Reading, Writing, & Arithmetic Club

She used to talk to me About her life Happily sometimes, Sometimes not Scenes from her inner landscape I would marvel at the delight she took In her own wordplay Watching her mouth and eyes dance The sounds in her words rising and falling Like shadows on the wall Never failing to enclose me But after that night I took her to the cafe To listen to the cellist Tell his sad stories with a reedy moan, To the un-syncopated rain, Her voice has gone, She speaks not to me. She has taken to leaving me scribbled clues Of her inescapable musings On random shreds of paper, Like breadcrumbs of thought And has me clinging For the lost embrace Of what she no longer says -LFB, 2010

 ". . . it’s not always easy to be comfortable in the space created by open questions. Agoraphobia can set in. It’s tempting to hide in small rooms built from quick answers."  I am prompted to write by this metaphor.  Agoraphobia can be disabling. The limitation of movement.  Consensus agrees this is generally considered a negative. However, we humans crave quick and uncomplicated answers. We seek the comfort of black and white, the solace of definitive solutions. We want them now. The quick and easy answers generally considered a positive. Yet, life rarely offers such neatly packaged resolutions. Instead, it throws us curveballs, presents us with riddles wrapped in enigmas, and leaves us standing amidst a kaleidoscope of uncertainties. Life gives us unsolvable conundrums. Sheldrake suggests that the easy answers may be disabling to us. Limiting.   To be true, we are afraid of getting lost in its infinite possibilities. But what if we embraced the discomfort? A favored virtue

Stories, it's all about the stories in life. In the vein of Lacuna and Here I Go Again is my own snapshot of stories: I wonder what happened to you  You wrote poems for me,  You were going to take me to  The Rocky Horror Picture Show  We were going to dress up  Your eyes turned green or blue,  Depending on your mood  I wonder what happened to you  Your name like beer  You wrote songs and played guitar  And gave me a dragon ring  Told me not to lick stamps, because you cared  We’d drive the abandoned streets and  You’d stop at green lights   I wonder what happened to you  I loved the cool tattoo you drew yourself  We’d haunt coffee shops in the city  You made me a plastic ring   From the coffee stir stick  Said we were married  We were not  I wonder what happened to you  You’d quote me Shakespeare and   We dress up for the renaissance fair  You painted me paintings  My favorite colors and yours  Your letters filled with cartoons  I still have them  I wonder what happened to you  MVP

 The following is a small part of a story of my life that I'm writing for my children. Since the name of our group is Reading Writing and Arithmetic Club, Lance and I have discussed that it's appropriate to put writings here, so here's some writing. Just for fun.  It's a period of a couple of years during the 60' s.      Even though that first year in Berkeley wasn't easy for me, it was endlessly fascinating. That was Berkeley in the 60s. When I arrived on the scene, organized student protests were already underway, and about to intensify. The Free Speech Movement had begun in October of 1964 with a massive student sit-in at the administration building, Sproul Hall. The students took over the building and refused to leave. A lengthy standoff ended with the students being hauled out of the building and arrested in a huge police action. Afterwards there was a continuing police presence on campus.      This was the norm when I arrived. There were protests and ralli

 Our latest book to read is: It would be great if we could be on the same page (pun intended) by all reading the same book although I understand this isn't alway possible.