Literary Imaginings by Lisa C. Taylor

>Autumn is a fickle season; the patchwork of leaves tempered by wind and rain. The storm last week scattered the leaves across my wooded yard and driveway. I want the leaves to hold on a little longer so that Geraldine can see them in their glory, painting the landscape with a riot of hue. The maples are crimson; birch is burnished gold. Yesterday we walked at Mansfield Dam; a walk I hope to be able to go on when my friend and collaborator on this collection of poetry, Geraldine Mills arrives. I want the winds to be soft as a breath so autumn will not give in so easily. It’s a good quality–not giving in to pressure. I teach it to teenagers and try to practice it in my daily life. Finding my own truth is not the same as following the proported truth of others. We all have a path that makes us feel most at home, most productive.

Barack Obama won the Nobel Prize for Peace which caused some to celebrate, others to be angry because he hasn’t yet proven himself. Don Williams, publisher of New Millennium Writings and an eloquent writer, said it better than I ever could but I think the gist of his writing was that Barack Obama thus far has been a unifier rather than a divider. He found a place in his administration for his chief rivals. He hosted a dinner for John McCain on the eve of his inauguration, and he invited both a gay bishop and a fundamentalist minister to his inauguration. He has made progress by coming to the table around issues of nuclear proliferation and our environmental challenges. The answers to the complex problems facing America and the world will never be solved by dividing us. The urge of some to invalidate everything he has done thus far is not useful. The Nobel Prize for Peace is an invitation to Barack Obama. It is a vote of confidence–go forward and do more. The world needs a visionary leader. America needs a president who is ethical and forthright. I believe the Nobel committee consciously cast their vote for a candidate who demonstrates unifying leadership and a vision of a more peaceful world. Will America get behind it?

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>The weather is unsettled today, going from thunder to balmy breezes within an hour. Now the evening chill has taken over and wind is shaking the autumn tinged leaves from the trees. Torrential rain kept me from walking this morning but I took this shot right before dusk when the weather suddenly turned mild. I’m trying to write work that matters and some days I’m not sure what is relevant in a constantly changing world. I try to teach the way I live, with eyes open and senses keen. There is much yet to discover. I love driving home under a canopy of brilliantly colored leaves. Today the branches were swaying as if to push me forward–go here. I have always liked extremes in weather because it shakes me out of complacency. I notice icicles hanging or snow swirling or today, a wild wind animating trees and strewing the ground with riotous leaf confetti.

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>I spent a charmed weekend at the Surdna Convocation in New York City. Meeting the other fellows was inspirational….trips to Haiti, Ghana, Brazil, China to teach, learn, explore. The other fellows represented schools crossing the United States–Los Angeles, New Orleans, Washington D.C., Mississippi, Alabama… A strong dedication to students and the arts was a common thread. Sometimes it feels as if I’m in a world that has forgotten beauty. Spending a weekend with dancers, visual artists, writers, actors, and musicians–all of whom believe that education in the arts isn’t an extracurricular activity but a necessity gave me new ideas and strengthened my own committment to nurturing young artists. How lucky I am to have had an opportunity to broaden my own artistic vision. Although I am not a city person, finding my inspiration in open space, mountains and seascapes, I was happy to be in the company of fellow artists. New York was bustling with life and light and the full moon and cloudless sky welcomed me home.

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>Last night the rains pummelled the roof. It reminded me of Ireland and the windy rain I often heard at night. Windows were open and the air smelled like autumn leaves. This morning I walked amid the fallen leaves, pulled prematurely from maple and oak by the rain. The light was phenomenal and only my camera can convey just how beautiful it was.

There is a winding set of stairs leading to my hilltop home. In the morning light, it seemed to stretch endlessly toward something it would never quite reach. Sometimes I feel that way when I am writing–as if I can visualize what I’m after but it is so hard to express with the limitation of language. Nevertheless, every once in a while I convey the nuance of light and seven shades of green so effortlessly displayed in front of me this morning.

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>I read an excerpt from James Wright to second graders today. Metaphor comes easier to young children than it does to teenagers and young adults. We learn to be concrete–just the facts. I asked them to describe what they saw on their bus ride–the leaves turning, falling, light across the road, animals. It was a joy to see their excitement about poetry. How do we lose that? I remember hating the line-by-line analysis that is so much a part of the study of poetry in high school. I like approaching a poem like I approach a painting or a piece of music–I just take it in, think about it, hang out with it for a while. If it touches me, I invite it back into my life again and again.

On my morning walk, the air was tangy and cool. I miss the wind and salt-sprayed air of Ireland. I do love the light here though–especially when it is filtering through trees just beginning to burst into color. Autumn is a time of gathering in–putting away sandals and tank tops and taking out sweaters and warm socks. I am making preparations to go into the darker space of winter.

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