No resolutions for 2023. If the past three years have taught us anything, it’s that nothing is certain. The joy of today can be quashed in a heartbeat by unanticipated, sometimes horrific reality. No, I have not abandoned my faith and Pollyanna approach to life; like you, I’ve just seen one reality-check after another in these days of Covid, inflation, RSV, flu, insane politics, wars everywhere, travel meltdowns, homelessness in ever-increasing numbers, devastating natural disasters… GASP! GASP! GASP!
What we have also seen is the generosity of one human toward another. Strength beyond imagining in people who lost homes and livelihood to fires and flood and war and more, people who, despite their own challenges, stepped in to help neighbors. We are not past the impact of devastation. Therein lies a whole other hill to climb and hopefully overcome. In the case of the Calf Canyon/Hermit’s Peak fire and subsequent flood, will insurance provide the means by which loss can be recovered? How or will FEMA help or hinder? What resources are available to get reliable answers?
Below is my end-of-the-year poem. It is intended to be hopeful and maybe a wee bit helpful as we head into 2023. And really, when you think about it, January 1 is just another day. Be at peace with yourself and others, day by day.
NEW YEAR’S EVE2022
There is reality in today, hope in tomorrow. Lean into the promise, rest in the certainty we live one day at a time as best we can. Let that be enough. Some days will be wonderful, some make us wonder – how will I survive and thrive? May the darkness of doubt flee before the rising sun of hope always on the horizon.
Unless otherwise indicated, all content on this site is created by me. I appreciate likes, shares, and comments.
Blue is the color of sadness. When the world seems gilded with a happy golden glow, some grieve others founder on the shoals of loneliness. Tragedy does not take a holiday. Take heart, there is hope. Someone cares. That is the story of the manger.
Unless otherwise indicated, all content on this site is created by me. I appreciate likes, shares, and comments.
Brown and gold, orange and yellow, signs of fall, oh, so mellow. In the pot beside the door, petunias flutter a magenta roar. With gladsome flaring these floral sisters accent with daring whimseys of change.
Unless otherwise indicated, all content on this site is created by me. I appreciate likes, shares, and comments.
Time, we believe we have so much when in truth time spools out like thread on a spindle weaving together with other threads creating a tapestry. Your thread, my thread, can break at any time. I pray to consider carefully the choices I make, the actions I take so the thread from my spool adds goodness to the tapestry of life before it breaks.
She stands in the middle of a war-torn street, Ukrainian flag in hand, angel wings over her puffy coat, donned for warmth, no protection against bullets and bombs. I weep for her innocence and pray for her protection.
Life is a quilt, one created over time, one square, one stitch placed just so over weeks, months, decades. Sometimes the stitches knot up, tangled in unexpected life events: death of a love one, divorce, too much of this too little of that. And then it smooths out when new bonds are made, babies are born, life goes on. The quilt spreads, covering the span of life, bringing comfort and protection. The quilt of life, the connectedness that bridges divides.
Christmas ornaments reflect light –
iridescent, glowing,
bringing joy,
lifting spirits,
and lighting faces
– young and old –
with smiles.
Like stars alight
in the swirling dark,
their colors shine sublime.
Thank you for being a reader/subscriber. It is my goal to present informative, interesting, and creative content on this site. Your likes, shares, and comments are welcomed. I am an indie author of six books and two chapbooks of poetry. Check the BOOKS tab to find out more. Follow me at www.vandermeerbooks.com, https://www.facebook.com/vandermeerbooks, Amazon Author Central. I frequently write about my town, Las Vegas, N.M.Occasionally I use interesting and helpful content from other sources. I also invite guest posts. If you have a topic you would like to share, send to fsvandermeer@gmail.com.
Poet Kathleen Lujan has carried her passion for the written word with her from childhood. It was where she focused her education and career trajectory.
Lujan has a Bachelor’s Degree in English and History, a Master’s Degree in American Studies (Southwest History and Literature) from NMHU, where she taught for four years. She also taught for 10 years at West Texas A&M University, where she received a Teaching Excellence Award in 1998-1990.
Lujan developed a writing and reading process called the ARQ (Active Reading Quest), which she presented at a seminar at the University of Edinburgh, Scotland and presented to teachers during two-day seminars in New Mexico. She taught Language Arts at Coronado High School for two years and then five years at Lybrook School as the project coordinator for literacy for Alaskan and Native American children.
She is an awarding-winning educator who has conducted studies and seminars in India, England, Scotland and Italy, and served as adjunct faculty for Navajo Technical University to teach AP composition class at Alamo Community. She has always made time for writing with a focus on poetry. Her recently release chap book of poetry, Puddles of Years, is available from the author. Email her at katlujan62@gmail.com for details.
Lujan will be the featured writer at a Zoom Las Vegas Literary Salon event on Sunday, Aug. 23, at 4 p.m. The Zoom link for the event is here.
Q: What writers did you enjoy reading as a child? Lujan: My father taught me to read at the age of five and I developed a passion for reading. I loved Greek and Roman Mythology. I had two red, cloth-bound books of mythology, which were at least five pounds apiece, and read them from front to back. I loved Homer, Hawthorne, Austen, Bronte, du Maurier, Dickinson, Keene… among so many others. I was a voracious reader. Even today, I usually have three novels going at the same time.
Q: Did you write as a child?
Lujan: I started writing poetry when I was about 12. I loved the rhythm and sounds of words and saying so much with so little.
Q: How did you get started as a poet?
Lujan: At age 12, because of Emily Dickinson and her lyric poem: Success.
Q: Do you find writing easy?
Lujan: The only time writing is easy is to be totally in the present moment and letting the words come; not forcing the words to appear. And that’s not easy!
Q: How did you manage to fit writing in with other demands on your time? Are you good at managing your time?
Lujan: Teaching, consulting, and traveling consumed large portions of my time, but I would always carry paper and a pen or find a napkin if a line or idea hit me in a restaurant, at a seminar, or during a class. I had pieces of candy bar wrappers and cocktail napkins that would have my scratches on them. I would empty out my purse on a Sunday, usually, and write poems from the lines I had scribbled down.
Q: Who are your favorite living poets?
Lujan: My absolute favorite poem is on my refrigerator door held up by a portrait magnet of Frida Kahlo. The Everlasting Self, by Tracy K. Smith. You can find it on poets.org.
PUDDLES OF YEARS
Q: How do you prepare yourself for writing?
Lujan: P.P.P. (Prior Proper Planning). I never know when an emotion or a tanager or a kiss will inspire a poem, so trying to always have pen, paper, or now, a phone, to jot down the initial true thought or feeling is essential.
Q: What do well-written poems have in common?
Lujan: I can only speak for myself and what calls me to read and reread what I believe is a well written poem. The “show me don’t tell me” aspect, a rhythm, which matches the image, idea, or emotion being expressed, and a required quiet to read and reread slowly to savor the words.
Q: Talk about your recently published chap book of poetry, Puddles of Years.
Lujan:Puddles of Years is a compilation of poems which have been previously published and written over a twenty-year period. My sister kept after me to publish, and after my sister died last September, I was encouraged to retire and do what she asked me to do: finish the chapbook. I also received, from my brother, a folder kept by my father of all the poems I had written since I was twelve. No one in the family knew about the folder, myself included, until Dad died. When my brother went through his desk, he found it. He sent it to me and encouraged me to keep writing and complete the chapbook. Thus, the dedication to my Dad. I suggest the reader read the poems, enjoy, and take with you the sublime experience of poetry!