http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php Copyright 2012, Me Me en-US SPHPBLOG 0.5.1 http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry120322-124047 Oh yes, also lived through Alana's trip to India over the holidays to study eco-housing in preparation for her masters thesis in architecture. In no time at all she will graduate, just as I graduated at age 24 with my masters in education...

Suffering through a springtime cold, for the first time in ages, i lollygag around reading old New York Times book reviews, thinking about which book of mine i should focus on next, or how to find an agent, or whether gardening is enough of an accomplishment. Back in the women's prison with a new class, i never tire of first meeting my students knowing how close, how intimate, we shall be by the end of the course, seeing their eyes light up when they "get" that we're all "equal under the law of the pen" that this is not a writing contest, and that each of us has something of value to share. It seems so obvious to me; we've all lived, suffered, rejoiced, made mistakes, atoned for them, enjoyed a good meal, wished for love, had our dreams, put one foot in front of the other as we made our own unique path. And now it's time, high time we could say, to write about it, to recall and deliver to the world our own human literature.

Ok, I'm a crusader for lifestories, for haiku poetry, I'm a crusader for "everyone has something to say and deserves to be heard." I've made it my life's calling, my life's
passion, my life's joy to write and invite others to do so. I don't care if I'm a household word, just let there be many words, let their be huge democracies of words, huge encyclopedias of the human experience set in ink... on real pages, PLEASE, a book one can hold, as close as a lover, letting the pages riffle in the wind, spilling a rosy drop of tomato on it, what the heck, or a tear. Let the books be loved, read again, passed on to others, rediscovered, reprinted, and adored by readers everywhere, writers everywhere.

So sayeth Ka.

And inbetween my crusading, how i love my flowers, my vegetables, my bouquets all over the house, my e-mail exchanges, my cat Georgie, whose purr rumbles as he plumps down on my lap, a hefty loaf of pumpkin fur, how i love the sunshine and rain, the yellow butterflies of spring, the buzzing bees, the tiny new green leaves, the wind in the chimes.
I love reaching out to my anonymous and welcome readers, saying "I'm back, I'm still
alive, I'm still writing" and glad of it.

May spring gladden our hearts, make us want to romp in the clover, plant seeds that will blossom and fruit, as we sow now what we most wish to harvest... may it be peace

A coupla spring haiku


Too many flowers
for just one woman to count
let the bees do it

Cat cannot decide
this garden bed or that one
for its daily snooze

Birds write brand new songs
for the springtime hit parade
treetop broadcasting


xo
katya


]]> http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry120322-124047 Me Thu, 22 Mar 2012 17:40:47 GMT http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry111119-175659 peace, a respite from wondering or worrying or even hoping, just watching the wisps of charcoal and pink float across the sky.

And, i'm celebrating the arrival of my latest book: The Wheel of Belonging (The Faith Columns and Sermons of Ka) -- another assurance that i will live on, through words on paper, and photographs, i will live on if humankind decides to continue reading books, which i prayerfully wish to be true, don't you?

It's such a clutchable little book, just the right size and heft to pick up and fall into,
and the photo of me, at 27 on the front cover, matched by one of me at 67 on the back cover, is oh so tender, knowing four decades of life happened in the interim, life which is condensed into black ink and philosophy to share with the masses, or with, at the least, my humble group of pilgrim pioneers, you who now peruse these words.

I've started another semester at the women's prison, teaching a new group of students who are finding out that there's no way to fail this class, no way to "write wrong" or to "think wrong", no reason to be anything but who they are, telling their stories, their hurts, joys, memories, redeeming themselves from the fact of their incarceration. And as Bo Lozoff the new age prison reformer and author once put it "We're all doing time". But at least we, who are not behind bars, can bathe in private. At least we can prepare our own food. At least we can hold our children (or grandchildren) in our arms.

And finishing up my class at the senior retirement community -- with a LifeStories Review, with leaf art on the cover, in honor of the season. It is going on 30 years now that I have
taught these classes and put out these anthologies. Dust in the wind? Or seeds for luscious blossoms and fruit? Does it matter? If it doesn't matter, what does?

So i philosophize, as night draws near, and Tom and i prepare to put on "going out" clothes to see Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, not a cheerful play by any means. But the human condition
is so varied, is so rich and complex -- our pain and our liberation from pain.

May we all crunch through crisp colorful leaves, and listen to the geese honk as they head for the nearest pond; may we glory in these mellow days before the onset of true chilling winter (for those who live in northern climes). Let us celebrate Thanksgiving --that we are here, still here, riding the wave of Time together, as the scarlet and gold trees whisper their mournful and uplifting melodies.

Perhaps we prepare to close the book of this year with a gentle gesture, but not too soon, please. Let fall's golden lantern cast its beam a little further yet...


Katya






]]> http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry111119-175659 Me Sat, 19 Nov 2011 23:56:59 GMT http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry110916-195314
In Florida, Autumn is a tease, and what a tease! Here is a poem I wrote on Sept 2


THE FIRST FALL AIR

The first fall air is like
nothing else
At first you can’t
believe it
you think it’s a trick of the soul
during a long hot summer
but no
you felt it
you feel it
you swing the window open
wider
the coolness wafts forward
caressing every part of you
the birds sing
giddily of gladness
you can almost imagine
a gold leaf falling
soon
sooner
soonest
The fall air surprises you
with its lyric song
its bright messages
a suitor
who finally, when you’ve given up
shows her/his face
and you know
it’s love

KA

And now it is the 16th, and the fiery breath of afternoons of 93 (again) show up,
then sudden rain falls, and the windows can again be opened wide.

I listen to Beethoven's Ode to Joy as I'm writing this, celebrating the rebirth of the human spirit, out of the doldrums into bliss, out of sorrow into a paroxysm of hope!!!

What a parable, summer/fall/ human condition. Some days peace, some days stress,
some days monumental accomplishments, some days lethargy.

Back from Oregon, from my 50th high school reunion, from visiting beloved Haystack Rock on the shore of the Pacific Ocean, from visiting old friends from the 70's, the glory of women's liberation (cultural revolution) days. Remeeting a self that was only 17 when i graduated from Corvallis High -- now 67, and happily content with what -- woosh -- the last fifty years have brought -- and relieved to find my old classmates mellow too, and
happy to see me -- me, Nina, as I was known in those days, editor of my high school
newspaper, the "bohemian intellectual" I still am, n'est-ce pas??? We were all grateful to still be here to walk down memory lane together...

Now home to Florida, to my fall garden, upcoming classes, my newest book about to go to press! Home to a sudden urge to offer movement classes again (Reach, bend, sway, bounce, twirl, balance, leap, breathe!) Home to Haiku arising -- spontaneous, magical, words of solace and revelation. Home to the wheel of fortune, spinning, and my own place on it. Home to you, my readers, students, strangers yet to be met.

Let's touch hands as we pass --- under the leaves of gold -- while the sky becomes radiant, and wishes come true --- and the sad world is healed, and sisters and brothers
dance in the streets --- and what we declare to be true, is recognized as wisdom
and shared among the populace ---

cast your fortune now! and soon, so soon, we'll collect the prize

xo
ka
]]> http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry110916-195314 Me Sat, 17 Sep 2011 00:53:14 GMT http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry110627-153705

Dear reader –

It is now the summer of 2011, a very hot summer (as all summers are in Tallahassee) but maybe hotter this year? Seems so. One day in mid June when my old high school classmate was visiting, and I took her down to the gulf beach to swim and loll, a record temp of 105 degrees was recorded in my city. What, I wondered (I have often wondered) did people do in Florida before air conditioning? Before iced coffee? Just sit and sweat? Slow way way down? Pick at their mosquito bites? Complain or turn stoic?

Be that as it may, it IS air conditioned in my home, as I sit talking with you now. And the train whistle blows, whoo-whoo, a melancholy sound. The train is pulling freight; our local station no longer has passenger service to other towns. In fact, our Amtrak office is now a little art theater where we can see films no standard cinema would show.

I am not teaching this summer (though I begin again in the fall – back to the women’s prison and back to Westminster Oaks, (an upscale retirement community), but I am in the midst of compiling my Wheel of Belonging book of faith columns and sermons. Now, having tweaked the galleys twice, I am focusing on the graphics, to stimulate the eye and break up the text. It takes faith to know that summer will end, and that fall will come. It takes faith to believe that this hurricane season will leave the very tall trees, surrounding our home, standing upright. It takes faith that my daughter and her boyfriend will survive a four day rafting trip through a deep river gorge in a wilderness area in Montana. Life itself takes faith, does it not, or maybe just blind obedience to habit and desire.

The breeze picks up, the magnolia branches begin to toss. Is another afternoon thunderstorm at hand? Perhaps pelting rain will dash the grass and garden, ensuring lushness. The two green Adirondack chairs on the hill, no one sitting in them, wait patiently for two friends to walk up there and begin to share confidences.

I reach out to you – friends, strangers – so as to link our journeys, our travels through time, through seasons, through recessions and upswings, through natural disasters and human acts of kindness, through political strife and community concensus, through garden planting and harvesting, old friends reuniting, tactical errors, acts of insight, even genius. I honor this life of events and musings, of history and creation, bird songs, low flying clouds, leaping fish, haiku poetry, gospel choirs, sewing projects, fresh raspberries and homemade bread, and especially I welcome the chance to witness to it all before it passes away.

What does summer hold for you this year? May it be a time of sweet delight and
gentle reckonings with fate. May you sip and savor the cool drink of your choice,
read what pleases you, dance till midnight, and dote on your loved ones. Your
correspondence – via my e-mail – is always welcome, any and all musings, and ah, here come the first droplets now….

Katya, June 27, 2011






]]> http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry110627-153705 Me Mon, 27 Jun 2011 20:37:05 GMT http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry110310-085445
Rebirth is a bittersweet topic, as tomorrow marks the second anniversary of my father's death. Bob Sabaroff was almost ninety and had a life of great accomplishment, adventure, friendship: architect, engineer, professor, patron of the arts, world traveler, there is nothing to mourn -- except the loss of his presence, his quirky and dependable pronouncements such as "Look with your eyes!" and "Hope springs eternal in the human breast." The latter was said with gentle mockery because he knew hope alone didn't always bring success to our endeavors, but it was said with compassion too, for humanity's lot.

As the world seems to be in revolution - across the ocean - and in America the parties who try to rule our democracy are fighting it out as to who can blame the loudest, I continue to live my life as if I am the governing hub of my little existence, my Ka-ness. I just finished up an eight week class at the women's prison, publishing an anthology of the amazing and profound writings of the inmates, that they named "Imaginations Uncovered" -- and oh what power imagination has, to free us from behind whatever bars appear to be locking us in. The women humble me with their strength, and they honor me with their sharing. The same is true for my class at a senior retirement community, where one of my students laughingly praised me for "flipping her switch" - that is, giving her creativity an outlet, something we all need.

I ponder what's next --- a new class coming up at the prison next week, a new class at the senior center in April, a trip out to Oregon in August to celebrate my 50th high school reunion -- seeing people i haven't been in touch with since i left home for college at seventeen! And more immediately, more veggies planted, more veggies harvested, more walks in the neighborhood, more work on my Wheel of Belonging book of sermons and faith columns, hopefully to be printed by June -- when my garden is reaching its peak! More Tuesday morning stints at the homeless shelter, preparing and serving food to those who have lost their jobs, their homes, but hopefully not their hopeful spirit; i count my blessings as I ladle out their casseroles, I pray for a society who counts the homeless as true members
of our planetary family.

Readers, I ask you now as I ask myself - what is being reborn today? What do we have faith in? How do we want to spend our time, our energy, our money? What words lie hidden within us waiting for expression? What evolutionary visions have we of this season, of the promise of tomorrow? Let us not forget that idealism is its own reward, so much more practical than cynicism or despair!

Write to me - share with me - dance with me - as the rain stops and the sun comes out. I praise our intimacy across whatever divides us.

Katya











]]> http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry110310-085445 Me Thu, 10 Mar 2011 14:54:45 GMT http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry100831-202211
I KNOW i wrote a blog entry in August. I had just returned from more than two weeks of R and R up North, in Morgantown, West Virginia and Ithaca, New York, including a week long stay at a cottage on Cayuga Lake, and I was revved for thinking about Fall when the sap would rise and I'd be on a creative wave of energy.

I wrote in that entry about returning to teach in the prisons, a women's prison, not far from my home, offering writing to the inmates. I used to teach in the jail and the prisons nearby but haven't since 1998. I hope one day to compile an anthology of writings from the inmates and from my own pen (we always write on the word prompts together). I will call it PRISON WISDOM. Its amazing how each person has a unique voice, a unique back story, a unique heartfelt way of expressing their reality. And, as someone more famous than me once remarked "We are ALL doing time."

I wrote a blog about returning to the wonders of my garden, where the zinnias were aflame and happy to see me, how my cats rejoiced and my parakeet sang like crazy, and so on and so on, and I posted it, and I thought it was there, but when i recently went to check -- woosh, it wasn't there at all.

Did I dream the whole thing up? Anything is possible!

So here I am, trying again... and sharing that this morning for the first time in a long hot summer, i felt a coolness come in the window, and my heart sang -- ah, a whiff of Autumn. For Fall truly has always been my favorite season, i feel invigorated and ready to take on projects, discover new challenges, and take advantage of opportunities that suddenly appear
and beckon to me.

Thank all of you for being alive at this time, too, and being part of the tapestry of my
life, my journey. Since this is not an interactive site, remember you can e-mail me if you have thoughts or reactions or just want to share your own hopes, dreams, victories,
worries, and rejoicings.

Now, let's see if this will post!

xo Ka

]]> http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry100831-202211 Me Wed, 01 Sep 2010 01:22:11 GMT http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry100416-085216 My Spring to-do list
plant garden, water garden
watch my life ripen

***

And, it's time for a catch up. What have I been up to since the last entry? Writing a whole sheaf of Out the Window poems, inspired by a pen pal whose barred window reveals only a brick wall, who asked me "What do you see today out your window?" Perhaps this collection of "what do you really see when you look, how is nature revealing herself, and what human spin does my consciousness make of the scene before me?" will be published to inspire others to watch the shifting reality of their own landscape. I've also taught another Lifestories class, held a writing retreat at Alligator Point, and offered a Haiku Hour at our local Knott House Museum.

I honored the one year anniversary of my father, Bob Sabaroff's, death, on March 11.

April 30 is the last full day of paid employment for my husband Tom as he transits into retirement and creating his own firm to continue his conflict resolution advocacy.

On May 1, our daughter, Alana Rose Taylor, will graduate with a degree in architecture from Univ of Florida, and go on to graduate school for her Masters.

I'm out in the garden planting and watering, picking flowers for my sills and kitchen table altar, getting ready to update my will -- yes, mortality is on my mind -- swimming at Myer's Park Pool several times a week, continuing to take stock of my life in my current journal, and writing "assignments" with friends, and pondering - as always - what workshops or offerings are next, which manuscripts to compile into books....

I go on witnessing the political stream of rancor and hope, trying to "be the change I want to see in the world" rather than frenzied demonization of "the other side" (so easy to fall into this trap), weeping for tragic loss of life in earthquakes and other climactic disasters, celebrating the passage of health care reform - even in its imperfect complexity -- weekly visiting my public library to nourish my continuing love affair with books, language, as well as tuning in to the wisdom and talent of fellow writers...

And I'm pledging to write my blog entries more consistently, in case my readers are wondering where I've gone to, and when I'll return!

Astonishingly
every day I find myself
beginning again

So grateful for my life, my fellow pilgrims, my earth, and this amazing internet that permits us all to share instantaneously and continuously with one another. On we go!









]]> http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry100416-085216 Me Fri, 16 Apr 2010 12:52:16 GMT http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry090811-065427
Summer in Tallahassee, I'm back from California where I had to clean out my dad's house of all his earthly possessions -- the end of a chapter, a chapter of having living parents (my mom died in 02, my dad in march of this year)... and what a relief it is to be looking out my study window at the last of my garden -- a bumper crop of basil, a few scraggly left over tomatoes, zinnias, and some flowering japanese eggplant that will continue to produce for another month or two -- and soon, it will be time to dig it all up, and consider a fall garden... such are the rhythms of nature and my life.

Now is the time to begin considering offering Haiku Hour and LifeStories workshops around town -- Fall is always a time of renewed energy and productivity -- whereas summer is a time to slack off and drink cold lemonade and read library books and go swimming -- in a privileged life, which mine is -- I remember once, a very long time ago, when i was in my early thirties, and still leading a somewhat tumultuous life -- that an astrologer doing my chart told me "You will have a serene old age." Maybe that is now, maybe these are my golden years, that would be sweet.

Not that there aren't earthly, mortal challenges that show up on any given day, unexpectedly, and that is as it should be -- otherwise the line that shows brain and heart activity would be flat and boring -- one wants waves and crests and spillings and risings up and spillings again -- at least I do -- and more poems, which come from a place both of satisfaction and disturbance -- poems of praise, and also poems of sorrow and disruption -- for both are linked to one another, in some mysterious way, I find.

My dad's death -- counterpoint to my daughter starting her last year of college in the architecture program -- counterpoint to the health care crisis in america -- counterpoint to the appointment of the first hispanic supreme court justice -- counterpoint to
so many polarities and ironies and discoveries and paradoxes that make my time on earth so fascinating and worthy of contemplation.

What is this blog but a way of hearing myself and sharing with you the thoughts and feelings that pass through the matrix of my unique consciousness? In the hopes that somehow it matters -- what i think and feel - and the hope that my ramblings will inspire you to write your own messages onto the fabric of the universe.... and into my e-mail box (see bio-contact page to e-mail me)...

What I see sees me
a mirror echo image
caught in a poem

xo
ka




]]> http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry090811-065427 Me Tue, 11 Aug 2009 13:54:27 GMT http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry090430-222436
My next big project is filling out the Healing Touch and Movement section of this site.
I want to dance, and invite you to dance; I want to reach out and touch you with my hands, and invite you to touch loved ones, friends, colleagues, and even strangers - in need - yes - with your hands. I want to explore with you the relaxing "Rock Around the Joints" move, that is so soothing and balancing, as well as the art of Foot Reflexology, and invite you to play "mirror" with friends, students, clients, to learn new ways to move, and to become "one," in essence, with the person you are mirroring.

I want to share personal essays I have written on the inherent power and beauty of the body that each of us inhabits, a body that is too often seen as "separate" from the mind -- a body that has been forced to sit still, wear uncomfortable shoes, never encouraged to break into a jig on a sidewalk, a body that we often ignore, or punish, through neglect or harsh habits.

I do not intend to offer sermons, (preaching the way and truth and light!) but simply, I want to share what I love with you -- the art of putting words together to create beauty and meaning -- the art of movement, the multiplicity of ways our bodies can express themselves -- and the art of touch -- using our hands to relieve stress or pain in ourselves and others, to soothe and uplift and nourish...Ah yes...

And, in my personal life, my 21 year old daughter Alana is about to fly to Hong Kong, China, and Japan for eight weeks with a group of architecture students -- to learn about design in the Far East --- yes, she will get to Japan before I do --- and hopefully, write some Haiku while on her journey --which I will gladly share with you, my readers.

And on Mother's Day weekend - with my daughter already in Hong Kong, Tom and I will head for St. George Island --- where I hope to write a long piece on my dear father, Bob Sabaroff, who died at the age of 89, after a very brief decline, on March 11 (09). Dad was an architect, engineer, professor, world traveler, and patron of the arts, and was married to my mom Rose (who died in '02) for 62 years. What an adventuresome, full, accomplished existence, and I carry him (and Mom) within me always.

That's the news of the last day of April. Tomorrow, May Day, my site goes live!
And the work and pleasure before me stretches onward....


]]> http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry090430-222436 Me Fri, 01 May 2009 05:24:36 GMT http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry090210-093656
At 65, I find I have become the fruit of my own tree -- filled with bounty I am now
reaping. May this tree – which, in my Tallahassee neighborhood, could be considered
a historic landmark – live a very long time, continuing to bear fruit, exotic and plain,
rich and simple in flavor. May I reach out to friends and strangers – with my utterances, with my dark ink, with insight, confusion, rejoicing, retreating, returning. Let me be
like the waves of the sea, at my beloved St. George Island – rolling in, ebbing back, rolling in, leaving treasure on the shore.

The pen is waiting
with the world spread out below
for us to notice

Feb 10, 2009

]]> http://www.creativeartsandhealing.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry090210-093656 Me Tue, 10 Feb 2009 17:36:56 GMT