Tag Archives: stones

Stones in the Garden…

I’ve always wanted a garden even though I don’t know much about growing things.  I have destroyed a rubber plant twice and they’re supposed to be hard to kill.  I keep thinking that if I have a designated place for plants, they will grow well with water, air and soil and maybe a few stones here and there.  Certain plants need more or less sun than others.  I don’t know the exact planting season for each plant – hope it is on the package of seeds.  What I do know, is the smell and feel of good soil, played in enough of it as a child while digging up ant hills and worms.  I could always find at least one worm under a dug up stone.  The worms were always found in the best part of the soil.  Why did I spend so much time in dirt?  Feeding the pet ants of course!  Yeah, yeah, they didn’t know they were our pets but me and my big brother visited them all summer long with crumbs and water and ice cream so they were “pets.”  And, if we were careful, we could see the tunnels virtually intact once we started the excavation.

The observation and excavation skills I learned those summers work well when I’m writing or collecting moments for my writing.  I have to see the inner workings of things mainly because I believe there is a reason for everything and what’s on the inside affects your outside world more than you know.  So, when I say “does not cry” it is because I am hinting at a backstory to that character not trying to direct the actor.  I am lifting stones to get to the worm-filled soil.  My mother used to tell me that the worms made the soil good; at first sight a worm can appear to be an icky thing but ultimately the icky-ness is what enriches the soil or story…  The simple smell of it is as wonderful as spring rain on pavement and the feel of it in the hands always takes me back to the beginning of things…the place of possibility…

Going At It…

There is a rhythm – an inner rhythm – that bears witness to the deep things that move us… This rhythm keeps us going at it even with all the jolts and pot holes we must endure. It can put us in cruise control and get us there – to that next play that wants to be written. The play, like a baby due to be born, does not consider extenuating circumstances that may be in the way; it is oblivious. It just wants to be born at its appointed time. So, we honker down, raise our collars against the wind and go at it…rocking to our rhythms, keeping time, listening to our inner beats…writing our stories… At times, we must remind ourselves to shake off the lulls and keep pushing against the stones. Other times, we must remind ourselves to go into the meadow to rest a while before that next big PUSH – because we have to push…

I have been told that “crazy” is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. As a playwright, I tend to do just that – I start a play that spends all of me to complete – yet I expect not to be so utterly exhausted each time I type “The End.” I expect to stretch, take a day off then pull out my next project and get started right away. Instead, I am so spent; I have to take a moment. And, I have to be careful to take enough time to really rejuvenate my “self”, depending on the subject matter I was dealing with. I have to understand that “going at it” includes making sure I am squared away and ready for action. I have to exercise my body, relax my mind, and eat good healthy food especially after I’ve pulled marathons at the computer with less than adequate food and stretching breaks. I used to feel guilty about taking that time like there was some invisible code that prohibited rest breaks. I would put myself on rigorous schedules of write, submit, research, write, submit, research, research, write, write, submit – et cetera, et cetera, et cetera… The only time off I would take would be to see a play or read a play. Since I started exercising, my mind is clearer; I sleep better, feel better and even lost a few pounds. Now all I have to work in is just a little more “pamper” time that includes spas and long walks on the beach… There is something about the ebb and flow of the ocean that gives me strength…maybe it’s the rhythm – that whole “going at it” sort of rhythm…