Expedition

This journey is unlike anything I could’ve imagined ( good thing this whole thing isn’t my daydream). Because I didn’t think I had it in me, this thing that everyone else saw in me. This thing that earned me the honor of teaching twenty-two blossoming minds.

I was only substituting for about a month and a half before this kindergarten class was tossed into my lap.

I’m considered a long-term substitute; these babies are mine for the rest of the year. I don’t have a teaching certification. My BA didn’t have anything to do with education. I didn’t even want this responsibility. But anyone who is a writer knows about the call to adventure, when the protagonist’s world turns upside down, random people start coming out of no where and the protagonists begins to learn things they wouldn’t have thought to ask about.

And it’s funny because when I prayed, all I asked for was a little push in the right direction. I want to teach college level one day and all I wanted was to be shown the way…

And I think I’ve hit that first conflict. I haven’t been able to write or read or do anything like that for me. I wasn’t able to finish the first draft of my novel for Nanowrimo and I’m only six chapters away. Honestly, I’m crying on the inside, trying to figure out what’s going to come next because I know where my heart really lies; it’s in my writing.

I don’t know where I’m going with this – with this career shift or this blog post. I guess this is me just trying to figure it out, coming to terms with what I’ve asked for.

It just feels strange, knowing that I was heard.

And answered so swiftly.

What does this mean?

– B. Brown

(art by Randall David Tipton: Logjam)

Today is the day…

I start my Poetry Fundamentals class. I’ve reviewed my readings (which is a crap ton of poems by poets with funny names) and my assignments: analyzing object and list poems and discussing them with my fellow classmates.

And I have two poems due by Sunday for my portfolio.

I’m excited.

I’m nervous.

But I’m hell bent at becoming a refined poet so I’m hungry for this knowledge,

Ready for this challenge.

Alsooooooooo….

My first day of substituting is this Wednesday.

I’m excited.

I’m nervous.

But there’s this woman in my dreams who I aspire to be. She’s been teaching for years, has numerous publications under her belt and has a consisting posting schedule for her website.

These are just some of the steps I’m taking to get to her.

It’s been a while since I’ve been able to feel like I’m in the right place at the right time with the right people.

I’m on my way.

– B. Brown

My Pardon

I leave

my dark work

to karma,

your blows will

only produce poetry

after I’ve turned

the other cheek,

uplifting me

-B. Brown

(art courtesy of Pinterest, but if anyone knows the artist, please enlightenment me because I love this style)

 

This is for You

I woke up sensing

how hard this really is for you,

you had to take an extra five to get out of bed

took three expresso shots instead of two

you almost cried

after spending ten minutes just staring at the screen

fiddling your pen and flipping through notebook pages

you couldn’t get it out, could you?

afraid it would be still born,

afraid it’d be malformed

certain this wasn’t how it was supposed to be done

so that brought you here,

to me

so I can tell you

there’s no right wrong way to do this

there’s only your way

so take an extra hour if you need to

whip it up with no lid if you have to

just don’t forget

that everything that comes from you

is of value

just put something down

anything of you will do

I promise it will

now just will yourself

to follow through

– B. Brown

P.S. please don’t quit on us. we need you

(art courtesy of Pinterest)

 

Nervous

I’m learning what all these lines and buttons mean. This is a whole new language. Pray for me, y’all haha. I’ve been practicing spoken word and its been difficult to develop my voice but I tell myself I can only get better if I keep at it. Hopefully, I can post this audio today, provided I don’t make my computer combust in sparks and flames. I’m excited and scared to hear your feedback honestly haha but you all have been very real and respectful with your critique and lawd knows I need that now more than ever haha stay tuned, homies!

It’s Time

nothing but heaven
where she once thought
there would be doom
after leaping
from a weeping chrysalis
upon first gasp of morning
for letting the tears congeal
thereafter hands peel
and unfold bones
fixated for so long
via breaking tendons
following lungs expanding
eyes opening
awareness
there is something
out there

I cannot live here

– B. Brown

(art: Unexpected Change by Doris Tesarkova Oplova)

Mood: How Could You?

Have you ever gotten some harsh feedback? It’s like the other person is putting a hex on you. Like they’re grabbing you by the scruff and rubbing your nose in your messy work. But don’t keep your tail between your legs for too long. Allow yourself room for growth. If your muse is telling you their critique is irrelevant, then move on and keep creating. If there’s some truth to their words, accept it and learn from it. It’s paying the price of betterment. Either way, you’ll come out on top.

– B. Brown

3 Quick Writing Tips

1. Find your witching hour. What time of day or night are you most open and honest with yourself? When is your brain is most cooperative and your heart most willing to spill the beans? You have a rhythm that is deeply influenced by the rest of the universe, I promise. You have low and high points. Steady and sporadic beats. Perigees and apogees. Pay attention to yourself and you’ll realize your peak times.

2. Find your totem. And it doesn’t necessarily need to be a silver spinning top like DiCaprio’s. Just something tangible that you can hold that’ll help you tap into deeper areas of yourself, something that triggers or soothes the way you need it to, no matter what, something that will help center you where you need to be, no matter what; an anchor. It helps. I have a little rose-quartz elephant that aids me emotionally.

3. Fix your social media diet. Have you ever felt weighed down by your social media feeds? There’s always that one person who puts out nothing but negative remarks. Or how about those six major news channels that report how tragically the world is burning – in high definition? Is there too much violence, sadness or death in your feeds? That shit effects your flow, I’m so not sorry to say. Broaden your horizons. Expose yourself to the better parts of this world that still remain. Change your diet and fill your feed with affirmations, kittens and beautiful people doing beautiful things. It’ll raise your frequency. Don’t be distracted by the evil. No, no, Satan, not today!

I hope I’ve helped some. It took me a long time to learn these things and I’ve grown from them tremendously. And if you guys have any tips you’d like to share, lay them on me.

– B. Brown

(book sculpture by British artist Bronia Sawyer)

Cast the Ancient Spells…

My mother’s hand would clasp around mine, grasping the pencil, tracing the letters, I learned the art of word structure through my mother’s insistence. And her persistence was critical, for reasons I did not know until I found myself craving the crisp landscape of paper, with an ink pen as my wand, I drafted spells in countless of journals.

Some of my best, some of my most raw, some of my most pivotal writing was cast during school, during church, during bedtime in a dollar store notebook, a brand new text book, a long awaiting napkin

oh, the magic that I created with these phalanges.

Something happens when we put pencil to paper, it’s our flame to our cigarette, our blunt and our spoons. And when we’re riding that high… oh man, you know what I mean?

I mean, we can get high too from stroking the keys, clicking away, upping the word count, page numbers, justifying that our alignments are edged to percision, uploadin’ that bih, showing the world that you ain’t plannin’ on quittin’…

 

but if I may,

I have to remind you,

um, isn’t there something that you’re forgettin’?

 

Can you remember when that bright idea blossomed in our brains

and we made our marks, carved with rocks, chalks, and calk

got pretty name merry with juicy berries to brighten our bearings

remember that first line, that first shape, that first grouping

that first structure

the first spell we cast?

that spell that seeded language

the spell that promoted pensiveness,

the spell that bound all of us as one

the spell that captures our entire existence

 

and it’s persistence

is always incentive

because it is embroidered

somewhere very deep, somewhere very sacred,

somewhere very ancient, something very primal

under the veils of our minds

that spark us upon arrival

 

when we spell cast with our hands,

these magical phalanges of ours,

that activate significant

concentrates

of our human nature,

of our human drive

of our human souls

from our literary roots

that have come to grow

 

so I thought I’d let you know

that maybe it’s time to take a chance

and envelope yourself

in a primordial trance

and embrace the tracing,

the sculpting

the religious imprinting

of our reality of existence,

put that pencil to paper

remember what it is

to be human again…

-B. Brown

 

Thank you for reading 🙂 If you’ve been spending so much time behind the screen, trying to figure out what to write, when to write, how to write, then maybe it’s time to revert back to more basic measures. Our brains act differently when we write, pencil in hand, versus when we type, tap dancing with our fingers. You can reach different areas of your mind because the action is so deeply embedded in our kind. Don’t be afraid to shake off these contemporary measures and get back to your roots. And it’s probably a good idea to develop a healthy balance between the two, alternate. I hope this post helps. Have a beautiful day 🙂

 

(http://www.educationnews.org/technology/research-handwriting-spurs-brain-activity-typing-doesnt/)