Trust the Process and Know the Voice by Alan Anderson

 

The Project

I began a book project near and dear to my heart almost two years ago. A project dedicated to the theme of grandparent grief through the genre of poetry for the most part. My original title for the poetry was, “Plant Them A Garden,” but I saw the need to change this. Through my interaction with grandparents the title became apparent. I call the book idea, “Hidden Poetic Voices: A Reflective Work of Grief, Faith, and Poetry.”

 

This labour of love has taken me into dark places and places of joy as I write the poems. There are poems written to draw out the horror and life changing sadness grandparents experience. I try to balance the horror with glimpses of hope.

 

To date I have over one hundred poems in progress. There is a process I use as I bring my poetry together. The poems all depend on the stories of grandparents who grieve. Most of the stories I hear or read focus on the death of a grandchild and how this grief impacts the lives of grandparents.

 

 

The Process

Please allow me to explain an idea of my process for writing my poetry. This process is like how I make soup as the cooler months come upon us. I often make a broth from a cooked turkey or chicken carcass. Bring the water to a boil and remove the carcass bones. Fresh as possible vegetables, as well as leftover turkey or chicken meat are added to the broth. Salt is added to the mix to taste. I never serve the soup on the day I make it. The soup is cooked on a low heat overnight. The next day the soup is tested for taste. Once I am satisfied the ingredients are ready to party the soup is enjoyed.

 

The illustration of how to make soup serves well as I write poetry. Each poem is a result of hearing stories of grandparents who grieve. Once a story is explained I take time to process the person’s grief experience. The story is the stock of the poetry. I begin to write a poem to capture the essence of the grief story. The words, thoughts, emotions, of the stories, are the ingredients of the poems. In time I will know when the book, the soup, is ready to serve.

 

 

The Voice

The most common opinion I hear from grieving grandparents is, “we don’t have a voice.” This need for a voice is my motivation for this project.

 

Grandparent voices are often hushed by the grief experience of their adult children. This is often a result of the grandparent’s attempt to be, “strong,” for their children. They believe their grief comes second to the grief of everyone else. When grandparents speak about their grief, they use few words. Their few words are often poetic and find their way into hearts and ears ready to listen.

 

In a culture known to deny or evade death and grief we must be gentle as well as real with our words. Every poem sent into the world through, “Hidden Poetic Voices,” is meant to comfort and heal those who grieve.

 

Although I am two years into this project I am not frustrated, neither do I have any intention of laying it aside. I am not going to rush the process. My current part of the process takes time as I review and revise the poems. I love this part. Through this process my hope is the poems will speak with one, “voice.”

Alan lives in Deroche, B.C. with his wife, Terry, and their poodle, Charlie. He contributed stories to Good Grief People by Angel Hope Publishing, 2017; Story by Story: The Power of a Writer, Unstoppable Writers Publishing, 2018; Easter Stories & More by InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship, 2021. He is currently working on a book expressing the grief of grieving grandparents entitled, Hidden Poetic Voices: A Reflective Work of Grief, Faith, and Poetry. Alan periodically writes articles for FellowScript Magazine. He has written posts for our InScribe blog since 2015. Blog: https://scarredjoy.ca.

Sleep Apnea, Adaptive Creativity, and A Wounded Writer by Alan Anderson

 

Sleep Apnea

The first sound I hear every morning after I turn off my C-PAP machine is the breathing of my beautiful darling, my wife. We have hugged and snuggled for over forty-two years. Many of those years included my snores every night. Readers might ask, “So what? Sounds like this post is going to be a yawner.” Well, let me explain.

In May 2020, tests at a local sleep clinic concluded I have a condition called extreme obstructive sleep apnea. The diagnosis freed me from almost sleepless nights for over thirty years. Since my diagnosis, I realize how brutal this condition is on one’s body, mind, and heart. I realize I am wounded.

Until my diagnosis, I never heard of “obstructive sleep apnea.” I had heard of “sleep apnea,” but not the “extreme obstructive” type. My Respiratory Therapist at the sleep clinic has educated me on the damage obstructive sleep apnea can cause. This condition is harsh, but the education I have received about it makes sense now regarding what I have suffered with for decades.

Adaptive Creativity

There are consequences because of sleep apnea. My biggest adaptation, at least for now, is to accept I have memory and concentration challenges. These challenges are common for people with obstructive sleep apnea. Believe me, this is not fun, but one can adjust and adapt life to these temporary challenges.

 

I, therefore, welcome adaptive creativity. I used to enjoy researching writing projects and working on them for days at a time. Now my concentration, at least for now, is good for about two hours in the morning and two in the afternoon. I need a break in between or else my mind sees too many “shiny things,” my mind wanders.

 

In my life as a writer, I have embraced adaptive creativity via poetry. I find poetry is easier to focus on. While concentration continues to be a struggle, I can write at least one poem draft per week. I turned to poetry in hopes not only to sharpen my writing skills but also aid in my concentration.

 

My major writing project this year is my book of poetry I call, Plant Them A Garden: A Reflective Work of Grief, Faith, and Poetry. I hope to have the book published this year. I am happy to say I am learning a lot about poetry as this project takes shape. I must persevere and increase my concentration at the same time to bring this project to fruition.

 

Extreme obstructive sleep apnea caused me to put my life on pause. I saw a need to step back from my writing and evaluate where I want to focus. I mean as a writer, not to write means not to breathe. Well, I love to write and I’m super in love with the ability to breathe.

 

My journey with extreme obstructive sleep apnea continues, but not as severe as it has been. I thank God I still have an ability to write. I also thank God for InScribe and writer friends. Thank you for a place even wounded writers know they are safe.

 

PS: No more snoring! 

 

Alan lives in Deroche, B.C. with his wife, Terry. He contributed stories to Good Grief People by Angel Hope Publishing, 2017 and Story by Story: The Power of a Writer, Unstoppable Writers Publishing, 2018. Alan has also written articles for FellowScript Magazine. Blog: https://scarredjoy.ca. Alan is the Provincial Rep. Liaison and BC Rep for InScribe.

 

https://scarredjoy.ca/

Charlie, the Birds, and Poetry by Alan Anderson

“So out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field and every bird of the air, and brought them to the man to see what he would call them; and whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name.”-- Genesis 2:19-20.


I can often demand a lot of myself. I’ve realized this through the years. As I become closer to being an almost old guy, I am also aware of my need to slow things down. I gave readers an idea of this in my January 2020 post. Remember?


2019 goes down in my life history as a drain on my emotions and health. I couldn’t concentrate well enough to write or read for long. I bemoaned perhaps my writing days had ended.


In an endeavour to slow my life down and focus again God drew my attention to creatures familiar to me. These creatures are Charlie and the birds. Charlie is the poodle my wife, and I brought into our family a few years ago. The birds are those I see every day outside our home. They come for the food I leave for them in the bird feeder. I don’t know all the various types that hang around, but they are all welcome.

Charlie is like my shadow. He always seems to be with me. He loves to go for walks on the dike with my wife and I. He sniffs the air and stops every so often to mark his territory. We know it isn’t all his territory but we don’t have the heart to tell him. He loves being with us and we love being with Charlie.


One day, first thing in the morning, I got up to let Charlie out to perform his morning ritual. When I opened the porch door to let him out, I noticed one of the bird feeders was empty. The air was cool and frost lay on the grass. I walked the few steps to the feeder and replenished the bird food.


An hour or two later, I went out to the porch again. I noticed the birds enjoying their brunch. The menu comprised a variety of birdseed and a suet block. 


Charlie and the birds are great therapists. My mind relaxed after several times sitting on the porch with Charlie as we watched the birds. I could sense and almost feel words in my mind. The words ached to get on to a page. I once again had the driven desire to write.


My rejuvenated desire to write came in the form of poetry. This also came as a surprise to me. I never thought I would write poetry. After writing a few poems and revising them, I discovered I love to write poetry. For me, writing poems is also therapeutic. Each word is meaningful as I bring a new poem to life. I can almost feel my brain relaxing as I write. The poems are like a healing tonic for my mind. 

Charlie and I watch the birds from our porch almost everyday now. Most times when we arrive home from our walk we say hello to the birds. I must admit, however, as soon as they see us they fly away. When that happens Charlie and I stand on the porch with the door closed. A minute or two later the birds return and resume their meal.


God has given us creatures like Charlie and birds to relax and rejuvenate us. My friends take the time to love and cherish these beautiful creatures. Our hearts and minds will be all the better for it. Our sense of wonder will soar and our creativity will be free again.

https://scarredjoy.ca/