Yesterday, I lost one of the abalone shell earrings I was gifted at PowWow. The earrings called to me from a table full of beautiful beadwork. They are simple, oblong, and pick up the glint of silver light. When I put them on, I realized why I love them. Perfect weight, each one feels a little bit different held between index finger and thumb. I find myself reaching for them as I write, as if I can squeeze the word I’m searching for from the ocean floor.
Golden, Glorious Words by Hannah Brophy
Words are like snowflakes. Each has qualities unique only to itself — the shape, the form, the intent, and the individuality. I love how a thought can be shaped by such subtle suggestions as font.
Words are glorious and golden when we can find them! And when we lose them? We struggle to make meaning; we have those almost-there thoughts on the tip of our tongue. We use too many to shovel ourselves out of misunderstandings. We wind them up and hurl them like bombs. We simplify the most complex feelings with the four-letter word, love which can feel hollow with overuse — or when precisely place it is infused with the divine.
The Sun by Richard D. Owens
I let her
guide my writing hand, the Sun
golden within as radiant immense
angled emanations
We time travel in language linking past generations to future ones. This week, I met a documentary filmmaker who interviewed the last ten Native speakers of an Indigenous language group in Mexico. We spoke about the technology of storytelling and the way we are tied to words. As languages become extinct, so do the very thought patterns inherent to those speakers. It seems words are the container.
The Vessel by R. Miranda
Language,
The vessel
Crossing Space
Time.
Newness in Curiosity! by Stressla Lynn Johnson
We write in real time to exist in all times, we are not threatened by the prospects of growth. As we nibble away at the lines of words served on the buffet table of our imaginations.
Words by Manny Cid
So yeah, once our thoughts become words
We can be with others, we create bonds
We can go anywhere, we can travel worlds.
So who do you want to talk to?
I arrived on the Oregon State Penitentiary activities floor on Wednesday wearing no earrings. Our first greeters on the floor are the Lakota Oyate-ki Club beaders. They work year-round with a table filled with seed beads making the next pile of gifts for visitors and family. As I lamented my loss, Timmy (an elder and beading teacher) puts aside his work and reminded me that what seems lost often comes back. He counsels patience. And I flashed on the constant series of lost and found items in my life. The clomping up and down the stairs, the slam of the door as I rush off to check the studio or frantically run my hand through each pocket of a jacket. I’m not a model of patience. I agree with him, that I will let it find me … though I must have seemed unconvinced. He reassured me: “You will find it.” And then, he said with a twinkle in his eye, “And if you don’t, I have it’s Brother.” | TDS
Great job on the theme by all the writers! May your lost earring find you again.