Professor J's Place

This morning at Upward Bound, we were doing revision workshops on the personal statements my students are writing. One of the young women began to read her essay. I stopped her. You need to speak louder and read slower. Your words are gold. She looked at me quizzically. You need to read as though what you have to say is important, precious--not "this is just some shit I wrote." And then I remembered. High School.  These kids are in high school and I'm talking like a sailor. Of course, R--, the boy who wants to become a writer, giggled and said, "I love you Miss Jensen." But I should behave. Back to the girl. Her words were gold. Her story inspiring. And she could barely read for the fear and the shame. Gah! The return of the fear! I don't know how to teach against the fear. Except to keep saying, "your words are gold, they are precious; you have something to say." Lucy Calkins is talking to children in this video . Let's...

617 N. St. Mary's Ave Yesterday, the wonderful Joy Harjo posted this on Facebook: Yesterday I hosted my fears. I allowed them to eat everything in the house, fart and burp and take over the tv control. When I finally saw them for who they were, I told them to get out. They blew into nothing, disappeared. Joy Harjo . Today, my wonderful friend Bluebird posted this on her blog: Before you start climbing down that first hill, I want you to halt, sit down and listen. I know you have jobs/responsibilities/children/health issues/money problems and I know that you aren’t sure what to do next/are feeling as though you’re shirking your “real” responsibilities/are hitting that point where self-doubt has got you by the neck and is asking you, with stinky cheese breath— “How DARE you?” And you’re tired. And you don’t know where this leads. And it was more work than you thought it would be. And you don’t know if your stuff is any good. Bluebird...

Life is good these days. The other day, I had this rush of love--and I realized it was from me to me.  All these years I've heard that you must love yourself. All these years I've thought it one of those things that people just said. And here I am--loving myself. I am being creative again. I am starting to look at the world as a series of images, a series of poems. I haven't thought that way in a long time, and it's good to be back home.

Friday I was able to go to the opening of Salon International at the Greenhouse Gallery as the guest of my friend Susan Carlin.  If you are in San Antonio, you should go to this show! It is almost 400 paintings--almost all of which are brilliant. Here is Susan with the painting she entered in the show: "Gentleman Traveler. " Anyway, I have spent the past several days  posting a poem a day on Facebook for National Poetry Month. It has been great submerging myself in the word. I've also had the opportunity to work several times at Susan's gallery, to purchase new music (and even to receive some as a gift --thanks Cheri), and to puchase new art (a painting by Bonnie Mann and a cup by Gary Rith ). I love creativity. I love being around artists and supporting their work. And it is important to support art, I think. But Friday night, as I was being introduced to people as, "my friend Karen," I joked with another friend--the lovely artist Patty Cooper -- that...

This morning I was listening to an interview with Joni Mitchell on the Tavis Smiley show. Joni was talking about creativity, sensitivity, and her unusual aura, when I got an overwhelming urge to find one of my mother's prints, frame it, and put it above my desk so I could see it everyday while I'm working. This is a print she made in 1989--It is a self portrait. I first found this print this summer (three years after her death), when I was getting ready to move. There was a large container underneath her bed with dozens of prints and drawings I had never seen. I was blown away by this image. Mamma loved birds. We often had finches in our home (I still have our last two), and she fed wild birds as well. When I found this box of prints, I was amazed by the number of bird allusions in her work. Painting herself with feathers is particularly telling, I think. Here's one just for fun: Later, when I got to the garage, I found some of her plates for printing. This piece of paper w...