Poem: The Survivability of Brokenness

The Survivability of Brokenness

The small barn lies to one side,
functional, yet wobblyjawed
as if one last wind,
one blast of cold November air

could end it's life,
and reduce the hard built walls
to a smattering of brokeness,
wood, nails and glass in a pile,

good only for burning,
flames licking high
like a funeral pyre,
and yet

year after year, the barn stands,
a monument
to the survivability of brokenness,
to the patience of buildings and souls

to wait for a savior
with the love and patience,
and more, the vision
to see beyond the broken glass

and sunken foundation,
and willing to apply their love
to work, to time, to love
this old barn back to something more

than it once was,
not just a building,
but a testimony
to the power of perseverance.

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This small barn lies on Route 30 going into Manchester, Vermont. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

The Browser Culture and Creativity

Creativity needs down time. And today's pace, and the browser culture we live in, is NOT good fuel for the best in creativity. That's the thrust of this article, which I highly recommend. The article is talking about shopping, but think a minute beyond the topic and you see that it extends to all creativity.

Tom

Reclaiming Creativity

This interesting article from Psychology Today talks about creativity as more than innovation. It's the first article of what it says will be a 12 step program to reclaiming creativity.

Poem: Riverside Paean

Riverside Paean

The ropes lie loose at your feet,
no longer tied to anything,
releasing you
for the journey ahead,

no longer shackles,
but a part of history,
pain sharp and crippling, until
finally let go, and now

it flows like the ancient brown river
that drifts past you,
drawing you ever and ever
onward.

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The picture was taken along the Champlain Locks in Washington County, NY. You can click on it for a larger view.

Tom

Poem: You Pray

You Pray

You pray each morning,
before the sunrise,
your eyes closed in silent supplication,

for this moment,
lost in time and space,
living in someplace Other, reaching

beyond your own place and power,
in belief that there is more
than you can see, feel and know.

You pray
for your children,
for their safety and strength,

for a wisdom you cannot give them,
that comes only with love and grace,
and the courage to believe.

You pray
for those who cross your path each day,
their needs varied,
sometimes fleeting,
sometimes painfully long.

You pray for those that have hurt you,
whose scars you now bear, aware
that no pain has a single direction,
and that healing takes more than time,
more than grace, more than you are.
and so you pray.

You pray for the one you love most,
whose tender heart aches
with fear and sadness.

And you pray for the strength
to serve, to grow wiser, calmer,
for peace and a heart that loves
more than it fears.

You pray.
Morning and night.
Waiting.
Always waiting.
Always.

================

The picture is of the sunrise a day or two ago on the road to Pawlet, VT. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Thoughts - On buying a library

I bought a library this weekend. Yes, you read that, a whole library. I was at an auction from a wonderful old house down the road from me, an estate sale. Most everything was selling high, which was fine, I don't need much and I was there more for the atmosphere and people watching. Cheap and delightful entertainment.

There were a lot of antique dealers there snarfing up the good stuff at good prices so I quickly settled into the mindset that I wasn't going to buy anything and just enjoyed the crisp autumn air and the parade of antiques and curiosities being auctioned off.

Then at one point, they put up the library. All the books, maybe a few hundred of them, that were in the built in bookshelves along the walls in the house. I had vaguely seen them but had no idea what was in them, and didn't give a thought to bidding.

After all, I already have a library. I've been collecting books since I was single the first time and I have walls of them in my little Vermont house. I still buy books, but sparingly, aware that with some size constraints, I have to protect myself from being swallowed by the things, which could easily happen. Yes, I could end up being one of those nutty old professor types whose whole house smells of ancient tomes and cats.

No one bid on the library.

That blew my mind. They had sold a couple of small lots of antique books for far more money than I could afford, so I figured these would go for a small fortune. The asking price in the auction began at a thousand dollars, then five hundred, then a hundred, then fifty, then forty.

I bid. And no one else did. Bang! I owned a second library. I'll be going over in my trusty Isuzu trooper this afternoon and loading it up.

My first thought was "what am I doing to do with all these books?" But after that, I calmed down. I'll pick through for a few that sing to me, pick out some more I think family and friends might like, and have already contacted the Pawlet library about taking the rest, either for their shelves or for the annual book sale they do. There's also a reading/loaner program for teaching people to read that might be able to use them.

Intially, because I love my books, I thought "how sad that no one wants this collection of a lifetime.", but I got past that feeling. I wanted them, and in the end, while they won't be together, they'll get into the hands of many, many people who also love books. So there is gain, in a way.

When I thought about it that way, it was forty dollars very well spent. I'm itching to get over there and load them up now.

Tom

An Update (since some of you asked).
I loaded up the Trooper over my lunch hour today, sorting through the books as I did so. I pulled out about 40 books for myself, some on religion, some on history, and a few poetry books. There were some old bibles in there that were marvelous. (I am a semi collector of such things), and some 19th century religious books, which I also have a weakness for.

I pulled out a few art books from a friend I have made here in Vermont, and a slew of cookbooks and some books on birds from the lady I love up here. The rest, about 12 boxes, will go to the local library for their use or to sell in their yearly book sale.

The real treasures were newspapers. There was a stack of old newspapers at the bottom of the shelves and they were real find. There were several from when the Titanic went down, which will go to my daughter, a total Titanic freak, and a group of papers from the days of and just after JFK's assassination, which I will either sell or donate somewhere, as well as some with other signicance, like Amelia Earhart's disappearance, etc. I felt like I had gone back in History.

It's all in the back of the Trooper for now. I'll unload the ones I am going to keep or give to dear ones later today, then get the others to the library when they can take them. All in all, I got so much more than my few dollars worth here. I found a real treasure to enjoy, and share.

Tom

PS - The picture is of one of the Titanic papers. You can click on it for a larger version.

About this blog

I've done freelance creative work for years. Along the way companies and people have tapped me to do copywriting, photography, product development, interior design, corporate re-engineering, facilitate brainstorming, marketing, design web sites, service design and a lot more. I've written plays, stories, and poetry. I've done drama and music, created choreography. I've run marketing for two companies and been a partner in an ad agency. I've done creative work for corporations, ministries and individuals. I've taught creativity and done talks and workshops on the power and development of creativity.

Along the way, I have developed a keen interest in how creativity works, and how it's put to work. The variety is endless and every day I read things and stumble on things that I think are just plain interesting. This blog is where I share some of them.

My hope? That you dear reader, will find some of this stuff useful and interesting too. And perhaps, along the way, will add comments and thoughts to stimulate others imagination. So poke around. Enjoy. Drop me a line if you like. Send me ideas or links. Enjoy the ride!

Tom Atkins

Poem: The House on Mansassas Battlefield

The House on Manassas Battlefield

You are like the house, grey in the rain,
it's windows gaping and boarded up,
it's door nailed shut,
abandoned, forsaken

after a generation of neglect
left it a shell of what it once was,
no longer loved and worse,
somehow at fault

because of that same lack of love,
and no longer worthy,
it's brick walls and foundation
no longer seen

as a place to build upon,
a beginning point
to restore the glory,
reclaim the strength

of what once was,
to reclaim it's place
of comfort and protective power,
until you are alone,

a curious wreck,
passed by each day
with gawkers who mostly ignore you,
and the few who don't stare and wonder

what happened
and why
and for how long
and that special one looks

and sees what was and can be again
and wonders
"what if?"
and stops long enough

to peer in the one open window
and then believe
when others did not
that resurrection is possible
for houses, souls and hearts.

=====================

The picture was taken through my windsheild this morning, as I passed Manassas Battlefield outside Washington, DC. Technically it's a terrible shot, too dark (It was 6 something AM.) and all blurred by rain and glass, but I liked the ghostly quality of it, and so here it is. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

My first book: Love in a Minor Key

I have published my first book of poetry.

Titled "Love in a Minor Key", it is a collection of love poems, true to the tenderness, pain, and entire range of emotions that we somehow try to encapsulate in the single word of "love". Available in paperback or hardcover, the book is illustrated throughout with my own photographs, much as I have done on this site for the past few years.

You can learn more, preview it, or buy it here.

And yes, the picture above is the cover.

Tom

Just a few pictures

At times, words fail me, so since this seems to be one of those days, I am simply sharing some images of Autumn in Vermont, taken this weekend. As always, you can click on the images for a larger version.

Tom

Near Rupert, VT

Down the road from my house.

Homecoming in Manchester, VT.

Near Dorset, VT

The quarry across from my house.

Poem: Jude 1:21-24

Jude 1:21-24

You pause and look in the mirror,
at the scars that riddle your forehead,
at the white gash on your arm,
all healed,
yet visible reminders
of the weakness of flesh.

You pause and look in the mirror
in wonderment at the scars,
far deeper, of the heart,
deeper and raw, still seeping
with sadness, and wonder
why they do not show,

except in the quiet of the night,
as you lie alone with your thoughts,
but not alone,
never alone, always cradled
by the same God

who all day long, filled your life with tiny blessings,
bright flowers, the taste of fresh bread,
the kindness of friends,
a lover's caress,
all balm,

to heal, and like the scars
in the mirror, to mark you
as one who has lived
beyond the pain,
to see the realness of life,
the flow of days of promise
that is already yours, even
if you do not see it
yet.

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The picture was taken just down the road from my house. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

PS - I sometimes get e-mail from people when my poems seem kind of down, asking if I am "OK". I am fine, this is just what the muse sent me this morning. You never know.

Poem: Restoration

Restoration

The walls are rugged and bare,
worn brick and fragile mortar,
with raw cypress beams overhead.

Outside, paint is peeling
and the slate shingles are worn
with two centuries of battle

against rain and snow,
gray with age, chipped,
yet defiant.

Inside, you stand,
seeing not what is,
but what was, and what could be

with time, and work,
love and prayer,
how from this wreck

of a life, something
marvelous emerges,
a home for the heart

more glorious than the original
because of, not despite,
it's resurrection.

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The picture is from Poplar Forest, the unrestored half of the house. As my friends know, I like restoring old houses (I'm on my second one now.), so it could have just as easily put up a picture of my place, except my house is not too photogenic yet! You can click on the picture for a larger version.

Tom