Julie Unplugged

Dear Mom: Compelling is Written All Over Her -

The backlight from the sun blocks the view of this enormous homeless city. I'll go back next week and photograph it when the light is better.

Dear Mom,

 

I wasn’t expecting to find you when I was focused on my search for a hiking trail recommended by my friend, Michelle. All I wanted to do was catch a good shot of the sunset. When I scrambled up the hill to what I thought was the path, I caught my breath. A virtual tent city, a shanty town – an enormous complex of people’s homes underneath this bridge I cross daily.

Other people might run away.  I hesitated but I stayed. The lighting wasn’t good under there or I would have taken photos.

This sight had “compelling” written all over it and might wake some people up who are completely unaware of the homelessness right in their neighborhoods, hidden away.

You were waving your arms at me, to get my attention.

I saw you and could recognize the ravages of methamphetamine. “Can you take me to 19^th and M street please? They took all my things, all I have is here… they took all my clothes, everything,” you told me.

You had a suitcase.

You had a trashbag filled with recyclables.

You had no shame, no embarrassment at asking me: owner of a new car, an expensive smart phone and much more than I bet you remembered ever having.

I asked what was at 19^th and M. “My Uncle,” you told me. You mentioned your son, and your daughter, and your other children. I had no idea where they were, no idea how old they were because my guess is you were probably much younger than you looked with your hair neatly combed albeit in a very offbeat style.

“I built this place and they wrecked it!” you said, seeming to not want to stop talking for fear I might vaporize.

You do see things that aren’t real, you told me. You do hear things you don’t think are here.

We put your broken suitcase empty of clothes and your collection of cans and plastic in the back of my car.

We drove two miles to where you needed to go. I asked your name. You told me. I told you my name.

You said you recognized me. Perhaps you do. Or perhaps I am another of those things you have seen that aren’t real. It doesn’t matter to me. You had enough sense to not smoke your cigarette in my car and before we had gone a mile you started calling me your fairy godmother.

I took you where you asked to go and you surprised me when you pulled out a cell phone. I wondered if your children had called you today on this Mother’s Day. Maybe you weren't aware it was Mother’s day.

I took the suitcase out and carried it to the side of the building as you asked me.

I told you to take care. We hugged, a real heart-to-heart hug. “I guess I do believe in fairy godmothers,” you said.

I smiled and went about the rest of my business of the day.

You, dear Mom, will forever be a part of my lexicon now.

You are in my prayers as are your children.

Finding you and helping you, another mother, was so much more important than finding the perfect sunset shot – even though I managed to get a pretty cool image there as well.

Perhaps we were each others’ Fairy Godmother.

* * * * *

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© 2013 Julie Jordan Scott

Today - Binge in a Healthy Way - for the Love of Words

I woke this morning at precisely 3:57 a.m.

I was wide awake before my eyes read the time on my cell phone and I knew there was no getting sleep back.

It is strange to be homesick for a place you’ve never lived. I am back here, though, back at this place I have called home for more than two decades. I have been reminded repeatedly to pay attention and listen. I can take that absolutely literally and be astonished by the crow having a love fest of sound behind me. I can also say I am noticing I let my coffee get cold again before I could fully enjoy it. Or the motorcycle, I am guessing from the sound of Japanese origin: I just heard that.

I can also tell myself to pay attention to what is in front of me now in my day rather than continue to lean into what was there for me last week.

I seriously drenched myself in physical literary loveliness.

It was like a binge on word-love. It was a healthy, hearty binge yet it was a binge nonetheless.

I texted a friend in Bakersfield, “This is ridiculous. I am driving past small town after small town of wonderfulness.”

This comment was from someone who loves the urban lifestyle and has adapted to the Bakersfield way of life as well. Small towns – village or hamlet style – are not my usual favorite.

What can be said by just happening by the birthplace of WEB Du Bois, Susan B. Anthony, and Edith Wharton’s summer home all in an afternoon? For reference – we are talking about the founder of the NAACP, a legendary suffragette and a Pulitzer Prize writer who was at the forefront of the literary scene during the gilded age of America.

I return to Bakersfield and as I drove my daughter to school this morning, came upon this bouquet of shopping carts. I looked out the window of my car and said, “Look, look at all the colors! Oh, this is a photo that wants to be taken!” The early morning light drenched the gossiping shopping carts with showers of new beginnings.

I see it as a different sort of literary loveliness.

Who am I to judge the value of The Mount or a tidy Victorian home on Great Barrington, Massachusetts with a shanty town of shopping carts, surrounding a cracked mirror and overgrown grasses?

Both and all are poetry, simply different flavors and available to be seen only by the eyes who are ready to see them.

Frankly, I found Edith Wharton’s Mount to be pretentious and boorish. The pet cemetery was charming but oh, the social good that could be done with such abundance – given the right administrator, perhaps. I enjoyed the more modest home of WEB DuBois as well as another home I visited last week, one which belonged to Harriet Beecher Stowe.

I mean to leave you with one noticing, however, rather than a listing of places I have been recently.

There is poetry in all of it.

There is poetry in the arrangement of trash, in the remains from today’s poverty, homelessness and drug addiction.

There is poetry in conspicuous consumption.

There is poetry on wide open country lanes and crowded, multilingual neighborhoods.

Our eyes and our ears and our observations – and the opinions we bring to the page that make the difference.

What poetry are you experiencing today?

If nothing comes to your awareness, look differently.

Poetry may be in the glasses beside the keyboard, the coffee mug, the barking dog, the lace curtains.

There is poetry in all of it.

This post is Number 13 of 30 and was inspired by the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I fell behind due to my travels and am hoping hoping hoping to catch up. Please give me some extra TLC via commenting, etc - as I will need it as I write write write for the next week or so!

Throughout the month I will be posting writing and creativity tips especially to make your writing (and your writing experience!) better.

I'm so glad you are here!

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How a Simple Question from an Unexpected World Changer Transformed Me

This post came from a prompt from the folks at the Scintilla Project. I opened my email, read the prompt and started writing. I didn't move, I didn't refill my coffee cup, I didn't think. I just wrote. I knew this story needed to be told more than anything else right now, except silent gratitude to the birds singing out my window and the incredible privilege it is to share our stories with each other.

It was like many other nights before it as I drove through the line at McDonald’s, getting an iced tea for Emma and fries for Samuel. Over my shoulder I heard a voice say, “Excuse me, Ma’am?” and over his next phrase I layered, “Sorry, I don’t have anything extra right now,” so I couldn’t even hear his request.

Something different happened though: I looked up and into the eyes of this person asking for spare change. He was a kid. Just a kid. He shook his head and said, “Ok,

This photo is not my friend, but similar in age and clothing. Photo via Creative Commons Licence courtesy of Elvert Barnes

sorry to bother you, Ma’am” and turned, taking his Kennedy-family-esque blue eyes and fair skin with him.

 

My eyes burned with salty tears forming a curtain across them. My face burned with shame about my for too long unconscious automatic response, “Sorry, I don’t have anything extra right now” may be true and yet, just because I’m paying with a card doesn’t mean I couldn’t buy an extra burger or something for this young man who looked like the boys who graduated high school with my daughter several years ago.

I got my children’s snacks and parked my car instead of rolling it away like I normally would have done, quickly wiping my consciousness of homeless people which have gotten to be like regulars in my mind. There’s the guy who sits by that church with his dog. There’s the woman who smokes while she panhandles. There’s the “skater” homeless guy.

I waved the blue-eyed boy over. I pressed a dollar fifty in his hand. “Where is your mother?” I asked him.

“She’s in Isabella,” he responded, which I knew to be a town about 40 miles away on the other side of the Kern Canyon. It is a small, somewhat isolated city who calls itself, “California’s Best Kept Secret.”

I paused and said, “Does she know where you are?” He put his head down and nodded. I went on to ask about siblings and discovered his sister was still at home and his brother was with him, in Bakersfield, which I took to mean they were homeless together. He also told me quite freely where they lived now.

My incredulity overcame my usual polite behavior when I asked “What happened?” I heard a story that is probably not all that uncommon. The stepfather beats the Mom. The sons attempt to come to her rescue and get into it with the stepfather. I imagine the local authorities know the family. The Stepdad gives his battered wife an ultimatum, “It’s them or me.”

The mother chose her abuser and sent her sons away. They had been living here for eight months now, he said. “How old are you?” I finally got the courage to ask.

“Twenty.”

Again, my politeness had evaporated and I heard a gasp escape from me. Twenty. My daughter turned twenty-one on Christmas Day.

I told him I wished I could give him more, but he understood and was grateful for the dollar and change I offered.

In that instant, my mind changed not only for my friend and his brother, but for the other homeless people had been slowly and surely turning invisible in my mind.

A few days later I saw the skater homeless guy. He was standing at the same spot with a can of tuna in his hand. “Excuse me, Ma’am, do you have a can opener I could use?” I said no, and asked him his name. Sure enough, he was the brother of my new young friend.

Again, I drove past and came back around, this time with a five dollar bill so he could go to a nearby store and buy a can opener.

Maybe the five dollars would end up elsewhere, but I wanted this kid – who is the same age as my daughter Marlena would be if she had lived – to know I was listening. Someone out here in the world had heard his request and honored it as best as she could.

I carry bags with food with me now. I offer them freely to people as I am out and about. I look them in the eye, smile and say, “I wish I had more for you” and for the first time, I truly mean it.

I have also continued to get to know these two brothers. I have discovered one is mentally ill, which doesn’t surprise me, and the other one has a primary purpose of watching out for him, to serve him, as a protector. It reminds me of my childhood protector status with my own brother who had Down’s Syndrome.

I have chosen to be a listener, a giver and a receiver to the homeless in my area who are not, for whatever reason, currently served by the homeless shelters or other agencies. This never wouldn’t have happened if for I hadn’t taken the extra moment to glance up. It was then I looked into the boys eyes and saw  the reflection of both my own eyes and the entire world’s eyes in his.

I have always believed real world change doesn't happen because of government programs, it happens in the hearts of people communicating with each other. My new friendship is a contribution to world change on the smallest level.

What would happen if we all chose to be more aware and looked beyond helping at the level of institutions - if we are comfortable with that - or helping in agencies and looking at these folks in the eye and hearing what they say and who they are and sharing yourself back with them.

Be on the lookout for your micro-world-change assignment today. It's almost as if this simple blog post is a doorbell on your heart, ringing.

This post was inspired by the folks at Scintilla13 - Here's what they have to tell us:

We believe that who we are is informed by our stories. Here, we want to offer you a space to introduce yourself, and a guide to share your history and make some connections along the way. We’ll be offering daily prompts for two weeks beginning on March 13th.

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© 2013 by Julie Jordan Scott

Writing with Emily: for the Most Creative of You Creative Folks

I bet the very creative among you will recognize yourselves in my words today.

I can’t even tell you how often this happens to me:  the car behind me honks to startle me awake from solving all the world’s problems or writing my shopping list or deciphering last night’s dream.  Does this ever happen to you? Sometimes I am thinking about how to help my children lead their best lives or what I will cook for dinner or trying to remember the details of a story from long ago.

My mind leaps from thought to thought to thought and all of a sudden  the car behind me honks, frustrated because I didn’t leap to go through the intersection because the light just barely turned green.

Actually, in these cases I have no idea how long the light has been green because I am too lost in reverie about whatever is happily holding my thoughts so attentively.

Last night on the way home from an event at the Art and Spirituality Center where I created from a whole new-to-me version of Hansel and Gretl, I wondered how Emily Dickinson might write a poem about a particular intersection here in Bakersfield.

I sat in my car, looking at a street light. I thought, “How would Emily Dickinson see this seedy neighborhood with this high powered street lamp?”

I was having so much fun I almost didn’t see the traffic light turn green.

Are you ready to experience the darkness on a Bakersfield street corner with Emily Dickinson and me?

Street Light, Corner of 21^st and Union

Electric orb

Sharing luminousness with the

Members of the pearly ancient profession

And the shaking, tittering loose toothed

Hungry for the next, next, next….

As well as the cars who have lost

Their way and landed

Underneath you

# # #

Think about one of your favorite characters: fictional, historical, literary, and consider what might happen how they might experience your life through you. Then write as that you-Emily Dickinson character or You-Cat character or You-Green Lantern character.

Whatever it is, whichever or whoever combines with you – have fun and write it.

Just beware of when the light turns green. The car behind you might honk to startle you awake from your poetic word play.

Here I am, writing on the Lawn at Emily Dickinson's House in Amherst, Massachusetts

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© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

 

Thankvember Day 14: Today I am Grateful to Live so Close to Bakersfield's Bluffs

I am grateful to live so close to the Bluffs here in Bakersfield. Three blocks from my house the road ends and opens up into them. They seem like they wait for me and applaud whenever I arrive.

Yes, Bakersfield gets a bad rap. Some of it is accurate, I will admit. There are days when I want to kick myself for still calling this place home, but this morning as I sat on the wet grass on the bluffs taking photos for Art Every Day month, I was reminded how much I love this part of Bakersfield.

My neighborhood actually has hills.

It isn’t entirely flat.

The bluffs tower above all that Black Gold that runs underground here in Bakersfield so the view is sort of… well, it isn’t the ocean or the view from the top of a mountain in neighboring Sequoia, but at night you can enjoy looking at the lights on the oil rigs blink and it is quite pretty.

The bluffs have a walking path and a second, more rugged path I usually take.

It’s a great place to meet people for walking or talking or taking in the sunset.

About ten years they took this plain Jane park and decided to get fancy schmantzy with landscaping and much of that has been reclaimed by wild growth, but some aspects of it remain.

I have many fun memories with my dogs, my kids and myself – I have been known to go their when I’m sad or need some quiet, contemplative time or when I have no idea what I want. Sitting at the far west side of the bluffs tends to calm my spirit. I have even met coaching clients there as we worked through whatever they needed to work through.

I am grateful to live so close to the bluffs here in Bakersfield.

What are you grateful for today?

 

 

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Do you have a lot of stuff to get done but can never seem to find the motivation? We have a solution - Get stuff done while having lots of fun at Passion Activator Friday - November 16, 2012 Check it out! 

This post is a part of the Thankvember Blog Hop Hosted by the Vagabons Studio. Click here or at the box --> to get involved.

© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

 

 

Just a Glimpse of How My Friends Show What It Takes to Be Exceptional Friends

Today’s Autumn Blog Challenge Prompt – Perfect! Sept 26-How to be a good friend

I saw this prompt and a quiet smile crossed my face.

This week has been so abundant in good friends. Love personified crossed my path over and over and over again and now, I have a heart shaped scar to prove it. One of my friends saw my scar last night and said, “Who else would get a scar shaped like a heart but you? It is absolutely perfect!”

I was diagnosed with melanoma two weeks ago.

Last week, it was carefully removed from my face in the very able hands of a surgeon.

With my friends I formed “Team Nora” (the name I gave my melanoma) with each member of the team contributing to both my care but also the care and feeding of my children.

Here is a list of some of the ways they were not only good friends, but exactly what I needed… in no particular order.

1. They did my MomSchlep for me. They swooped in to pick up both Emma and Samuel and sometimes provided them after school love-and-care both during my surgery but also after my surgery when I was recovering.  Without complaint. This is my least favorite Mom duty and I was so grateful to be able to let it go.
2. They fed me. Late on Thursday night, I was cooked a feast of scrambled eggs and brussel sprouts. It was the most delectable meal I had eaten in the past decade. Well, at least in that moment. The primary ingredient? Love. I had homemade soup and challah bread delivered to me. Food Love says so much to an aching body.
3. They read me poetry because it was what I wanted.
4. They sat with me, quietly, while I slept.
5. They read my aftercare instructions and nagged me to stick with them.
6. They helped me with wound care.
7. They thought of me before anything or anyone else.
8. They took me on rides and understood when just driving around town wore me out, much more than I ever imagined.
9. Instead of saying “Let me know what I can do for you,” they offered suggestions. When I am sick or having a hard time, half the time I have no idea what I want.
10. They sat and waited while I had surgery and talked to the doctor on my behalf. Can you imagine? PLUS they attended and will attend follow up appointments so that I don’t miss anything. Sometimes when you are the patient it is hard to “get” everything. I am usually the advocate. It is beyond words wonderful to have people stand by me in advocacy.
11. Distant friends prayed. And added me to prayer lists. They sent good vibes, healing energy and one friend did distance Reiki for me and even though I don’t exactly know what that means, I am grateful to the generous outpouring.
12. Love overflowed. Bountifully. And continues to flow. I am blessed by people who are being SUCH good friends! 

Have you been looking for a poetry writing challenge created within a community of poets whose goal is to encourage, inspire and share thoughts with one another? Join me at  OctPoWriMo Now - only days before we begin... and a bunch of tips are on the website now to get you started!

For the Writers Among Up...A Quick Visit to the Archives:

Summer Blog Challenge: --Share a post you've written in the past that you like.I rediscovered this blog post by going back 14 pages of lists of posts and happening upon these words.

Still so relevant and at the front of my mind all the time, a blog post about Sara Teasdale, listening to your wisdom, and how to continue moving when you just don't feel like it!

 

Home: a Woman's Sphere Post Still highly relevant today.

Behind the Scenes: Donut Sandwiches, Birthing Doctors, Bottled Water & Plentiful Creativity

Preface: You might remember my dear friend and castmate, Michelle Moreno. I wrote about her passion for succulents a while back. (Read that post here.) She sent me this photo this morning. She said she had a vision for it and for me. She wanted me to use it as a prompt so naturally, I did. What you see here is the result of Michelle's art creating more art. Love it! Love her! Love being backstage again!

There is a certain mythology to the dressing room, one which people inquire about or my readers enjoy reading about, so they tell me. To this community theater actor, dressing rooms can be quite a haven, quite a sanctuary, quite a place of creativity as we prepare and then wait to take the stage.

In this photo I may be seen, forever in time, catching up on facebook on June 20, 2012, as I wait.

I am not socializing on facebook mind you, I am doing business networking.  I am feeling a renewed love for the business side of what I do, so I am capitalizing on my business romancing while also nurturing my more conventional creative side.

You can see I am dressed to go on, Michelle has prettified my hair. My scene is still about forty minutes away.

Keeping me company while I wait I have a book of Laurence Ferlinghetti poetry, some throat lozenges for my nagging cough, a huge tome of a book underneath the poems titled Mad Woman in the Attic and under that – in red – is my script. Michelle and I did our usual line running shortly after she took this shot.

She didn’t happen to capture me as I wrote snippets for future poems made up of the verbal action in the dressing room. That may have been my single most fun activity of all last night while waiting.

This is primarily a transcript of what my castmates were saying as I sat, invisibly, in my little corner.

I like taking pictures
I had their donut sandwich
It was pretty good
They put American cheese on it
Anybody else?
Scene change random straight wait a minute
You should play my birthing doctor
Different accents anyway
Scotts scotts scotts the lower I go
The worse it gets
They say the don't have to match
Why did you think that?
Its comfy and ready for bed
Bottled water opens on one, two, three
Then another one, two, three and another
Think about what you did
And its five, again,
Character development as long
As its sexy vampires they don't care
Can I call you after I die?
It should be twenty minutes or so
Is that the shirt you're wearing?
Do you want to....
Yeah! Outside? Now or do you need
To wait ~

With that, Michelle and I left the dressing room. Time to run lines and be sure we are ready to be out there, on stage, performing in a way that is pleasing to the future audiences, our director, ourselves and I always have the playwright in the center of my heart and intention when I take the stage.

Then we get to do it all again tomorrow. That makes me smile.

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© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.

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#SummerBlogChallenge Day 20 ~ Favorite Little -Julie Photo. (I Cheated and Posted Two!)

Today's prompt from my friends at the Summer Blog Challenge is a great one. We are all asked to post a favorite photo of us as a young child….

I can’t only post one. I’m sorry.

Today, I am going to post two – my favorite of me with another person and my current favorite of me all by myself.

The me with someone else is my brother John and Me when we were somewhere around nine months and not-quite-two years old. We were thirteen months apart and always very close in every way.

I loved my brother with a ferocity I sometimes see in my own children.

I wrote about him last Sunday when I spoke about planning and facilitating his Celebration of Life after he died.

The one of me alone is one I only recently found.

I love it because of my posture – so upright and so proud – and the way the hat actually fits my head. I have a ginormous head so finding a cute hat that fits is sometimes quite a challenge.

Now, dear Summer Blog Challenge friends, I can’t wait to see your photos!

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© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.

Did you enjoyed this essay? Receive emails directly to your inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -

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#SummerBlogChallenge Day 19: Woot Woot. Tell me: What are 3 Things You Are Proud of from the Last Few Days?

I love prompts that ask us to look right in the near past rather than from a long, long time ago. I enjoy walks down my memory, but oftentimes I don’t give myself credit for the right now… so with that…join me and consider what three things YOU are proud about from the past few days?

Three things I am proud of from the last few days:

1. I ran two successful Writing Camps at Bakersfield College’s Delano Campus. The students wrote haiku, freewrote, learned about Rainer Rilke, Alice Walker, Laura Esquivel. We practiced writing in Objective and Meaningful language. There was a lot of interaction and fun was had by (almost!) everyone. Yes, guy in the second row, I saw you dozing off. I forgive you! I have to admit, sleeping students DO make me kick my game up a notch. I am proud I did.
2. I attended (and enjoyed!) a SoulCollage workshop. I had been resisting for months because I had tried the process on my own. I didn’t get what all the fuss was about. Naturally I loved it. I created a whole bunch of cards and plan to go for Open Studio to make more. I got over my resistance and created some great art. Yay!
3. I didn’t lose my temper once, even when there were a couple ripe situations for me to do so. This is definitely something to be proud about, especially when a tired Samuel did typical tired Samuel behaviors. :~)

So – Beloveds! Tell me three things you are proud of from the last few days.

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© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.

Did you enjoy this essay? Receive emails directly to your inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -

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