Living Life Twice

This week I found myself closely re-examining the content gathered across the pages of my writer's notebooks all these years. I was focused on the kinds of collected items that had gathered upon the pages. Certainly a multitude of my own words and thoughts. However, there were also the words of other writers nestled along side my own words. It lead me to thinking about what I have seen in a multitude of kids notebooks across the last 20 years or so.  What struck me as significant, was the noticeable absence of words gathered from potential writing mentors. These young writers appear to have been left out of the loop when it comes to the treasure awaiting them in the very books they read, as well as those read to them, -treasure their eyes, their minds, overlook almost daily. Nobody rang the alarm alerting them to these collectible word treasures. They don't read like writers and that's such a shame... I am a frequent gatherer of words I wish I had written. Words from fellow...

 I ‘ve Got That Covered      I’m currently on the lookout for a larger container in which to store my ever expanding collection of writer’s notebooks. Tomorrow I will begin the search in earnest by visiting some antique stores in the hope of finding a suitable container. I want something that has character. It must also be sturdy like a chest-a wooden chest perhaps.      I have notebooks stacked around my study at present and recently I have been pondering their characteristics -their design and size. My notebooks compiled across almost forty years are many and varied. Lined and unlined. Thick and thin. Large and small. A recent notebook was made from pulverized rock, not paper. It was appreciably heavier and the pages had a smoothness that reminded me of plastic surfaces. It provided a unique writing experience.        When it comes to covers on those notebooks the uniqueness of each notebook is immediately drawn into sharp focus. ...

 I have been rehearsing this all day...      In fact, I have been rehearsing this for a few days. The events of Christmas no doubt have prompted my thoughts. I recalled a discussion I once had with a group of teachers during a workshop I was presenting. We were discussing the need for writers to rehearse their words before assigning them to the page and this prompted Dan, a young teacher to make a rather insightful comment without notice...        ‘I rehearse before I write on a greeting card.’      Everyone stopped to consider Dan’s words. He had reminded us of the conscious rehearsal frequently undertaken when we are faced with filling out cards on special occasions.      ‘I rehearse the words in my head to make sure they sound right.’ Dan further explained. Another teacher added, ‘ I actually practice what I want to write on the card, on another piece of paper, including, Dear Whoever.’      Someone ...

  Under the present lockdown rules in the greater Melbourne area, we, the people are allowed two one hour recreation/exercise times beyond our dwellings. Such activities must occur within a five kilometre radius of your home address. Face masks are mandatory.  No problem. I take my walk early most days to avoid the inevitable casual wanderers and path cloggers. I like a vigorous walk. I use the time to clear my head, sort out my plans for the day and to observe the world just in case an idea presents itself. I want to be ready to receive it. I am further soothed by my sonic cocoon. Music and movement set me on my way. Most of my morning walks present as a form of splendid isolation, where not much in the way of uneventful things happen... That was until yesterday- About thirty minutes into my walk serenity began to evaporate. Without warning I found myself being dive-bombed by an agitated Noisy Myna Bird. Being dived once is annoying. Three times is totally unsettling. I was g...

For this slice of life story I didn't have to look any further than my left hand. I was holding the idea right there -and my deeper thoughts followed. In my current lockdown life, such thoughts are thankfully continuing to present themselves for consideration. Contemplation in isolation. I am pen particular.   My pen of choice is a   Uniball Gel Impact   pen with black ink. Always black ink. Must be black ink.    It is the pen I mostly choose when writing. It feels comfortable in my hand. When I am writing with this pen, words seem to flow more easily. They effortlessly spill across the page. I actually feel like I am speed writing. Being left handed, this continues to be my most glorious delusion. I also have a Lamy fountain pen which also uses black ink cartridges. I do like writing with this pen too. It has become accustomed to my left handedness. I would never a let a right hander use it. Call me fussy. It won’t change my thinking on pen sharing. Not for me ...

When times are tough we often gain some degree of pleasure from indulging in seemingly small pleasures...  As my home state of Victoria endures another week of stage 4 Covid lockdown, mask wearing is compulsory in public areas and you can only leave your home for work, food shopping. a medical appointment / emergency, or care giving, it means we must find solace is things pertaining to our place of residence and its surrounds. There is also a curfew in place, meaning we must be inside our dwellings by 8.00 pm each night. We are allowed to leave our houses for up to an hour per day for exercise, but we must remain within five kms of home at all times. The situation will be reviewed on September 13 and if the numbers warrant, there will be some small loosening of the health guidelines. I am happy to comply with this because it is clearly for the greater good of the community. The daily infection rate has fallen from a daily high of 700, to 70 cases today. The majority of my fellow Vi...

Woke up this morning, I was feeling quite weird, had flies in my beard, my tooth paste was smeared - well not really. They're actually lyrics from an old song 'Mr Spaceman,' by The Byrds that had formed an earworm in my head as I began writing this...  I actually woke with an idea for sharing poetry with my neighbours. So I set about creating what I'm calling 'The Poet Tree Project.' I am trying to deal with my current lockdown life by responding positively and creatively.  I have long held the view that poetry possesses a capacity to be healing and transformative, particularly in stressful times. It frequently performs a gentle dance around our emotions engaging them and soothing the soul. It remains one of poetry's many gifts to both the writer and the reader. There's an old, gnarled eucalypt tree outside my back gate and I thought it would make a perfect partner in my quest to share some poetry in this time of Covid 19. I can see the tree clearly from...

  Fragments of Song and Lingering Lyrics  I took a moment to view a You-Tube video of a concert held on the forecourt of the iconic Sydney Opera House in 2016 and at one stage the camera panned out from the stage and onto the vast audience assembled in that great open space.  Breasting the stage, the audience smiled, waved and danced their way through a collection of treasured songs from the legendary 'Crowded House.' They sang every word of every song loudly and proudly. Judging by their appearance, their ages seemed to predominantly range from 18-35 years old. Anyway, they were younger than me, without doubt. As I watched, my thoughts turned to a time in my life when I truly believed I knew the words to- all the words, to all the songs. Well, not all the songs, but certainly all the popular songs of that time. I took quite some pride in being able to recall lyrics with such consummate ease. It seemed to come so naturally. I listened. I remembered. I recalled. Many of us...

It is difficult to avoid the contrarian views that have arisen around how we must deal with this global pandemic. I have become increasingly unsettled by the calls to rise up and not adhere to the advice offered by scientific and medical experts. Claiming lost freedom and imposition of tyranny, or worse still, that what we are experiencing is in fact a giant conspiracy -or even worse,  a hoax! leaves me in chin scratching bewilderment.  The mask evaders have set themselves on a course to show the world their contempt for their fellow citizens.They won't say that of course, but their actions leave the rest of us in no doubt. Would they be happy if operating surgeons went about their critical work, mask optional? Should hand washing in food services, cafes and restaurants also be optional? There are so many aspects of life where we accept life and health protection laws, mandates and work safe practices without question. This matter of masks is not a hill upon which to make a st...

In my home state of Victoria, Australia, we have returned to stage 3 lockdown conditions due to a resurgence of Covid cases in the last three weeks. I have been consciously using this home time productively as I continue my journey trawling through old notebooks.  After almost 40 years, I have a plentiful supply of notebooks from which to mine potential treasure and hidden gems. As most of us appreciate, conversation with family and friends remains important. More so right now. This prompted me to gather some conversations and dialogue captured across my notebooks. I am a practiced eavesdropper. I sit, I listen, I note.  Learning to capture authentic conversation is a most valuable thing for any writer to develop. So, this morning I went gathering some examples of authentic exchanges and words overheard . Hope you like what I unearthed. I present it here for your consideration. ‘It’s ridiculous! Jeans in January. I don’t associate jeans with January. What’s happening?’ Cool su...

This morning as I raked and removed another carpet of discarded leaves thrashed, bashed and scattered by last night’s torrent of rain, a poem began to form in my head. The writing mind seldom rests... It further reminded me that so many of our writing ideas come calling when we are not actually engaged in writing. So there I was raking and rehearsing... Wintery Days Shadows And gathering clouds Raindrop on footpaths Spits and dollops Splashing Forming puddles and pools A season of heavy coats Scarves and gloves Sheltering Helter- Skeltering Miserable breezes Unforgiving winds Sniffles and sneezes Ah choo! Alan j Wright