallway to my room, and gave me the first lines of that poem.  I finished it within minutes.  Even though it flowed easily, with the aid of the image my son gave me,  it is one of my first published and most often published poems.  Carson always called it "my poem" and asked me to read it and tell the story behind it for his school class each year.  

No one on earth has inspired me more than my children.  I love the ages they are now, and how much fun we all have together.  

Maybe it's because I am sick with bronchitis, or maybe I just have the blues.  Lately, I have been missing my "little" boys.  Those moments they would come running full speed at the sight of me, and jump into my arms. When they would come into my room and climb up on my bed to cuddle me with little plump hands.  Those priceless eyes when they looked at me.  I do miss those little days.  Yes, I do.

An eye for little things

I have always known that I'm an observer of things.  It's part of what makes me good at writing.  I notice things others don't.  Always paying attention.  

Recently I was told that I have an eye for photography.  Hmmmm.  I never thought about that.  I do love nature.  When we go out anywhere in wild areas, Paul and my boys like to hike and search for possible treasure.  Once again, I find my treasures in small places, or simple views.  I go wandering around, looking for Wildflowers, or old fences, train tracks.  When I find them, I snap a pic with my phone. Today, I was looking back at my recent photos, and enjoying what I saw.

I decided to share.  Thank you, God, for all your wonders.