The 'walks' of my mind!
Many things walk through my mind; it changes with the choice of time. For instance, during the day, I tend to write with a conscious eye, with a temperance toward word choices, almost as if I've an invisible watcher editing my thoughts before they find print; now, night time offers a different stage for my writing, I feel the mellowing of my words, my fingers fly across the keyboard with the courage of a Delilah, and thoughts sing a purer truth as the cover of darkness cheers me on. It seems most problems find an answer with only the light of the monitor in front of me. The darkness of the room lets my imagination have a free hand, no censoring of ideas, or judgment sitting on my shoulder.
The 'Memory Chair' -
"This...sitting around the fire," Wa`si said, "reminds me of my father and his friends. They would sit around the campfire gathering up its energy and before long there would be sharing time. The one designated to talk held the 'memory chair' until his story ended." He paused, as though his story mimicked the moment as the fire's strength entered into him, giving his words newly found power. "When I reached manhood, at sixteen, I was allowed to sit with the group. It was from these stories passed around from the one in the 'memory chair' that I learned the meaning of honor, and the importance of everything relative to what's around us. Best of all, I was taught that a strong man can show meekness without being weak...and shed tears without feeling shame....
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Thoughts on Researching for TLNM
I knew research was a must before I could get deep into my story; I had to place myself mentally and physically in the mountains I was about to write about. I also knew I had to reconnect to my roots that up to now had little influence on me, in fact, only a spattering knowledge that a link actually existed. As I stepped into that spiritual and native leanings, I felt them settle over me with a pull of ownership. I took no pictures, only wrote in haste, as though my time was being clocked and at some unseen moment, everything would shut down. I filled several notebooks, hoping my words were adequate in what my eyes were seeing and what my ears heard. I went back to the motel reluctantly at night, clutching my pads of words like a hard-won prize. My book progressed with each trip taken. And the pictures, I had little time to snap, are there in my book, but in word phrases...I hope your mind sees them, smells them, and then remembers them....