Michele Lee Sefton's Blog, page 21

Oh, my stars!

Oh, how scrumptious
last night’s stars would be
sprinkled across my morning cup
a taste like nothing else grown from earth
            a hint of smokey –
            vapor scooped from a comet’s tail
            blended with the sweetness of an angel’s whispers
            from the heavenly realm
            celestial elements, found in us
            to linger on my tongue

Stirring in my pocket, felt with a sleepy touch
a gentle pat that says, I feel you
            oh, how I want to gobble you up

Instead, I reach in
fingertips tingle from last night’s starry sequins
carefully plucked from a late-summer sky
I make one more wish, just because
then blow the shimmer toward the rising sun

Thanks for stopping by. I’ve been doing my best to take life at a slow delicious pace these last few days. Publishing my second novella, Honeysuckle Heat, has freed up some time space and my mind is enjoying the free-flowing break. My dancey self is embracing the restorative value of releasing months of dedicated focus through movement.

About my recent novella ~ I’d like to extend a hearty thank you to those who’ve read and reviewed my book. Since I can’t reach through the screen and give you a grateful-author-squeeze, a written thank you will have to do. I greatly appreciate you, wonderful readers! Here’s one from gifted and gracious author, Selma Martin: First A Deibide Baise Fri Toin, Then A Book Review.

More reviews and a book preview can be found on the book’s page. There you’ll also find how the book is categorized. [image error] Honeysuckle Heat is available as a paperback, eBook, and an audio book.

One more note before you go… I am dropping a thought seed, with more to come. Beginning in October, I will be embarking on a creative venture that I’ve wanted to do since beginning this blog in 2019. I will be offering a monthly zoom call focused on a topic that I’ve long been interested in, the creative process. I will share a bit about my creative journey of writing a novel and two novellas and then encourage and facilitate discussion from other creatives about their process, with the goal of learning from and supporting each other. I am also interested in exploring the topic of taking care of the creative brain. I will be drip dropping info over the coming weeks. If this sounds like an experience you’d like to share, please email me through my contact page. I will be sending out info to those interested in addition to sharing more details in posts. Participant size will be limited to ensure everyone has a chance to share and all creatives are welcome!

featured photo by Kidsada Photo / last night’s moon / recent sunrise / dance selfie taken last year (I am stronger and more silver now) [image error]

© 2024 MyInspiredLife

Next time

When one isn’t accustomed to seeing the hands of time
            spinning
            at the same altitude as a bird, soaring

            moving in the direction that times moves,
                        clockwise, forward

One never forgets a first encounter
with a time-keeping face, grand in its appearance
a face, highly visible, that watches, as it organizes and directs

for me it was the D & F Clocktower in downtown Denver
            (circa 1985)

A teenager standing on a street corner taking photos of the famous clocktower
            with a 35 mm camera – filmed developed, long gone

Just one more photo,
            just one more click in Bruges
kept me from enjoying a Belgian waffle
though I could taste the air, sweet & thick with syrupy scents

I was pondering all the Belfry Clock Tower in Bruges has seen,
high above a city rich in history

I was marveling at the time
I just wasn’t watching it

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter–tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And one fine morning– So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Thanks for stopping by. Kind regards. Michele

my photos taken in and outside of the Bourgogne des Flandres Brewery in Bruges, Belgium

© 2024 MyInspiredLife

Extraterrestrial Tale

I looked up from my register and noticed him walking toward me. His steps were bouncy, and his smile was beaming. Although he always wore a pleasant disposition, I wondered why my boss, Don, looked so happy. He was carrying a manilla envelope in his right hand that he held up and waved in front of me while telling me, “I have some exciting news! You sold the most copies of E.T. in the entire state of Arizona!”

His news made me laugh.

“You got a bonus!” he said while handing me the envelope.

I opened the envelope, scanned the letter which announced my sales accomplishments, then I looked at the check. A few zeros so I was happy. Relieved actually.

My boss was excited for me and proud of me and elated at the recognition received for “his store.”

I was excited to have some extra cash to pay for my car insurance.

A surprise for me because I didn’t set out to sell the most copies of E.T.; it just happened, somewhat by default. Sure, I was a friendly clerk who asked customers if they’d like to order a copy of the movie, E.T. Some said sure, some said no thanks, and the rest said they’d think about it. My winning edge came not from assertive sales tactics but from the laziness of my fellow clerks who didn’t want to be bothered with filling out the pre-order form.

How many times I heard, “Michele knows how to do that…” before filling out another form.

I was also the one who said yes to Don when asked who would be willing to walk down Scottsdale Road carrying a large sign attached to a stick that read, “E.T. is here.” Always up for some shenanigans (to relieve cash register boredom), I said, “I’ll do it.” I was happy to get out of the store.

Shortly after my extraterrestrial strut down a busy street, pre-orders for the popular movie started. Warehouse Records & Tapes is long gone. I wonder if any of those pre-ordered videos are still around.

Thank you for reading! This memory popped in my brain this morning. The rest is history, as they say. For those not familiar with the movie… E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial is a 1982 American science fiction film produced and directed by Steven Spielberg and written by Melissa Mathison, released in VHS format in October of 1988, according to Wikipedia. Sounds about right – early college days for me, on my own for a few years, making $5/hr selling vinyl records and VHS tapes. I remember when we boxed up vinyls to make room for music CDs. That’s another story. Warm regards. Michele

featured photo of VHS tapes by Taner Muhlis Karaguzel / second photo of scene from E.T. movie by Ralf Liebhold / my Friday car selfie

© 2024 MyInspiredLife

It’s cooler in the shade(s)

“Sometimes in the summer evenings they walked up the hill to watch the afterglow clinging to the tops of the western mountains and to feel the breeze drawn into the valley by the rising day-heated air. Usually they stood silently for a while and breathed in peacefulness. Since both were shy they never talked about themselves. Neither knew about the other at all.”
― John Steinbeck, East of Eden

Click here for ZZ Top’s Cheap Sunglasses (w/lyrics) if music video doesn’t load.

I seldom wear sunglasses but when I do, they are always cheap. Truth. I don’t wear them when I am out photographing because I prefer to see nature and light sans filters and sunglasses have a way of distorting hues, and for a few years now I’ve been wearing reading glasses which actually do help me see the settings on my camera. I don’t wear sunglasses when I am riding because they are a distraction and the same is often true when driving. Mostly I try to avoid the sun, unless it is just rising or setting. Of course, sunglasses are a necessity at the beach or when sitting poolside.

I’ve been enjoying the September buzz read on a few other blogs. Those in the Northern Hemisphere expressing their excitement over approaching autumn with cooler days and the (future) sight of leaves falling. Sounds lovely and I do share in this sentiment. One I must travel to experience. The desert offers her own beauty and endless lessons but a “change of seasons” ~ that won’t be happening. I’ve also read a few blogs recently with weather forecasts displaying ideal days approaching. Dreamy. For fun, I thought I would share the week’s forecast for the Valley of the Sun. Oh goody, it’s going to be 111 degrees Fahrenheit on Thursday! [image error]

I have many things to celebrate with September’s arrival… a recently published novella, five years of blogging, one full year without a haircut or color ([image error]), eighteen months of an intense dance practice, but my greatest accomplishment having reached September will be making it through an entire summer in this “dry heat.” Joking aside, my free spirit has been energized by warm summer nights under the stars and morning rides pedaling against strong summer winds, now this tumbleweed is ready to roll away…

Thank you for visiting and reading, perhaps the most random post I’ve shared in five years, though Steinbeck paired with ZZ Top makes perfect sense to me. If not, blame it on the heat.

my photos of Sonoran Desert at sunset w/downtown Phoenix in the distance / car selfie w/cheap sunglasses, oh yeah!

© 2024 MyInspiredLife

Her long blowing locks will linger

I’ve never been overly fond of palm trees, mainly because, although not native to the Sonoran Desert, they are scattered everywhere. Native vegetation is best, to keep the natural environment in balance, wherever the location. Another reason I would prefer to see desert-friendly trees, like a mesquite or Palo Verde vs. a palm, is that to display their full beauty, palm trees require a level of maintenance that can be challenging and costly. They often look neglected and thirsty.

My attitude toward palm trees changed several months ago following a change in office views, which included enjoying a majestic well-cared for California palm. Casting my gaze upon the long fronds blowing in the wind or reflecting light from her waxy leaf texture has given me countless visual escapes, brain breaks, and smiles when noticing a bird land on a shoot and surf the wind. The tall tree also stood as a striking subject or silhouette when the sun set behind her. I never gave her a name like Moody Tree in the distance, north of the palm, though I did consider the palm a lady with long windblown golden locks.

A few minutes can change everything.

Now when I look out my office window, I see more horizon, not the tall palm that showed me how beautiful and enchanting their species can be. Her tree life came to an abrupt ending the same afternoon I was nearing the end of my novella. While typing, I noticed a man climbing toward her crown. I thought, she’s getting a trim. Good of her owners to take proper care. The next few minutes left me heartbroken as I watched the palm get lopped down, one section at a time, until the landscaper safely reached the ground. Her green and golden beauty smashed near where he stood. Her shorter palm companion met the same fate. Years of growth reduced to a pile of earthy remains. In time manmade construction will take their place.  

Their sad ending left me in tears and with a feeling of how ironic life can sometimes be to arrange two contrasting scenes at the same time and how perplexing our minds and hearts are to carry two contradictory emotions, with equal weight. In my case, sudden grief over losing a tree that had become an unlikely writing companion and the joy of nearing “the end” of a long-term project. For my project’s reason, I had to tuck this sadness away, as best as I could and carry on with the tasks at hand. Accomplished by reminding myself how temporary all things are. Life is forever reminding.

It has been a few weeks since this happened and my gazing in her ghost direction is now offering an expanded sky view. I do see symbolism in the situation. I am also left with gratitude for her company during some long days. Thank you for reading. While scrolling through my photos, looking for a “silent” Sunday share, her photos stood out and I felt compelled to honor her beauty and inspiring presence.

“I suddenly realized I was in California. Warm, palmy air – air you can kiss – and palms.”
― Jack Kerouac, On the Road

my photos: the first features the palm at dusk w/crescent moon and lit lamppost just after light switched on (the top of her short companion left in the frame) / the tall palm and her sidekick in the afternoon sun / sunrise view w/out palm trees

© 2024 MyInspiredLife

The Poem is Writing Me (revisit)

There was a time, not long ago, when this seeking poet would listen with turned ears ready to hear, with fixed eyes ready to see, and with open hands ready to feel. I was content to listen, trust, and touch the living and dying world, beyond myself. A willing poet wanting to absorb, compose, and share so much.

A poet’s path stumbled upon fourteen months ago, has offered surprises, laughs, growth, and at times, sorrow. A pristine path that is revealing my soul. While walking this path, guided by the sun, I felt a swoosh, a lift, and a spin. I was stretched, pulled, and twisted. The world observed and recorded, that once existed outside of myself – was instantly contained within. A new world was born dissolving invisible borders and my protective skin.

The rush of mysterious wind tore from my tight grip, my writer’s notebook and pen. The pair did descend with a tumble and twirl. Space expanding between me and the tools that have helped me to see, hear, and feel. Spiraling, my pen did fracture then split. I saw dark droplets scatter into a thousand directions. Some did splatter on loose papers ripped from their tattered seam. Others did fly into the atmosphere, dancing with dirt and salt from the sea. Others did disappear into clouds, to someday emerge as inky waterless rain that will fill the imprints from my footprints, where, just above my final impression, an unwritten word still hangs. There it lingers – never finished, never heard.

I am no longer a poet writing a poem; the poem is writing me.

Gone is my reflection on the water’s surface. Flowing and formless, I quench the globe and the skies above. I cannot be contained. I am the last splash in a river’s drying bed.

Gone are my barefoot walks on the dew-covered grass. I have slipped out of sight. I mix and mingle with springtails and earthworms. Quietly, we break down and support life.

Gone is the distance between me and the light blue flame. I dance and entice, but I can no longer be intimately held. I am eternal. My intensity can ravage everything or soothe a lonely traveler’s chill.

Gone is the pen within my reach. I now see an outstretched wing that lifts, shifts, then shimmers when it catches a glistening ray.

I am no longer a poet writing a poem; the poem is writing me.

So much has happened in my(inspired)life since I first published this piece, on January 9th, 2021, and yet the passing of time has further grounded me in the striking truth of this poem’s spirit and message.

This post, on the last day of August 2024, concludes my five-year anniversary month. I’ve had a meaningful time revisiting poems and pieces written over the last five years and reflecting on my creative journey, which includes dance and photography, since beginning my blog in 2019. Creative endeavors that will continue to enrich my life, made more so by the act of sharing. Feels a new chapter is starting for me and while I have some idea of what that might look like, similar to writing long stories, discovery and joy are found in the unfolding of events.

Thank you for joining me – I am grateful for everyone who has shared time and kindness with me over the last five years in this creative space. People come and go in this ever-revolving (disposable) world we live in, and I often wonder about people who show up, share some light, then disappear. I wish them well and to those who keep walking their own creative path, alongside this poet, you are treasures in my life. Warm regards. Michele

Exciting book news: I’ve added audio books to my two novellas (Honeysuckle Heat and Her Coastal Cottage) and Being a Woman chapbooks (Overcoming / Becoming / Forthcoming). I would rather the voice have been my own, especially for the poems, however, I am happy to make this option available to readers sooner than later.

Audio of this longer piece available on the first post publication, “The Poem is Writing Me (w/audio)” ~ January 9th, 2021

my photos: Sonoran blue sky with small pink, orange, and golden clouds, scattered during sunrise / my sunrise shadow (June ’24)

© 2024 MyInspiredLife

Honeysuckle Heat ~ Release (w/video)

The rhythm of his sturdy steps along the pier provided a steady beat to the sporadic sounds of the night. Stepping into the evening gave him an escape from the four walls that had contained him and his laptop all day, but not from the heat. He could not distinguish between the water lapping beneath him and the sounds in his head, throbbing. Reaching the end of the pier brought him more frustration. He wanted to keep walking to the most southerly point in Florida, to walk away from thoughts of her. The edge of the pier paused his stepping, which stopped his body from falling into the dark water, but not his mind, drowning in the muddy deep. Resigned to his limitations and the somber pulses of the evening, he sat down…

from Honeysuckle Heat, Chapter One

Although my KDP bookshelf and a click to Amazon confirms that my second novella, Honeysuckle Heat, went “live” this morning, I can barely believe it. Feels a bit surreal because bringing this project to fruition has taken a substantial amount of my time and attention since this year began. Like nurturing a child to independence, this story and these dynamic characters are now ready to fly free, away from me. A marvelous creative process that I shall never tire of, whatever the project. Thank you for stopping by. If interested, clicking on the cover or title will take you to book preview and purchase. Warm regards. Michele

Of course, I must include Georgia on My Mind by Ray Charles (official video)

featured photo by Nature Nomad / Novella cover by Sammi Lee

Some of you might recognize my coral dress (in video) from a previous post – a dress I bought to wear to celebrate my first publication, Being a Woman Poetry Collection, four years and three days ago – a celebration that never happened because of Covid restrictions. Releasing my second novella felt a fitting occasion and cause for celebration.

© 2024 MyInspiredLife

Tumbling Tumbleweed

“No man is as wise as Mother Earth. She has witnessed every human day, every human struggle, every human pain, and every human joy. For maladies of both body and spirit, the wise ones of old pointed man to the hills. For man too is of the dust and Mother Earth stands ready to nurture and heal her children.”
― Anasazi Foundation, The Seven Paths: Changing One’s Way of Walking in the World

Although 99.2% of the blood that flows through me is Northwestern European, I feel deeply connected to the Indigenous spirits that move through me on this land where I drew my first breath. Spirits I sensed as a child playing in the pristine desert and building tumbleweed forts with my neighborhood friends, in fields now covered in concrete. Spirits that spoke to me along the bank of a lapping river through a Mourning Dove’s gentle coo, heard after rising early from a tent. Barely school age, I will never forget that moment and the sweet sound that echoed through our cove.

The sage spirits are becoming more noticeable as my walk toward long silver locks continues. With great reverence, I listen. Their lessons and messages are most profound when I spend time in the quiet desert and there are times, like this morning, when they surround me during my ride through a city, waking.

The Sonoran Desert may not have the abundant structures of antiquity found in other locations; however, there are sacred sites preserved across the region that were once the intact dwellings of the first people to call this land home. Travelers and seekers will also find mighty saguaro cacti that can exceed 150 years old, with their own stories to tell.

A snippet from my morning Native American playlist: A Cricket’s Love by Kelvin Mockingbird, Look How the Stars Shine for You by Randy Wood, Tears for Kientepoos by Mary Youngblood

Thanks for stopping by. Wishing you a pleasant week. Michele

my desert photos: Four Peaks Mountain Range and the peaceful desert during sunset / dancing poet selfie

© 2024 MyInspiredLife

Let’s Do Diga Diga Doo (take 2)

Grow old together?
This suggestion I’d rather
not consider.
Grow old alone;
I could manage just fine.
In love I’d rather
grow young.
Having completed
decades of “to dos” –
to playful mischief let’s say “I do.”

Let’s put on our Sunday best
for no reason at all
and through the park, take a stroll,
leaving others underdressed
and stunned by our youthful glow.

Let’s walk casually and obliviously
toward the nearest puddle
(a large one in front of a crowd will do).
“Surprised” by its sudden appearance,
you’ll pick me up and pretend to carry me across.
Oh, what a gentleman, they will say.
They spoke too soon because in the water
is where you’ll drop me.
Oh, what an ass, their tone will turn.
Not fazed by my soaked stockings,
with my heeled right foot, toward you, water I will thrust.
Stand and take it like a man, you must,
before jumping in.
Let our wet and wild frenzy begin.
Soaked are we, splashing and laughing.
Oh, aren’t they cute, they will bashfully agree.

Dress clothes soaked by a dirty puddle –
no bother.
A puddle on the floor is where our Sunday best
will quickly get tossed.
Let’s spend Sunday undressed,
under the covers,
splashing and laughing.

Thank you for stopping by! To celebrate my five-year blog August anniversary, I’ve been revisiting a few poems from the past. Great fun it has been! This is a sweet and saucy one that was first published on October 8, 2022, along with the song and title inspiration, “Diga Diga Doo” by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. I’ve changed the photos from the original post but left the poem untouched. More passion is coming with Honeysuckle Heat; my second novella that will be released on Tuesday, August 27th. [image error] Wishing you a wonderful weekend. Maybe this post will inspire some puddle splashing and hip swinging. Warm regards. Michele

P.S. Responding to compassionate comments regarding a friend’s recent passing, and the flood of emotions that followed, has affirmed my appreciation for this supportive and creative community that I am grateful to be part of. Thank you.

featured photo of couple thru rain-covered window taken by PalSand / my puddle photo taken during recent ride after a monsoon storm / cover of Honeysuckle Heat designed by artist Sammi Lee

© 2024 MyInspiredLife

I’d rather be fishing

I probably would have enjoyed fishing more as a kid, if it looked like this…

Thank you for indulging me in some needed comic relief. My reward after pushing through some heavy emotions, to complete my novella, following a friend’s farewell yesterday. I did it. I finished the final touches. Paradoxically I am both grieving for her and not wanting to quit because of her. No surprise, given her determined nature. A strong spirit I will never forget. A highly accomplished woman who never got around to publishing her own stories; I know she is celebrating this writing milestone with me. With the publication details now complete, my second novella, Honeysuckle Heat, will be released on Tuesday, August 27th. More to come next week. For now, I just need to laugh and breathe. Don’t we all. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read my last post – a tribute to her legacy and her poetic contributions in this space. I feel your support and I am grateful. Kind regards. Michele

photos by Everett Collection

© 2024 MyInspiredLife