WikiLeaks, Warnings, and We Women Who Write

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global warming, how animals warn their young, mothers and their warnings, Old English, Paul Fleischman's Poems for Two Voices, Pentagon, poems for two voices, warnings, WikiLeaks

After they leaked a set of Pentagon papers, WikiLeaks heeded warnings and is now asking for help in removing names from 15,000 other documents they’ve held back. The military told WL that their leaks may have resulted in harm to informants.

Well, that’s good if the warnings are legit and are heeded, but it’s my experience that warnings frequently aren’t. That is, perhaps they’re legitimate, but mostly they’re not heeded.

My closest experience of warnings are those We Mothers issue. Check Patty’s Page for a poem for two voices, the voices being two types of mothers. You can decide which were heeded more.

I love that heed comes from an Old English word that meant hood. I’m picturing that if I heed a warning I’ve got some type of protective guard over me. Comforting.

Mostly we mothers pray, watch the kids go out on their own, and take comfort that we’ve taught them things and perhaps they’ve learned. But, what about The Rest of the World. Right now? How come warnings aren’t being heeded? It seems to me that not only aren’t we heeding (the whole global warming issue is an example), we’re electing predators to office, despite and, maybe even because of, all the warnings.

Jefferson said a country that doesn’t read deserves the government it gets. Is that the problem? This entry has ended on a worrisome note. Check Patty’s Page. The two-voiced poem is lighter.

Patty 8/30/10

Giveaway Contest Continues and One More Great Thing About Love

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down there in the depths, giveaway contest, Juan Ramon Jimenex, my boat has struck

To enter the nine-word memoir giveaway contest, just go to the column at the right and scroll down to “Our Second Giveaway Contest.” Click on that title and submit your entry as a comment.

The mini-memoirs are knocking on the door of something important. Every one of them contains a life, or a portion of a life. They’re prompting me to make one of those fragile connections that in the beginning has to pull hard on my sleeve to get me to pay attention.

Here goes:

John and Ryan put a poem on the back of their marriage ceremony program. I didn’t see it until mid-way through the ceremony. I remember reading it during a lull, maybe a prayer that went on a bit long, or some such. I had to hold onto the seat cushion and grab Jack’s hand to keep from leaping for joy. Right there in front of me–in print!!–was a feeling that I’d had for years. An idea I thought was mine alone, one that keeps me at the same time anchored, buoyed, and moving forward.

I copy this poem into my notebook when I start a new one. Sometimes I copy it more than once. Why? Well, I’m not sure. Perhaps so that I remember how lucky I am.

It’s taped in my study where my peripheral vision catches a glimpse of it on a regular basis.

I have a feeling that my boat

has struck, down there in the depths,

against a great thing.

And nothing

happens!  Nothing … Silence …Waves …

–Nothing happens? Or has everything happened,

and are we standing now, quietly, in the new life?

–Juan Ramon Jimenez

9-Word Memoir Giveaway Continues and Some Thoughts on Writing Process

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where do ideas come from?

We’re getting some amazing memoirs. Scroll down or sideways or however it works to read some of them.

On another topic, since We Women Who Write are a writing group, we DO talk about where our ideas are coming from or not coming from–as in I. Have. No. Ideas. or  I. Have. No. Idea. Where. This. Came. From.  What is fun about the whole writing thing is how–once you’re onto an idea and LIVING with it so to speak–this idea becomes magnetic. Ideas, facts, colors, old pictures, diary entries appear and attach themselves. I’ll be at the YMCA and have to hop of the machine to jot a thought that refuses to wait. A sister or brother will call and begin to tell me something new that is EXACTLY what I was wondering about a particular story.

This has just happened with my story about Lois. The telegram and wedding pictures unearthed themselves from a basket of old papers. I was moving the basket to make way for the vacuum cleaner. I take a good look at the jumble of STUFF that’s in this wicker basket and out comes a small file with Just What I Want. (I know, I know, my reliable subconscious lead me there. Certainly vacuuming is an unusual thing for me to even contemplate doing, so right away we know there’s Something Afoot, or underfoot.  However it happened, it’s a good example of the kind of help I get as a writer, so long as I am trying to write. It’s like I’ve got assistants waiting for me to BIC. Just get my butt in the chair and the ideas will begin to accumulate, almost unbidden it seems.

Patty 8/23/10